Walker

I am back in Denver and I love Walker, my nephew. I just spent seven days with the little booger and he is the cutest almost-three-month-old baby I know. Hands down, I am NOT a baby person. I was never a babysitter either. Maybe it has something to do with being the youngest, who knows. My "bio" clock hasn't really ticked either. Okay, I admit, it ticked-tocked for a brief moment when I was 28 over a holiday dinner with tons of wine, but it passed shortly thereafter. Should I be worried? I mean we certainly want kids, but I just haven't felt the feeling that so many women talk about -- the obsession. I mean I still get the spins when I walk into a baby store to buy outfits for Walker. My husband is not pushy (so patient), and we both agree that it's nice being selfish and able to travel at the drop of the hat.

For now, today, I am content being an aunt. It's actually one of my favorite things being una tia.

However, Barb says that the fact that I was so infatuated with Walker is the beginning of the "tick." Hmm...we'll see.

I did feel extremely natural with Walker -- not scared or anxious like usual. It's probably due to the fact that it's my sister's kid and I feel comfortable around her. Plus she's not a crazy, neurotic, new mom. She's very trusting and generous of allowing Walker to be "social." When you walk into a room, she's the type of mom who puts Walker into your arms like it or not. I think that's awesome. Not too overprotective and certainly not too neglectful. Just perfect in my opinion.

Walker doesn't coo and cah; he grunts and snorts, which makes me melt. He's also a tank and sweats a lot, which makes me love him and squeeze him more. He spits up and is an all-day squirmy worm, which is endearing. He's got a muffin top and cheeks to match, which Barb taught me how to bite ever so delicately. We think he's got our family's eyes, which grow really, really big when you lean in to kiss him on the nose and then when you pull away fast -- he smiles with this huge, photogenic grin. He pooped on my running shorts when I rocked him and peed on me when I bathed him, which I cleaned up with indifference. He pulled my hair with a twinkle in his eye and farted and burped like an old man, which both were hysterical. He never wanted to be put down, which I loved because it gave me an awesome arm workout. I couldn't of had a better time and I say that with total and complete seriousness. Walker's just awesome. Am I biased? Of course. Am I ready to be a mom? Is anyone?

Peace & luvs to everyone.

"Just Smile and Wave"

Met Janya at 6 a.m. for a run. The short, four miles felt like fourteen. The route we took today was a basic rectangle of street with a soundscape of morning traffic. Nice huh? Not our favorite route, but we have to switch it up periodically. I've found that when you're running, walking, cycling, or otherwise not driving, drivers can be funny. Sometimes mean, but mostly funny. By funny, I mean the people who drive by and crane their necks to watch us run. Sometimes, when I am driving, I catch myself doing this too, craning to see the runner, walker, cyclist, or the person just standing there waiting at the bus stop. I have no idea why I do this. There's a slim chance I would actually know the person. It's probably some human nature thing -- curiosity built within. Although I admit to craning, one thing I can honestly say that I don't do and have never done is honk, hoot, or scream obscenities at complete strangers as I whiz by them. Now that is just completely ridiculous, in my opinion of course.

Which reminds me of when Rich and I were running around Lake Harriman last year (Yes, this is the actual name of the Lake -- Lake "Harry Man") and we heard someone yell "faggots!" as a car filled with teenagers careened past us.

"Did that car just yell 'faggots' at us?" I asked as I glanced out of the corner of my eye, dumbfounded at Rich. He responded with a matter-of-fact "yep," which made me double over with laughter. Obviously, I don't find slurs funny, but in this situation the intense bravado that overtakes some individuals once they get behind a wheel made me laugh. Then I thought how my reaction was probably the complete opposite effect the carload wanted to have over us, so I laughed harder and waved.

Rich taught me the wave. He's an avid cyclist and a very good one to boot. He could fill a book with personal experiences of driver misbehaviors from when he's been on the road. "When they try and piss you off, just smile and wave like you know 'em," he told me once. Okay, I get it. It's sort of like the "kill them with kindness" theory -- and I like it. Plus, they are in a car and you are the extreme underdog. So, now I just smile, wave, and mutter "asshole" under my breath.

Also, great to hear from SLP and Jeremy. Thanks for the comments! Off to San Francisco... .

Acclimate, Recharge, Center -- and Travel?

Spending two weeks on the east coast makes running three miles back in Colorado feel like I have asthma. I guess it's par for the course as running at sea level was a breeze. Get it? Breeze at sea level? Okay, cheesy, I know.

My time on Groton Long Point (known as "The Point" to locals and "GLP" to my family) was nothing short of pleasurable. Luxuriously, I indulged in the freshest of fresh seafood all around New London from restaurants, farms, and markets such as Fisherman's, The Seahorse, and Olio's in Groton to Skipper's Dock in Stonington to Captain Daniel Packer Inne, Mystic Market, Whittle's Farm, and Grossman's Fish Market in Mystic. Luckily, I had running, kayaking, biking, tennis, and golf to help balance out all of the goodness (calories) that we savored (devoured). Oh, and I also bought a boogie board while I was there, but didn't have the chance to use it as I impulsively grabbed it on my second-to-last day -- a possible subconscious denial of my soon-to-be departure back to Colorado.

Sadly, it was time to get back, however.

Although short and painful, my run today helped me answer a question that I often ponder: Why do I choose to still live here in Colorado aside from the awesome summers, the mountains, great athletic opportunities, genuine friends, and one of the best stroke hospitals around (Swedish Medical Center)? Being a person who grew up in water, it's odd that at the age of 30, I am still happily here. But, what's here for me other than me? I live smack dab in the middle of the country with no family. Honestly, there are no real ties for us (my hubs and I) living here other than our mortgage and friends. But those ties aren't a constant; they are changeable. Dearly appreciated, but changeable. Right?

When we first moved here it was to satisfy our craving for "real" snow and snowsports. Coming from DC, we said "three years tops." Then we would continue moving west -- back to the water. It's now been almost seven years.

I know why we came, but have always questioned why we continue to stay. Until today.

Even though I was practically gasping for air during my run, these thoughts (feelings?) floated around in my head: Colorado is my balance, Colorado is my center, Colorado is my base, Colorado is my challenge. I have been traveling a lot, and thus far whenever I have returned to Colorado, I fall back into a routine. A routine that makes me feel grounded. A routine that pushes me. A routine that seems to make sense and that seems healthy and that seems fun. Out here in the middle of the country -- it's a routine that somehow manages to get me back to me. Maybe the word "routine" just scares me a little. Maybe I've accepted it finally.

Then I get a phone call from my sister and gladly find myself ready to travel all over again. I leave a week from tomorrow. This time, I head west where my little-more-than-two-month-old nephew is waiting to get hugs and squeezes (unbeknownst to him). Watch out you lil', red "hot tomato" here comes Tia Sara -- acclimated, recharged, and centered. Mwah!