February the new May?

I’m not sure what’s happening. I look at a calendar and it says it February but then I look and walk outside and it feels like May. 65 degrees, sunny, birds chirping—pure bliss if you ask me! So what do I decide to do on a 65 degree February morning? My friend and I thought it would be appropriate to go up the mountain and find snow!!

Just a 20-minute drive from town and the temperature dropped a bit but it was still gloriously (is that a word?) warm, sunny and snow covered! We only had an hour and half so the plan was to hike/run around, but our plans were bosched when we realized we didn’t have a parking permit and everywhere on the mountain you need one so that your car doesn’t get towed or get a ridiculously huge ticket. But we didn’t give up!

Instead of hanging up at Mount A, we cruised on over to the base of Pilot Rock and just hiked up and up for a solid 30 minutes, didn’t really make it to any destination, but we were both over dressed and sweaty by the time we decided to soak in the view and head back down to town. We both kept shouting “THIS IS WHY WE LIVE HERE”

Moutains

Be jealous

Not having got my cardio fix in at altitude I threw on some shorts, (yes, shorts and a t-shirt) and headed out for a run/core workout. The core workout consisted of me laying in a grassy field doing a few planks, a few crunches, but more so slowing down and basking in the sun, soaking up the free vitamin D mother nature was handing out yesterday.

My legs felt heavy and the hill never seemed to stop, but being outside and just enjoying the day was exactly what I needed on my day off from work. Being able to slow down and just be is something I’ve struggled with and I think living in the mountains is helping me learn to take a deep breath and appreciate what I have right now.

So, whether you’re in a town that’s covered in snow, a sunny beach, or some weird mix like my winter has been, figure out how to breathe. Live and love each moment that you have right now. It’s hard, but that deep breath is worth it, I promise.

Ass Crack Hour Before Dawn

I currently started waking up at 3:55am twice a week. Why the hell would you do that? You ask? Well, the YMCA in my town opens at 5am and I hold the key to turn on the lights and treadmills at 4:30am. It’s cold and foggy and nothing but 7-11 is open that early, or late, depending on how you look at it.  In the past if I was awake at 3:55am it’s because I had yet to go to bed, now I’m responsible for the opening shift twice a week! Coffee makes me less of a zombie, people watching keeps me going until noon every Monday and Wednesday.

I have been living in the Pacific North West for just over two months now. When I arrived I was in awe at all of the beautiful people here. Young, thirty-ish couples and families buying organic food at the Co-op, older people hiking further than me in the park, kids biking and walking to school with out complaint. This part of the country is just healthier than the east coast and the mid west.

Working at the Y has opened my eyes to the true effect of the PSW or at least the attitude of the people here. First I’ll describe my job after I turn on the lights and the machines at the ungodly hour of 4:30. I then unlock the doors at 5 and let the masses in! And by masses I mean the 60+ year olds waiting outside in the dark. The majority of people waiting for my turn of the key are retired men and women that are used to being up at the ass crack hour BEFORE dawn. These people greet me with my name, a smile and the weather report and then go on their way through the door to swim, lift and elipt the morning away before the sun peaks his head above the mountains.

I’m forced to think about my family back in the eastern part of the country while I’m meeting all these people out west. I see elderly men and women the same age or older than my grandparents looking young and sprightly! Up early, being social and active. I compare and contrast the 50 some things to my parents who are both active, but live further east. My mother in the Midwest with stresses of Yacht Club meetings, Christmas parties and her marketing job; working out and being outside become low man on the totem pole when life gets thrown at her. My Dad who is a recent Colorado resident has stresses of a new job, moving, meeting people; he’s bombarded all day and going for a hike isn’t high up on priorities.

As the morning carries on the age group varies to young high school boys, to 40 some business people, to octogenarians that resemble people my parent’s age! There’s a woman that comes every time I work and when she scans her membership card I have to double check every time, her age claims she’s 94—she looks about 62, a 62 year old that looks good!

I scare myself some times. As I’m sitting at the desk trying to keep my eyes open and brain active beautiful men and women come in and I play a game with myself. The game is ‘guess their age!’ Most of time I find myself oddly attracted to the men that look 30 but are actually 45 year olds that just look so youthful, (don’t worry Mother, I’m not going there.)

I can only attribute this amazing beauty and youthful look to the air, the mountains and the amazingly active lifestyle people in the PNW maintain all their lives. I think people here in Oregon make vitamin D intake precedence. Sunshine is not a luxury but a necessity in their daily lives.

Seeing these people and constantly being surprised by their age is inspiring me to explore, constantly push myself physically, mentally and hope that when I’m 34 I’ll look 24, when I’m 64 I’ll look 56, when I’m 86 I’ll look 72! We can only hope, right?