I’ve been vocal about my disdain for yoga. It’s not that I don’t see the physical and mental benefits of doing it (I actually think it would help Jamie’s back problems tremendously). It’s just T-E-D-I-O-U-S.
Of course, there are a few exceptions where yoga is tolerable. 1) It is in a beautiful mountain setting after a day of stand-up paddleboarding or 2) On the beach in Coronado, CA.
I know I said a few but I can’t think of a third example.
At the last minute, I decided to go to bootcamp at 6:30 a.m. When I arrived, the lights were off and I almost turned around thinking it was canceled. Then, I peered in, heard Enya music wafting, saw women doing the warrior pose and I raced outta there faster than you can say Namaste.
That’s Sanskrit for extreme distaste for yoga.
It was going to be 90 degrees so working out in town was not an option. I headed to the hills but last week, I hit the wall with hiking. I desperately crave variety and I’ve subsequently explored pretty much every trail on the Front Range within 30 minutes from Denver countless times. But then I remembered a trail I’ve wanted to explore for over a year at Pence Park, which is the terminus to Bear Creek, one of my favorite network of trails.
So, here’s my hike summary:
Went to bootcamp and forgot it was yoga.
Walked out.
Hiked new trail.
It looked like this.
Where’s the trail?
It eventually ran out at an elderly man’s property.
He waved.
I called back to him for directions.
He was hard of hearing.
He gave me directions.
They were wrong.
After wandering on backcountry gravel road, he drove to find me.
Told me a different route and he’d take me there.
Hesitatingly got in the car.
Were old, deaf men with heart conditions axe murders?
Did not die.
Hiked on fake trail that was last maintained when this man was in his 20s.
Eventually looped back.
Discovered fall paradise.
Saw biker on the other side of the road.
Realized the real trail I should have taken was over there.
Drove over to old man’s house to thank him.
He did not answer the door so left a note.
As I was leaving, he spotted me from his window.
I shouted “thank you!”
He couldn’t hear me so responded, “talk to my wife!”
She came to the window so I repeated my message.
“I can’t hear you!”
She was deaf, too.
But at least I wasn’t one of the ungrateful 9 lepers.
Drove home.
Walked in the door.
Called to Jamie, “I got in the car with a strange man.”
Like usual, he didn’t flinch.
All 100% better than yoga.
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Addendum: One week later, I finally hiked the real Pence Park so I have now done the entirety of the 8-mile Bear Creek Trail.
It was worth it.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 