Island Time

Awake to see this morning's spectacular Boulder sunrise, my body proved to me for the third day in a row that it is still on island time.
Gladly accompanying my grandparents on their 50th wedding anniversary in the form of a Caribbean-cruising sailboat, seven days were spent basking (read: getting charred) in the sun, consuming altogether way too many alcoholic beverages, swimming, eating and trying really hard to just relax. I did, however, come to the realization that the term "island time" applies to much more than what your watch says; it's a way of life.
There are a few things that especially flourish on island time, but above all the winner seems to be romance. The Caribbean caters to everyone's varying definitions of romance, and traveling through, it was almost comical to see the broad spectrum realized in so many forms.
On a very superficial level my younger sister, Liz, pointed out that on several of the islands, the male-female ratio was dramatically on her side (she has a thing for darker men with accents) to the tune of 2 to 1. I figured that the generous gentlemen leading our excursions just liked the rare blonde, or wanted a decent tip. Liz soaked up the attention and thought nothing more of it.
The next instance, which was perhaps more lust than love (but who am I to judge?) came when I was bobbing up and down in the waves off of Martinique (?) and happened to glance toward shore just in time to see one of the older crew members from our ship furiously, shamelessly and quite publicly locking lips with someone I assumed was from the island. As I debated whether this was a romantic meeting or an island booty-call, a wave knocked some sense into me and I concluded that there may not be too much difference.
Of course, 'hook-ups,' as my father so aptly coined them, are all very much a part of the cruising lifestyle for guests on the ship, as well. It is the wonderful mix of heat and booze that results in less clothing and more ambition. The sad aspect of these relationships is they seem to be short-lived, and after the seven days, ways are parted and people end up in their respective parts of the globe with only a memory and perhaps a new Facebook friend.
The true romance was found in the 50-and-over crowd; those that came together in celebration of many years spent in one another's company, through sickness and in health, through richer or poorer -- the romance 22-year-old women crave. I found myself sighing more than usual and wishing upon most of the stars in the perfectly black Caribbean ceiling for some of that to come my way.
The most heart-wrenchingly romantic story came from a German-Argentinian couple. The German (man) fell in love with the Argentinian woman, even though she was the secretary that handed him his pink slip. He left on a three week vacation, only to return a week early just to see her. When he arrived at her house, her mother informed him that her daughter had flown to the U.S. to marry someone else. In a spectacular show of persistence, the German acquired a visa, booked the only seat left on a U.S.-bound plane - first class, which he was no business to be flying - and made it to the U.S. in time. Needless to say, he somehow convinced her to marry him, and they have been side-by-side ever since.
And then there are my grandparents - celebrating, and rightly so, 50 years of thick and thin. Never have I heard my grandfather speak so lovingly to my grandmother, thanking her for everything that she put up with. Never have I realized how much those two have been through together - near-death experiences, children, constant moving, a war, jobs, illnesses, and on the list goes. Listening to those stories and seeing my grandparents recognize that neither of them could have made it to this point without the other, made me realize how important marriage is on levels I before did not know existed. Romance is more than making out in a tropical paradise: it's having a best friend and a life partner with which to share everyday.

First Amendment: Part I "Separation of Church and State"

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

A war is being waged through a very unlikely medium: license plates.
The Americans United for Separation of Church and State have recently sued the state of South Carolina over its potentially unconstitutional DMV-issued plates with "I Believe" accompanied by a cross. They are suing on behalf of a rabbi, two Christian pastors and a Hindu organization. As of right now, the federal courts have ruled on a temporary injunction to hault the distribution of the plates.
Now here is an interesting situation: religious organizations suing to quiet another religious group's freedom of speech. Can you say, "Shooting yourself in the foot?"
This case can be argued two ways:
1) The AUSCS can argue that the S.C. legislature is supporting a religious establishment by passing a law that creates a Christian-specific plate. On these grounds, yes, the S.C. legislature's Act No. 253 or the "I Believe" Act, is wrong. However....
2) It has been established that vanity plates fall under freedom of speech, and as such, the religious organizations suing the state are harming their own freedoms if this nonsense is passed. First, why would two Christian pastors have a problem with "I believe" being inscribed on a license plate? The followers of these Christian leaders need to seriously re-assess their ideals and those of their pastors. As for the non-Christian leaders: Why would they not push for their own religious-specific license plates in the hopes of having equal opportunity to express their ideals instead of squashing those of others. Freedom of speech means just that; freedom. It does not mean, "His speech hurts my feelings because I believe differently so it shouldn't be allowed!"
The only way that the AUSCS has a leg on which to stand is if the S.C. Legislature decides not to pass or ban license plates that say, "Allah is king." Only at this point is there a freedom of speech violation. Until then, the religious groups should put an add in their establishments' bulletins asking for lisence plate ideas.

