Apparently by age twenty-five most women should be married, own a house with a white-picket fence, be well on their way to the pursuit a perfect career, and in general, have life well understood.  In truth those are quite high if not impossible expectations to hold above any single person.  Did you know that the human brain is not fully developed until age 25?  If we assume this theory to be correct, then somehow society is expecting people to make all encompassing and committing life decisions by an age that God or evolution never intended.  Interesting…

On a personal note, I find that the best way to combat this pressure is through expecations or by redefining the role expectations can play in our lives.  It has been my experience that the best moments are those same moments associated with zero expecations.  The job you never thought you would be offered, but because you knew the right person or walked in at the right time were offered.  The cute guy you never thought would ask you out until that one day you ran into him at a coffee shop because you simply needed your skinny chai and the moment was right.  Or how about finding yourself more motivated and more alive then you ever thought possible simply because you pushed your body to the physical limits and finished that marathon?  Funny the role expecations play.  And how in reverse, when we enter a situation with loads of expecations, the only truth we walk away with is disappointment. 

Life works this same way.  While society may have expecations for us, especially women of this independent, empowering generation, we are under no obligation to fulfill those expecations.  Live life to its fullest.  Adventursize.  Smell the roses.  Fall in love.  Cry when your heart is broken, and live with no expectations. 

Traveling. The simple sound of the word evokes a series of emotions. From new experiences with possible new friends, to outdoor adventures, to quality margaritas on the beach, the common denominator is that traveling is an experience many of us crave. Yes, as adventurous women we cannot help but seek out the next possible escape.

This past weekend I had the unique experience of visiting an old college friend in a surrounding new to me. Seattle was my destination. Recently I had created a tick list of areas within the United States which I had yet to visit. Seattle was first, simply due to convenience. In general, the city is amazingly beautiful. Walking the streets of Fremont, I could feel the culture in every small coffee shop and every local eatery. Non-pretentious late twenty-somethings to early thirties hipsters who climbed on the weekends and lived the memory of Kurt Cobain through their celebration of good music. Yes, I liked Seattle and perhaps someday I will live among these people.

I share this story not because my experience is so unique and interesting, but simply because it is a good reminder of an all too common comfort zone to which we fall prey. Up until this weekend I assumed that Boulder, Colorado was the most amazing city in the world. After a few years of embracing the local culture, I soon came to accept everything offered by Boulder as the norm. Don’t get me wrong because I most certainly deem myself a Boulderite in many ways. I hold fitness in high regard, consider a strong cup of java from Vic’s a necessity in getting through the morning and am transient like so many of the other locals. However, a spontaneous weekend trip to the Northwest reminded me that my world was quite small. It is truly bizarre yet understandable how limited we can become in our surroundings. The truth is there is a great big world out there filled with many amazing people, experiences and opportunities. I suppose ignorance is bliss if we never choose to leave our bubble. But, if we somehow decide to open our eyes to the possibilities which surround us, we begin to see the world as something much larger and more real. Anything becomes possible.

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.

I’ll easily admit that the best part of my week is teaching a youth climbing class for six to eight year-olds.  Their constant energy and zest for life is refreshing to say the least.  Last week one of my favorite little boys invited me to his birthday party.  A few minutes later he angrily took back the invitation when I corrected him on tying his figure-eight knot. By the end of the class we were friends once again.

I share this story because lately my mind has been on expectations.  It feels like no matter whom I speak with or what situation I find myself in, the same conversation takes place.  What are you doing with your life?  Are you in a serious relationship?  Will you get married and have kids?  What are your goals and how will you achieve them?  And as I think about these questions, I find myself wondering how and when this confusion set in.  How does a young child live so vivaciously and with such optimism?  To be young and have my biggest worry be how many kids I can invite to my birthday party. When and how do we, as adults in this contemporary society, become defined by expectations?  When did loving life and people and brief moments stop being enough?  And who are these magical people who create these definitions of happiness and perfection?  Are they airbrushed models on the cover of magazines, or are they people who claim to have it all when really they got lost along the way?

