drinking the cool aid

I think today I am going to spend some time researching what happens to your brain above 5,000 feet. Or rather, at what elevation do you have to be at in order for euphoria to naturally set in? Maybe it's lower? Higher? Do people in Denver have a better quality of life than I do here at sea level simply because they are a little elevation-drugged?

I want some more of that drug. I have a love affair with the mountains, but not in the rain forest, black bear, snow-camping kind of way. I love the high-desert, thin-foliage, low-brush kind of mountains. Deep reddish brown soil, jutting rocks worn by ancient rivers. I am romanced by aspen trees, especially in the summer, riverside as the small round leaves twirl in the breeze. I like standing on a ridge and seeing a meadow laid out in front of me bursting with wildflowers. Again, I think this is the "elevation drug" speaking...I think.

I have not spent enough time taking the drug. Every time I get a taste of it, I am genuinely exasperated that I don't spend more of my life taking it all in. However, I am like the rest of us who don't live in Denver. Spending entire days in a desk chair, working to create the opportunity to get back up/out there. Last weekend, I was lucky enough to be skiing with my sixth grade dot, basking in the sun, happy and drugged. She drank the cool aid too and I nearly shed a tear when she said, on more than one occasion, "I'm so happy!" Those of us immersed in life with a tween know that this is a big exclamation. Her dad and I have separated after fifteen years together and the mountain drug was necessary and so good, for both of us.

This love affair and drug addiction aside, I am not one of those people who is especially adept or equipped to spend all of this time outdoors. I am a mediocre skier, would rather wear my tank top and tevas than real hiking boots, and like mountain biking on lovely, wide trails (aka - low impact/injury). However, I have always followed my mother's lead: get out there no matter what. She is NOT a skier, hiker or biker but when I was young, she did it all..for me. She was even worse than I was at all of it. One time on the slopes, she was bowled over at the bottom of the bunny hill by an out of control skier - - - who happened to have been my father. That was it. Ski bus was next (and a divorce as well, but that's another blog entry). We rode road bikes nearly every Sunday and my mother wore rubber bands around the bottom of her jeans so they wouldn't get stuck in the chains. (Yes, I said "road biking" and "jeans" in the same sentence.) With the purchase of our first four-wheel drive car, she could finally say goodbye to the dusty hikes, but still hello to the fields of wildflowers, and our car picnics on the top of windy ridges are still embedded in my brain. I like to imagine that she was chanting, "get the kid the cool aid!" to motivate her more indoor-inclined self to get out there. Largely due to her efforts, I have improved on her skill level in all of those areas, and in turn, my dot will be even more adept and skilled than me. This is as it should be.

Now that I am alone and cannot rely on her father to jump on the bike, I am trying to remember my mother's lesson. I will have to remind myself what it feels like to be outdoors, to be on the bike, to have that head-clearing clarity, that moment of endorphin or fresh-air-fueled bliss and make sure my dot has plenty of it in her life. I want that kid to drink the cool aid. She deserves it.