Solitude.

An evening walk by my house.

I've been spending a lot of time alone lately. It's probably not a bad thing. The Vail Valley is a stunningly beautiful place... but it's also very difficult to meet good people here. For starters, this valley is full of transient, seasonal workers. Many of the young people are only here for a few short months, so you end up saying goodbye to friends you hardly had a chance to get to know. This place is also a mecca for people who never want to grow up. Ya know... the selfish, unreliable, "Peter Pan" types. I've met lots of those. Then there are the "friends" who you THINK have your back, but who end up throwing you under the bus or pushing you to the wayside when your friendship becomes inconvenient.

And I'm sure these kinds of people exist everywhere. It just seems like there's a much higher percentage of them here. So when I hit my year anniversary of living in this valley (July 1st), I decided that if I was going to stay here, I better get comfortable being alone. I definitely have a few close friends who I always enjoy seeing. But getting drunk with the "bros" at the bars has pretty much lost its appeal. I started doing a lot of yoga. I run frequently. I also take long walks on the path by my house. It curves around a little lake and there are always dogs running through the sand and bounding into the water. When I'm feeling low about the people I've met here, that's the walk I take. I just look up at the mountains and breathe in that clean air and remember why I'm here.

I'm not here to party. I'm not here to shred the gnar. I'm not here to win races or train with Olympians. And I'm clearly not here for the people. I'm here because the view out my window still takes my breath away. And because something still stirs deep within me when I feel the wind on my face while watching the sun dip below the peaks. So if alone is what I have to be for now, that's what I'll be. For now.