Escape from Paradise

In the college search, those eons ago, I created an extensive list, looked at student body characteristics, spoke with swim coaches, and considered where I might fit in best. In that entire process, while I trained and competed at Maine colleges, I never once considered applying to a school in state. I HAD to get away. Maine was boring and small and had nothing to offer young people. Most people I knew were looking out of state and the ones that chose the nearby ones, while not looked poorly upon, were just completely incomprehensible to me. I had to leave Maine, and I did. I spent four years in Minnesota, a summer in the southeast, 7 months in Washington DC, and a year-and-a-half in Spain before returning to the grand state of Maine. 

And coming back to Maine was eye-opening. Only by being away did I learn that I came from a pretty incredible place. Mountains, ocean, the most amazing lakes, rivers, and hidden places I'd seen, even after all my exotic travels.

Sure, there aren't many people or much going on in Maine, but it felt more like home and more spectacular once I saw some other places.

Fast forward to leaving Maine again recently, something I knew I had to do for my career, but also that felt like being torn from a home I had only just rediscovered. As I pulled out of Carrabassett Valley, Maine, New England and then the East Coast, I had the panic that comes with someone not quite ready for a family realizing she wants to raise her hypothetical family there. 

So I'm here in Utah, a place many people I know have ended up or spent some time in because it is known to be another natural beauty with a lot of great things to offer. People I meet tell me it's awesome, that they came here twenty years ago and still love it, that there's just so much to do and so much beauty to be had, and they really believe it.

That brings me to asking them, "where are you from originally?" or "where were you before Park City?" And I'm sensing a trend: They're from Philadelphia, Iowa, New Jersey, MASSACHUSETTS. Wonderful places, sure, but they're not Maine. Their license plates say something like "Garden State" when we all know they are a toxic cleanup site or "Birthplace of Aviation" which is a nice way of saying a great person was born there, and we'll take ownership of his assistant brother, too. Exceptional things to strive for, but not Vacationland. 

Well goodness, if I were from "The Spirit of America" I might not feel such a sense of pride either. I'd head out in search of somewhere a little more exciting or just plain better, too. These are the people that love these relatively great places I've gone to, that really settle in and fall in love with a place. Maybe they're more positive generally, but they also don't have the quintessential rocky coast of Maine burned into their cognitive formation, or haven't grown used to hiking through what we refer to as "wilderness" truly without seeing other humans. There is a reason companies celebrating the natural world like L.L. Bean started in Maine and families like the Bush clan spend their summers there. The wilds of Maine formed such artistic and literary genius as regionalist author Sarah Orne Jewett and N.C. Wyeth. And there's a reason I awake in the night in a hot, sweaty panic thinking of the day I might have a Utah license or license plate.

For people who grew up in a true paradise, I wonder if we will ever find a place that compares. Sure, Maine lacks in social life, job opportunity, and general relations with the rest of the world, but it looks like this and makes good, down-to-earth, neat people. 

I miss it, and I'll try to make a new home here, but I do hope that my kids won't have to grow up between the yuppy world within these town lines and the Mormon world of this state. It's a strange dichotomy, let's leave it at that. 

Now that I've realized this, I'm going forward to explore and understand Utah, but Maine will always be the homeland tearing at my heart when I get a little down.

What If I Want It All Now?? (Priority Issues)

0. Little White Dog AKA Tuukka AKA Coosa AKA Love of My Life
1. Job I Have a Generally Positive Outlook On
2. Place to Live - also hope to be able to afford it and not fear being murdered or wanting to strangle roommates at any point. And hopefully 
3. Skis - the freer the better.
4. Boots - will pay, but they'd better keep me from ever being cold.
5. Opportunities for Free Food - community organizations, leftovers from events, volunteering, etc.
6. Marathon Training - Ogden, May 16, 2015, here I come! Ideally without musculo-skeletal problems.
7. Other Training - I do have access to two pretty lovely facilities, one being based around the entire concept of Excellence.
8. Weddings (Times 3) and Reunion - general attendance on all fronts, next summer is going to be a doozy. Hence the spring marathon, keeping interference from controlled, but likely excessive substances, minimal.
9. People I Enjoy Nearby - I don't want to call it "friends" or "good relationships", I'm too old to be so naïve, but I do like good company and having a bustling social life, and I like to be thought of when things are going down in my vicinity.
10. Exploration, Transportation, Smiles, Etc.

Still struggling to accomplish some of the early ones and while that doesn't necessarily mean unhappiness, it's definitely categorized as uncomfortable and unsettling.

Keeping the Wheels On

When I was in elementary school a good family friend - one I always looked to for the best of adventures, the most exciting family vacations, and as the only boy friend I was "cool enough" to have at the time - was in a bike accident in which he was going down a hill and the front wheel came loose, toppling him to a crushed helmet, a reconstructed face, and probably some other damages that Ten-year-old Me didn't really process. 