Related links:

Ind. appeals court backs 'In God We Trust' license plates
7th Circuit: Ill. not required to issue 'Choose Life' plates
9th Circuit: Ariz. wrong to deny 'Choose Life' plates

Weather incoming

What is the only thing that means more runners than cyclists on Boulder's streets? Snow and low enough temperatures to create icy roads.
Sure enough, the 70-plus degree weather has finally left Colorado, and with it goes the ability to climb endlessly outdoors, run for hours on end and, perhaps my favorite pastime, turn your face toward the sun, smile and absorb.
With the sudden change comes the temptation to do unhealthy things such as drink whiskey, remain inactive for long periods of time, eat chocolate etc. Essentially everything I hate to love comes into fruition.
However, the cooler temps also supply time for several things I enjoy thoroughly. For one, drinking hot tea. A tip for tea drinkers: boiling hot water scalds green tea making it bitter. For sweeter green tea, let your boiling water cool slightly before pouring it on the tea bag.
Second, and most important, reading. For your curiosity, and my record, I am including my top "must reads" for the winter. The list may get longer at some point, so feel free to check back if you are ever in the need for a good read.

1. Galetea 2.2 by Richard Powers
2. Nathaniel Hawthorne's selected short stories
3. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
4. The Light of Other Days by Arthur C. Clarke
5. The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan
6. Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs
7. A Rat's Tale by Tor Seidler
8. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson

Hopefully there is enough of a variety for all tastes in this list.
For further reading, here's a little bit of disappointing, anti-First Amendment news... sorry folks, but it's true -- and in California, no less: http://www.firstamendmentcenter.org/news.aspx?id=20919

Battle of the ages

There are no men in Boulder; they are all boys with no intention of even attempting manhood ... ever. Half of this folly can be excused by realizing that Boulder is a city for dreamers and chasing dreams. The 50+ -year-old locals have just made dream-chasing their occupation, and that is to be commended; at least they are probably happy.
The differences between boys and men are subjective to a certain extent, and by no means do I like boys less than men - I just don't want to date them. Cruel? Perhaps. But a girl has to stick to some standards. To better illustrate boy v. man, let's explore what a typical profile for each might look like ...

Name: Billy the Kid
Age: On my fake id or my real one?
Hometown: I roam
Occupation: Philosophical thinking and physical labor
Career aspirations: Climbing V14 / 5.14
Favorite activities: Climbing, partying, riding my bike
Favorite food: a rush bowl or a burrito, depending on time of day
Where you would take a girl on a date: The crag
Car: Specialized Mt. Bike
Scent: Old Spice and/or Curve
Hair length: Long
Reason for moving to Boulder: Is that even a question?

Name: Prince Charming
Age: 28
Hometown: Midwest
Occupation: What I got my master's degree in
Career aspirations: See 'occupation'
Favorite activities: Reading, trad climbing, cycling, traveling, remodeling my home
Favorite food: Sushi,
Where you would take a girl on a date: My house. I'd make a romantic dinner.
Car: Audi
Scent: Manly musk
Hair length: Short, with a closely shaved beard
Reason for moving to Boulder: My job brought me here, and Eldo is an added bonus.

Of course, there are huge exceptions to either of these profiles, and also note that I am scratching my climbing itch, so my dearest friends are those who share attributes in the "boy" category and I am in no position to truly judge, only observe.

Running and the definition of life

Around the next corner it is going to get better
the top of this hill is five steps away
Today feels better than yesterday
The suffering is all in my head
My lungs are burning
Awesome song, forgot the pain due to jamming out
Watch the rocks, don't twist the ankles
Make sure to look up, can't miss it all
Finally.
... Wow, what a beautiful world.

On multiple runs in the past month, when running has been a healing factor for both body and soul, thoughts have tended toward the comparison of running to life. As one chooses a trail, so can one choose a path in life.
Of course, the corresponding trail-to-path is not always perfect, but the similarities provide a refreshing perspective on decision making processes. Plus, I just have a lot of time to think while I'm running...

The steep trail run: For this run, the choice has been made to suffer physically for the oneness with nature, the crisp air, the changing scenery, getting to the top and the satisfaction suffering brings. This has been the run of choice for me as of late, and I find that it also corresponds with the path I have chosen for my life. Giving up the 'straight-and-narrow' path that leads to a solid career, more education, a serious significant other and the security of knowing every day could very well be the same as the one before has reaped benefits unimaginable, but also is potentially as fleeting as this beautiful November weather. The sacrifices are there, as shopping and entertainment have to be re-assessed, along with several other 'necessities,' but in the end, it is insignificant when compared to the pure elation of the travel.
The view has been spectacular and ever-changing. What I can see from the top, with a clear mind and a healthy body can not be compared to anything else that I might experience with greater security. The feeling of being able to claw my way to the peak, for the purpose of the trip, as opposed to simply wanting to get to the top, makes the summit a far better accomplishment. The idea of stopping to smell the flowers is half of the beauty of this trail, the other half is not being able to smell the flowers because of breathing so hard, inhaling with any other purpose than to breathe seems insignificant. Playing hard is the name of the game; but so is stopping when it is necessary to appreciate, meditate and celebrate.
Of course, there will be a time when my muscles say, "No more," or money takes precedence over time, and all that is left is pavement-pounding and running to get a run in for the day. The scenery doesn't matter, and all that does is raising your heartbeat for the doctor-recommended 30 minutes a day. There is no celebrating at the top, because there is rarely a 'top.' The only thing good about the run is getting back home. Is this the way an activity should be? Never. Running, and its life equivalent, should be the thing to which one looks forward at the conclusion of the day's duties. There is no need for a stopwatch, unless simply for curiosity's sake, because there is nowhere else to be but the present.
There is no soul in conquering concrete, but sometimes the soul gets left at the trail's summit, and awaits the day when it is reclaimed by the huffing hippie that left it there. I'm still searching for my summit, and loving every minute of it.

