Sunday, July 17, 2016

Passion

The other night I flew.

 
My view from the Peavine.

At work (aka the "real job" for the TOWN of Chino Valley (not city) as Rec Coordinator) I needed a pet project.  Being a hiker, I picked expanding our section of the Peavine Trail to the trail in Prescott.  Ours is only 5.5 miles long, and about 3 miles lay between our section and Prescott's.

Wide Open Spaces...the glorious West.

Earlier in the week I explored all of Chino's trail (from my town F150 and in the company of other dedicated employees tasked with this endeavor) but Prescott's disconnected sections took serious searching.

 
 This derelict bridge has me worried.

Early indications are we have a fabulous, doable project that benefits both the town and the city.  As a hiker, I looked forward to the completion...even though I wasn't fond of the Prescott section of the Peavine.

It's pretty but boring.

Nothing is worse than a flat trail in my opinion, and while I wanted to see the connection, I wasn't eager to "hike" it.  As a former railroad bed, it just wasn't exciting.  That is, until now.

I rode my bike on it.

I love my bike.  Always have-it gave me freedom from the age of five when I first figured out how to balance that old yellow Schwinn.  Over the years there were times my bike played a major role in my life-all three of my babies spent hours on the back.  Moving to AZ I discovered mountain biking the summer of 2013...only to have that end with a stress fracture in my foot.  2014 was the year of survival...I only managed a few rides as my career disintegrated.  2015 I had a broken hand....and the one ride I took did not go well.

 
Mackinac Island.  My hand had just broke for the third time but I didn't know it yet.

I honestly thought my bike needed more repair than just pumping the tires.  Turns out that's all it needed, and Peavine exploration seemed like a wonderful idea for the exact reason I hate hiking it:  it's flat.

<insert last blog's rhapsodic tale of riding my bike seriously for the first time in three years❤️>
Passion.  Unbridled passion.  

I've left my bike in my Dodge Durango, anxious to take it out again.  To fly as I did ignited a feeling I have so missed:  the joy and determination mixed into one glorious emotion called passion.

I had forgotten how it felt...the death of a marriage was in part due to the lack of any passion in my life.  Lately when I sense it-I quickly latch on...I need more passion, not less.

As my role with Far From Folsom is now over since they opened, and Ride Prescott moves to the forefront, I am looking for the sparks to ignite the energy and drive I need to make things work.

 
As you can see, Folsom was packed at the Grand Opening.  Mission completed successfully.

Bike riding gave me that spark.  Another thing that sparks?  Surprisingly, the Phoenix Symphony.  At work my Pandora station is an eclectic full orchestra mix - it helps me focus.  At Symphony Hall, however?  Passion.  My heart soars.

I look forward to having something I am passionate about at work.  I look forward to more music, and exploring on bike (as well as hike.) 

Passion.  I'm loving the surprise it had for me as I discover it once more.


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