My guess is that the most brilliant and real people in this world are the young children.  Some deem them innocent or ignorant.  Really what they demonstrate is a blissful truth.  I am by no means delusional in my thinking that we can all go back to a magical time, when we had no worries and no responsibilities.  As Freud would say, that is regression my friend and not the most healthy coping device.   What I am suggesting is that we rediscover and embrace that inner child.  Most of us that love the outdoors are trying to rekindle that relationship.  We climb rocks because it gives us that sense of exhilaration and freedom.  We run marathons because we are curious as to our physical limitations, even when we know better.  And we travel to exotic places because we crave the new experiences and people we will most certainly find there.  My guess is that every person has these desires within them.  My guess is also that these desires have been pushed aside and forgotten because we live in a society which values other things.  My challenge, on a personal and greater level, is to fight the urge to conform and to rediscover that innocence.  I am a bit saddened to think that it required me being in a concentrated environment with six year-olds to remind me who I once was.  We are intelligent and motivated people, and there is no reason that this challenge should escape any of us.  How is that for expectations?

Running has always been my sport of choice. I have come to rely heavily on the solitude and sense of peace it provides. In fact, there has never been a problem I encountered which I could not solve with a pair of good running shoes and an open path. A firm believer in independence and using exercise for purely selfish reasons, I never saw any reason to modify my habits. That is, of course, until I was introduced to the sport of climbing.

It was not long after a few sessions of climbing with various partners that I began to question to role of relationships in climbing. Sure I loved the graceful movements and spatial problem-solving presented by climbing, but I soon began to love the social and emotional elements as well. For instance, I once had a climbing partner early in my career who told me the he preferred “not to use verbal cues” when reaching the top of a climb. A novice to the sport, I thought this normal, perhaps. Once I began to test out different partners for the sport, both men and women, my ignorance was no longer bliss. Clearly this was a very intricate sport, which every individual approached with a different set of standards and expectations. In every climbing session (in or outside) I started demanding healthy communication. I wanted a partner who saw safety as the number one priority and who was bold enough to communicate all aspects of the climbing process. And yes, there have been many times in which my partner has called me out on my unsafe behavior. Whether s/he is trying to improve my ability or to simply keep me from physical danger, I valued this relationship.

Having been a climber for only a few years, I still have many questions as to how these relationships work. Sometimes I wonder if my partner wants to date me, or how people who work well together can become climbing partners despite vast differences in skill levels. Sometimes I even wonder why people climb. Perhaps it will take me years to have some of these questions answered. However, the one certainty I have is that this great big world in which we live is filled with many awesome athletic opportunities as well as many awesome people. While I will always have a soft spot in my heart for running alone, I am beginning to open myself to the possibilities of new sports and new relationships. After all, we were created as social beings with a thirst for companionship. What form that companionship takes is individual, but the certainty is that we feel more fulfilled when we find it.

I’ll admit I have a slight case of OCD. My closet is color coded, my cd collection alphabetized and I always have a clean bathroom. These are all positive things, correct? However, a person with OCD (and I use this diagnosis loosely) walks a very fine line between demonstrating socially approved and encouraged behaviors and behaviors resembling that an outcast. Living in Boulder, Colorado, compulsive exercise behaviors are the norm. In fact, most typical Boulderites define themselves by strict workout regimens, fantastic physiques and a demonstrative PhD in health and nutrition.

This is not a critique, because for many years I considered myself one of these individuals. About ten months ago, I became that outcast. The short version was that I was in a horrendous car accident which left me with a femur broken in five places. As a result, I was forced to change my perspective on everything in my life. Once an avid runner, climber and skier, I had to reintroduce myself to those sports as a novice. The activities which once dominated my life were suddenly glorified moments I would be lucky to experience again. A 45 minute run around Lumpy Ridge? How did my body every move like that? A day in Eldorado Canyon hiking and climbing? My leg ached just thinking about it. And to imagine that after every one of my workout sessions, I never felt fulfilled. I was always left wanting more…a better burn, more exhaustion or just five more minutes.

Now, I finish my spinning classes (and yes, I have developed a new addiction to cycling!), do a little weight lifting and take a deep breath and say thanks to the higher ups that I am even at the gym. I am lucky to be alive, lucky to move my body in any capacity and lucky to have a passion for the outdoors. I will once again run that loop at Lumpy and ski those wicked back bowls. It may not be for another year or two, but for now I will appreciate every moment I have been given.

While I would never wish a broken femur upon another individual, I challenge you to take a step back from your workout regimen. You deserve to find fulfillment in those activities and you deserve to treat your body well. If you find yourself going through the daily grind because you feel like you “need” to, then I encourage you to re-evaluate. After all, we are given one life and one body and this life is too short to strive for perfection in a society which will most likely never grant it.