I recently had occasion to wake up at 5 a.m. and drive 3.5 hours to Denver for a 9 a.m. meeting. This occasion was Monday.
The waking occurred in Steamboat Springs. The driving took place along US-40 and I-70, skirting mountains and trudging through foggy valleys. The meeting happened in the Post building. The driver in question drank a lot of coffee with a side of espresso that day. That day was Monday.
This year — maybe this entire existence, which is how it seems these fine days — has been one of quick turnaround trips. There was our 14-hour vacation to Salt Lake City. Then the 12-hour stay in Silverton, Colo. And now this approximate 17-hour visit to Steamboat Springs. This visit was Monday.
These ridiculous endeavors are almost always in conjunction with work. (This example being related to getting Dan to the starting line of another cycling tour; he was covering the race this time, not riding in it.) We tend to shoehorn adventure in around other obligations and responsibilities. Perhaps that’s just being an adult, yeah? Perhaps it’s just some particular habit (ahem, psychosis) for us. Whatever the case, the alarm rang much too early that morning. And yes, that morning was Monday.
It’s hard to be too perturbed by this shoehorn lifestyle when these are the vistas with which you paint your adventures. And it’s better than not going right? When Dan first suggested I stay the night with him in Steamboat (the original plan being for me to drive him up to the mountains Sunday morning and abandon him there like the good wife that I am), I was hesitant to go for it. The original plan had me getting home at a reasonable hour Sunday evening, with time to lounge and then get to bed at a respectable time before hitting the work week sans zombie eyes. That plan sounded nice, comfortable. Easy. But then I caught myself.
I didn’t want to be the kind of person who was bothered by a touch of spontaneity. So what if I didn’t have an overnight bag, a contact lens case, face wash, mascara? So what if I’m not a morning person? So what if it sounded a little insane to start the week with a sunrise road trip back to the city? There may very well come a time when it doesn’t make sense to uproot the “original plan,” in whatever form it may come in. But that time isn’t now.
So as we get to another weekend, don’t hesitate to embrace the spontaneous, my dears. If not now, then when, right?