Time or money

One of the best perspectives on life as of late, 'One can have either time or money' comes at an interesting time for anyone recently graduated. Rarely do both co-exist, so a choice must be made and often the decision is not an easy one.
With time comes pleasure; internally. As nothing worth anything can be purchased with cash, time should always be the choice. Time allows for everything good: relaxation, recreation, laughing, talking, writing, exploring, sex (the good kind). Nature is the best example of time, as it requires little to no money, but gives everything to mentally cure the human psyche. It is always there, one must simply decide to reach out and touch it, as with time.
However, because of the complications of living, the eating, sleeping logistical version, money is perceived to be a major factor. The physical needs in life require it, and therefore the higher pleasures are often ignored or put aside temporarily in order to sustain. There is no easy way around the need for money, although some have found ways to place money on the back burner. But it seems to be just that: temporary. The gain resulting from time spent away from money is often tainted by the lingering fear of when money will run out, and takes time with it.
So what is one to do in this predicament? Lives are often spent in reverse because of the unspoken force that guides decisions about time and money. When young, money escapes easily and does not replenish without effort. Energy expended goes toward money and not time and at the peak of physical ability, when time should be spent satisfying higher pleasures, time is wasted on superficial, physical needs. When money finally abounds, the body is decrepit from the race for money and the true pleasures can not all be enjoyed. Time is left to its lonesome and what is left but regret?
Where the sacrifices are to be made is obviously not easy to determine, as the factors being dealt with are logical on one side and emotional on the other. Emotions and logic are nearly impossible to compare.
The choice is yours, choose wisely.

Colorado girl

Occasionally it is necessary to get away from the bustle of downtown Boulder and the people in it, and sweat out the qualms and quandaries of the previous night with the help of mother nature. After finding a place to park a few blocks down the street from Chataqua park, I started to realize this was not quite the getting away that I had envisioned. Nevertheless, I slipped on my earphones, cranked the iPod to drown out my heavy breathing and headed up the least-packed trail at a slightly slower gait than normal.
Earlier the same morning I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth, both figuratively and literally. The micro brew consumed last night had certainly left its mark. Slapping for the cell phone only heeded more vomitous realizations: So many missed calls and even more drunk dials resulted in a decision to stop drinking, again. Lifestyle changes must be made as my climbing and psyche were degrading by the weekend. This combined with much confusion relating to overzealous men, nice men, past men and just men in general led to the sudden urge to get outside for a long trail run.
The run was medicating, but not quite as planned. About 20 minutes into the jog after realizing some wrong turns had led me to bight off more than I could chew, I stopped to ‘check out some boulders’ (read: catch my breath for longer than I deserved). Hippity-hopping down the path like a sparrow, with legs to fit, came the typical Boulder runner with a regal, panting best friend at his heals. I give the nicely-aging gentleman a smile of desperation, wiping off the drips of sweat still running down my forehead. To my surprise he yelles, “Get yourself up there!”
I really don’t know how to respond so I pant, “Is it worth it?”
“Of course. You can do it. You’re a Colorado girl now.” And he was off.
Wait, a Colorado girl? Have I not been a Colorado girl my entire life? What did he mean by this? My immediate conclusion was that I must look fat and out of shape, but after further convincing gave the nice man, and myself, the benefit of the doubt and thought maybe he could have meant a number of different things by that; I’m just not sure what.
Regardless, his statement changed the mood of the run in a positive manner. The iPod got turned off, the run got more intense and Colorado was enjoyed more, honestly. At the peak, I scrambled to a good sitting spot with a view of the other side of Boulder and my perspective on life was immediately changed.
With head finally cleared, the hike down was a little sunnier and the air significantly fresher. Upon arriving at my car I realized that sometimes it takes an out-of-place comment by a very in-place stranger to change a bad perspective and clear the clouds of one’s mind. I still don’t know what he meant by his comment, and it will perturb me for quite awhile, undoubtedly. But along with the confusion comes the life lesson, which isn’t all bad.