Ruth Stodghill, Nederland.  I am not a hippie.

By this, I mean I am not, by nature, a person who is well-balanced, existential, one with nature. I am a product of modern civilization. I work too many long hours at too many jobs. I serve my family pre-packaged meals. I drink diet cola by the gallon. I watch reality television. I worry about crow’s feet and saggy thighs and wonder if I should get botox.
Sometimes, I get lost in the hustle and bustle. I need to simplify. Get back in touch with the bigger picture.

I recently went on a road trip with my running buddies to compete in a race in Nederland, Colorado. I literally got lost and wandered for miles in unfamiliar territory - yet in the end, I found happiness in the chaos, and I discovered that I was exactly where I was supposed to be all along.

From the moment we arrived in Nederland, I knew I was someplace special. 

My buddies and I rented a house in which to crash the night before the big race - and calling the abode ‘unique’ doesn’t do it justice. We fell in love with the quirkiness of the place - there was a hobbit hole in the front yard. A 70’s sound system in the kitchen. A hand-painted mural in the bedroom. Everything about the place was fantastic - and spoke to the creativity and independent spirit of the town.

The morning of the race, we walked the few blocks from our crash pad to the race’s starting line downtown. As we prepared for the race to begin, I found myself in the company of an eclectic group of runners - locals dressed up in costumes for the occasion, girls like myself attired in the most cute and modern of running duds, and then, the hard-core male trail runners. You can always tell how hard-core a male trail runner is by the length of his beard. The more he looks like Grizzly Adams, the more fleet-footed he will be on the trail - he will fly across rocks and sprint down mountainsides as his glowing mane of hair and tendrils of beard cascade around him. It is a glory to behold.

And as we gathered to start the race, I found myself surrounded by a veritable pack of Grizzlies. It was magnificent.

The beginning of the race course took us through Nederland for a mile or so before shooting us out along the local highway for about five miles. As I jaunted along with my fellow runners, I was surprised; the high elevation of Nederland didn’t seem to phase me - maybe there’s extra oxygen from the multitudes of pine and aspen trees. Whatever the cause, I found myself able to easily lope ahead of most of the pack. All the stress and craziness of my life back home just seemed to melt away as I jogged along.

Then we hit the trails. And let me tell you one thing I quickly learned - the trails in Nederland are NO JOKE. I tip my hat to all the fine folks who regularly run, bike, and hike the trails in Nederland - you are rock stars.

Literally. Rocks, rocks, and more rocks fill your trails. As I slowed to a mere crawl to avoid tripping and falling and breaking my face - one of my trail running specialties - I was quickly passed by the entire herd of Grizzly Adamses, and pretty much everyone else.

I found myself plodding along slowly, alone now on the trails, without any other runners in sight. What’s a girl to do when she’s in the middle of a forest, slowly meandering her solitary way along the mountainside? I say, there’s really only one option. Dance!

I cranked up my tunes and shimmied, be-bopped, and boogied my way through the forests. The views from the meadows and clearings were spectacular - sweeping vistas of pine trees reaching up to touch the blue sky, interspersed with aspens sporting various shades of emerald green, pale yellow, and glorious gold. I found myself incredibly, completely, and totally happy. This was exactly what my soul needed. I was home.

Too bad I was so lost in utter joy that I forgot to pay attention to the trail markings.

I realized, when I hit Mile 13, that I was repeating a section of trail I had already run. And I was nowhere near Nederland.

Uh oh. I was lost.

A huge thank you to the incredibly helpful race workers who found me wandering in confusion, and who gave me a lift back to the correct section of the course. Without you, I may have been lost for days - and running in the forest would have been much less enjoyable if I ran out of energy gels to fuel my Nederland Dance Party for One.

As I finally crossed the finish line (15 miles and three hours after the event started), I realized - while I may have lost my way for a while in the forests of Nederland, I’d also found myself for a while. My true self. A happy self.
I should endeavor to get lost more often.

(Originally published in the September 27, 2018, print edition of The Mountain-Ear.)