With my current car, my beloved 1997 green whip and actually any other car I've ever driven, I have an irrational fear of tire issues. I often circle my car before leaving the grocery store just to make sure everything looks alright. Flats or just losing the tire entirely. The first issue I ever had with a car, my first call to AAA, was due to my tire being torn off the side of the wheel when I was pulled out of a snowy ditch during a blizzard with the high school boyfriend, becoming a mean, burnt up flat tire as I drove to Sugarloaf. Upon arrival in Park City a few weeks ago, I had a sound grating and whining from what turned out to be a wheel bearing needing replacing. 

And then there is just life. The part of life where you're going along smoothly, feeling like you might just have the ducks in a line, that people respect and value you, you've attained a job or at least a life that you feel is at the very least acceptable, and things are alright. The greatest problem with such a situation is it very often is like any vehicle I've ever maneuvered. It can be old, new, shiny, or busted and there is always the potential for exactly that which I am experiencing currently.

The job is new and exciting, exactly the right direction for everything you've dreamed of. The new friends are inviting you to meet their friends, you're exploring a new area with them, and it seems your friends living 2,000 miles away just might even visit. There is free food at least once a week, making the measly salary seem OK.

And then you start to see and hear the wheels shaking. You wonder if you'll be able to manage the rent, food, gas, car expenses, health insurance, and afford any social activities. The job stress is following you to the gym, making you obsessive with checking your emails and wondering if you're doing enough to prove yourself as the new kid. Those new friends seem to have other friends and not be too interested in inviting you places and you wonder how long you will be the outsider in the new town. 

The wheels are to the point of falling off and every day feels like a challenge to bare-handedly hold them on, building calluses, strength and character that I just hope to have an opportunity to use in my new life. I wonder if I'll see the day when I have it all under control or if it will always just be a balance between all the tires, and I just have to hope I'll get more tires and better maintenance to spread the wear and tear out. Driving an 18-wheeler isn't what I had in mind at Career Day, but they don't seem too phased when their tires explode on the highway.

By the way, that's another irrational tire fear of mine - that my Honda's tire will shred and blow up OR that the trans-America truck I'm passing will burst a tire as I pass it on the interstate. I might be paranoid, but life has made me this way.

You Could Wear Leggings, You Know.

It harkens back to a profound line expressed in film, in which the protagonist remarks to the object of his desire, "I see you're drinking 1%. Is that because you think you're fat? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole if you wanted to."

I recently returned from a workout in my (also old) gym shorts, with the typical chill setting in as my sweat began to freeze. In order to comfortably make dinner, I threw on my favorite long athletic pants, pictured here:

My delayed background to this story: I am currently living in the house we rent for US team athletes to come to town and train using state-of-the-art facilities with their teammates and trainers. There was just one Olympian shacking up in our place at the time. 

He comes into the kitchen, "Nice track pants." to which I respond "Thanks! I've had them since the 7th grade! They can do this!" as I lift and stretch and pull them out to demonstrate the parachute nature of the old threads. He chips in "Why don't you grab some of the leggings our sponsors give us? You can wear leggings you know? Like, some people can't pull it off, but..."

AW THANKS! So, I grabbed a pair of the nice, tight, compression-style leggings. Know how many times I've worn them? Zero. Look at those Adidas stripes! And the stretch and give!

Can I Pay the Rent in Outerwear?

It amazes me how tough the housing market has been on a girl who's just off the boat from the East, after thinking for the 2,500 miles across the USA that September must be a great time to look for a home in a western ski town. Winter folk haven't arrived, summer people are set where they are and not looking to move before winter, probably landlords are desperate, right?!

WRONG. 

geeksandcleats.com

SO BLATANTLY AND UNCOMFORTABLY WRONG. Because you all know how averse I am to being wrong (Leo, year of the Dragon, born on a Friday... I could continue).

So what I'm saying is: It's not a great time to find a place to live. And not even in the "There Is Nothing for Rent" way, but more in the "I thought I could afford these X number of places and then I got my first paycheck and realized that come November health insurance will be taken out of this, too, and then how in the world will I afford anything in a 20-mile radius". So I expanded my horizons, prioritized the need for some extra cash for the big parties - errr... weddings - I have next summer, and have looked farther out of town. 

And most importantly, I've learned that while I will be eating whatever free food I can get, whenever I can get it, maybe, just maybe I can find a landlord in this yuppie town that will accept outerwear or granola bars as payment for rent. I know I would, if I owned a multi-million-dollar home.

Next project: buy my own house and charge rich northeastern kiddos exorbitant rent for my high-end, conveniently-located ski lodge home.