No phones allowed. Clark Griswold had delivered his Golden Rule at the beginning of Friday morning's session with Peter (yes, the man of mindfulness again). And by Clark Griswold, I mean our Coach Lee Bodimeade who has an uncanny ability of reciting lines verbatim from Christmas Vacation. It was only appropriate that we were headed to the very place where Cousin Eddie pulled up to Clark's front yard: Breckenridge, CO.
Naturally, being the tech-crazed generation we are, the cell phone ban freaked most of us out. All we had were a few spare minutes for a tech binge before we departed the Springs for our family trip up to the mountains. And by family I mean that crazy, chaotic, ultra-awesome, ultra-driven, yet not always in agreement but willing to go with it and find a way, group of women that goes by last name Team first name USA.
So, I will just come out and admit it, I binged and sent a frantic facebook message to my other crazy, chaotic fam: will be out of service for the weekend, don't worry, still alive. If anything happens call Clark.
The phone prohibition was no less daunting than that prohibition years ago that gave us the HBO hit Boardwalk Empire; but unlike Nucky, we abided by the law, turned our phones off, and packed the vans.
Four weighed down vehicles filled with singing, sleeping, and animal-spotting passengers caravanned the winds and turns of 24W en route to freedom. We rolled past the changing colors of fall - the vibrant yellows morphing to soft oranges that blurred to bold reds, all of which sat on a sea of Rocky Mountain forest green.
Our mouths were agape at the breathtaking scenery. In the air was that special crisp excitement that only the chill of fall can give. That weather we call Hockey weather on the east coast. That weather we all feared we forfeited when we moved to the sunny side of the country - San Diego. We yearned for the crunch of leaves beneath our feet, the warmth of a morning cup of coffee, and the chirping of squirrels in the trees.
We got all we yearned for, and much, much more. The weekend was nothing short of amazing. The breathtaking scenery enhanced by the beauty of an experience with an extraordinary group of people. Not a single hockey stick was packed. Not a single word of the sport that had brought us together was spoken. And yet we were in great harmony.
We laughed. At Kat Sharkey's Wii Boxing Fits, Gonzo's annoying inability to fall asleep at night, Kayla's startling resemblance to the Wiki-wiki pumpkin, the Kayla-Gonz circus body, and Doc's adorable need for a glass of milk with every dessert.
We cooked. Breakfast feasts, competitive dinners, and outrageous fire-roasted s'mores.
We carved. Inspiring pumpkins, laughable pumpkins, frightening pumpkins and mindful pumpkins.
We learned. How to cook green beans, and a mean tomato soup. How to play crazy eights, penuckle and aussie rules football.
Ultimately, we sat. Drinking coffee, reading books, playing cards. We sat around the fire, around the table, in the kayak. We sat together, talking, in the morning, day, and night.
We enjoyed. Each others company. In the silence of the starry night, and the chaos of a crowded kitchen.
We felt. Happy. Inspired. Comforted. Excited. Connected.
More connected than we ever could feel through technology. We felt a real connection in nature with each other.
Unfortunately, when Sunday came, we were forced to leave our utopia and return to real life - technology dependance and all.
But we carried something special back with us. That connection that we made up there in the mountains. A bond that has made us stronger, closer, and more certain of ourselves, and our ability to thrive and enjoy, together.
I ought to send a message to my family - Back from weekend in mountains. More alive than ever before.
So, I will just come out and admit it, I binged and sent a frantic facebook message to my other crazy, chaotic fam: will be out of service for the weekend, don't worry, still alive. If anything happens call Clark.
The phone prohibition was no less daunting than that prohibition years ago that gave us the HBO hit Boardwalk Empire; but unlike Nucky, we abided by the law, turned our phones off, and packed the vans.
Our mouths were agape at the breathtaking scenery. In the air was that special crisp excitement that only the chill of fall can give. That weather we call Hockey weather on the east coast. That weather we all feared we forfeited when we moved to the sunny side of the country - San Diego. We yearned for the crunch of leaves beneath our feet, the warmth of a morning cup of coffee, and the chirping of squirrels in the trees.
We got all we yearned for, and much, much more. The weekend was nothing short of amazing. The breathtaking scenery enhanced by the beauty of an experience with an extraordinary group of people. Not a single hockey stick was packed. Not a single word of the sport that had brought us together was spoken. And yet we were in great harmony.
We cooked. Breakfast feasts, competitive dinners, and outrageous fire-roasted s'mores.
We carved. Inspiring pumpkins, laughable pumpkins, frightening pumpkins and mindful pumpkins.
We learned. How to cook green beans, and a mean tomato soup. How to play crazy eights, penuckle and aussie rules football.
Ultimately, we sat. Drinking coffee, reading books, playing cards. We sat around the fire, around the table, in the kayak. We sat together, talking, in the morning, day, and night.
We enjoyed. Each others company. In the silence of the starry night, and the chaos of a crowded kitchen.
We felt. Happy. Inspired. Comforted. Excited. Connected.
Unfortunately, when Sunday came, we were forced to leave our utopia and return to real life - technology dependance and all.
But we carried something special back with us. That connection that we made up there in the mountains. A bond that has made us stronger, closer, and more certain of ourselves, and our ability to thrive and enjoy, together.
I ought to send a message to my family - Back from weekend in mountains. More alive than ever before.
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