A month in the life: Type 2 fun

Arapahoe National Forest, Colorado //

Last night’s smoke made its way out of the valley overnight.  When I step outside, just after sunrise, I’m greeted by clearer skies than I’ve seen in a month.  Seeing bright white clouds against a vibrant blue sky feels much more like the Colorado that I’m used to.

I take a seat in my camp chair and gaze downriver just in time to see two giant bull moose appear from around the bend in the water.  In a matter of seconds, they gracefully disappear into the tall vegetation that lines the water’s edge. Had I not been looking their direction, I’d never have known there were two massive animals wandering around fifty yards from our camp.  That’s my one dislike of camping alongside rivers.  Not only does the vegetation give animals a lot of room to hide, the noise created by the river makes it difficult to hear if an animal is nearby.  When I set out for a long walk from this site, I clap or talk loudly through the tunnel of shrubbery that leads to the road.  Just in case.

When we return from a hike at midday, it’s time to do something I really don’t want to do.  A cold plunge.  For the last couple of years, we’ve done a cold plunge in one river or another every week of the summer.  We came to really enjoy the rush as well as the feeling of accomplishment that results from doing a hard thing.  So much so that I dedicated an entire article to the topic here on the blog last year.  

This summer feels different though.  I have absolutely no interest in willingly submersing myself in an icy cold river.  I’m well aware of the benefits and still, I want nothing to do with it.  All summer Mark and I have been dealing with a strange and unexpected wave of feeling off, unsettled, and discontent.  To ease the discomfort, we’ve been self-soothing via our chosen vices.  For me, that comes by way of food and social media.  The problem with vices though is that the hit of instant gratification only lasts momentarily, and the icky feelings I’m trying to soothe return.  There’s no quick fix for matters of the mind. 

Mark is waist-deep in the river when I begrudgingly step in.  It’s August, the river is low, and the air temperature is warm.  I had high hopes that the water wouldn’t be as cold as I remember.  Nope.  We must be too close to the source for it feels like ice.  As I’m inching my way in, my mind is screaming no, no, no, we’re doing anything we can to feel better, not worse!  And yet my deep inner wisdom, the quieter albeit wiser voice inside, is saying you know this is exactly what you need.  Mark cheers me, ever so slowly, into the water.  I won’t lie,  I whined and complained but eventually dropped all the way in.  At first, my breath quickened as my mind wrestled with my desire to get out.  But I remained long enough to steady and slow my breath, at which point a wave of calm came over me.  Oh, yes, I remember now.  What a rush.  This feels amazing.

Afterwards, we both felt giddy.  And while we laid on our towels beneath the sun and let our body temperature return to normal, we felt a tremendous sense of peace and relaxation.  Unlike bad habits that only deliver a quick hit, the sensation we earned from doing something difficult remained with us the rest of the day.  Doing a hard thing, what some refer to as Type 2 Fun, resulted in one of the best days we’ve had all summer.

Easy choices, hard life.
Hard choices, easy life.

Today was a reminder of the truth in those words.