What do you think of when you hear the term “rollerblading”? What comes to mind for me is neon clothes, tight short spandex and wrap-around sunglasses. However, this imagery has changed since I recently took up the seemingly archaic hobby of rollerblading. 

Lately (and inadvertently) I’ve been embracing my youth; I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life the past week. Granted, this is partially in part due to my “baby” sister graduating from college – a clear indication to the family that “we aren’t so young anymore.” Yet I’ve had quite the time, space and setting to reflect: Steamboat. For those who know me, Steamboat may seem like that redundant factor often heard in a sentence like: “Seriously, you should come hang out in Steamboat.” Wait, is it a boat? Is it on the Missisppi? For those who know their Colorado geography or me, more personally, they know it’s the untouched paradise in the Rockies – Steamboat Springs, Colorado. My family has been coming here since I was 12….13 years ago.

This most recently hit me as I decided to take up an old hobby and rollerblade the river path earlier this week, much like I did throughout my teenage years here. So I decided to dust off my rollerblades, and for the first time, acknowledge that claiming to have bigger feet that I actually do was uncomfortable. The last time I strapped those babies on was circa 1997 – when it was seemingly cool to have big feet. Yesterday, I realized it was much cooler to rock a size 8 – a size that actually fit me well. As I cruised down the river path solo yesterday, enjoying the warm Colorado sun (and natural sounds sans iPod shuffle), I gained a new appreciation for life. Truly. Life passed before my very eyes, and it was much more pleasant than the ignorant guys carrying a white-water raft mocking me with a “go rollerblade girl” as I passed them on the path. No, it was much more than that. 

Fourteen years of Steamboat passed before me. Flashes of when my sister and I ditched some two suckers while rollerblading  with the classic line of: we don’t have a telephone…to reminiscence of losing the car key in the shallow Yampa River  and thus my family electing me – in a bikini – to solicit a ride from a complete stranger (man) back to the top of the river. Point being, this place is magical for me. Years of memories, stories, bear sightings, recollective music, sun burns, hair dyes, etc…it’s all part of my childhood.

I can’t imagine what it would be like without a place like Steamboat.  A place where furs are mocked, old school is embraced, and everybody knows your name. A great place to embrace life, family and friends. From the Observatory to the Sanctuary, life couldn’t be better.