Sometimes I find myself so caught up in the motions of life that I forget to be present. The mere thought of determining what gives meaning to my life is a constant source of confusion. Is happiness found in the validation granted by an unforgiving society? Is it in that perfect job we might never have or in that perfect relationship which doesn’t really exist? My guess is that even though we all assume to have the best intentions, we still fall prey to this idealist game. In my personal effort to gain some clarity, I have found a sense of peace in the soft lyrics of Jeff Tweedy, from Wilco: “Distance has a way of making love understandable.” He was right for a number of reasons.

My first experience with distance has taken place in light of my tendency to be a compulsive runner. I have always loved running. Few things grant me that same sense of freedom, exhilaration and physical exhaustion. Following a vicious car accident which left me with a broken femur, running and I had to part ways. Our split lasted 13 months and my heart was broken everyday. This last week I was given permission by the doctor to start running again. Before my broken femur, I ran everyday, at least five miles and never felt like it was enough. My body hurt, the joy I once felt from running was gone and I was at a serious risk of ruining that relationship forever. Now, I can only run two miles, at a slower pace and certainly not everyday. Despite these apparent drawbacks what I have gained is a new appreciation for running. Now it is a relationship I choose to have and I choose to care for.

My second experience with distance is a little more complex and perhaps a little more heartfelt because it deals with people, emotions and vulnerability. Have you ever noticed that the easiest people to push away are the ones closest to you? They are the ones who know us so well that they can both love and hate us all at once. This role can be filled by family, close friends or significant others, yet the experience looks and feels the same. There was once a time in my life when I assumed that the only way to feel loved and accepted was to please others. I somehow thought that if I could only be that nice person who was so easy to compromise then perhaps I would really feel love. What I have learned, for better or worse, is that the only thing I was compromising was myself. Slowly I have started to distance myself from those people who once seemed so critical to have in my life. And a funny thing has happened…the people I now surround myself with are not perfect, they are not people pleasers, but they are very good and real. When they argue with me it is because they care and when they hug me tightly it is because they are proud of something I said or did that is a reflection of the real me.

Without distance in my life, I would feel a void. Without distance, I would be popular, busy and chaotic. As I welcome distance as a friend, as an element which can add meaning and fulfillment, I am also welcoming happiness to my life. Perhaps you can do the same.

In a town as small as Creede, I wonder if the grocery store check out lady has to swear to shopper / cashier confidentiality? I’ve thought it quaint that each time I go in and buy cold medicine the bagger, stock boy, and cashier all ask how my son and I are feeling. In Boulder, they’d probably wonder if I was purchasing all that pseudophed for my Meth lab. But in Creede, they know we’ve been trading the cold and flu within our family for over a month now.

I wonder how anyone here purchases a home pregnancy test, condoms, or even Preperation H without the entire town whispering about it. And, while everyone here seems to know who I am and why I’m here, no one seems to have met Pam Houston. Case in point…

Amy, Logan, and I attended the Creede Early Learning Center fundraiser and silent auction on Saturday which was held in the Creede Community Center (found in the underground mining museum at the edge of town). At dinner, we met some girls who were actresses in the Creede theater. One of them, upon hearing that we were housesitting Pam Houston’s ranch, exclaimed, “Oh my God, is that the coolest bathroom or what?”

Pam’s bathroom is an amazing feat of tile work and imagination. A huge bay window next to a red clawfoot tub and pedastal sink make the room a work of art. The window frames the mountain view like a painting. The blue and white checkerboard tiles on the floor and the niche alcoves built into the walls show off the creativity of the designer. But the best…is the magic floor which lights up into a pattern of constellation stars at night beneath your feet.

Back to the dinner guest who says, “The floor glows in the dark!”

Someone else turns to her and says, “So, how do you know Pam?”

To which the girl responds, “Oh, I’ve never met her. I’ve just seen her bathroom.”

This brings up questions I don’t ask.

I’ll take photos of the bathroom for the next blog.

For now, I’m working and writing while stranded at the ranch. I bottomed out my Audi A4 in Bachelor Gulch and pierced the oil pan on Sunday. I thought “old pearl” was doing just great on these back roads, but I overestimated her low clearance. A guy named Hank is fixing her. I’ll catch a ride with a guy named Dex when she’s finished. Until then, I’ll live off my stash of groceries.

More from the ranch next week.

I duck out of the house trying to go undetected by the dogs. I love being on the trail with them, but sometimes I just need my alone time. I crave the feeling of placing my earphones in my ear, choosing a good playlist, adjusting the volume and pressing play. I head for the trail two blocks down the road. By the time I am half way through the first song, my run turns into an ass kicker hill climb, well ass kicker for me anyway. I hate it, but I love it too. It is an obstacle course for me.

Every rock, boulder, exposed tree root or gravel patch reminds me of a game I played with my mom when I was a little girl in the city. We called it “don’t step on the cracks”. There was no point to the game other than to make walking around more fun. This run has to be fun or I won’t do it. The chatter in my mind quiets and I am aware of my heavy breathing and how the music is almost keeping beat with my whole body. An odd affection for the stair-master condtion of the trail swells in me. My quads take on any tension that my shoulders might be holding. I look forward to the first drops of sweat to fall. I am amazed at how my body can do what I ask it to do. Each lunge upward sets me free.