Chasing the Antelope

If you're down and confused

And you don't remember who you're talkin' to

Concentration slips away

Because your baby is so far away.

Well there's a rose in a fisted glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love

Love the one you're with.

Don't be angry, don't be sad

Don't sit cryin' over good things you've had

There's a girl right next to you

And she's just waiting for something you do

Well there's a rose in a fisted glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love

Honey, love they one you're with.

I've had that song in my head all day. It was a gorgeous day and I decided not to work. I've really been in the mood to run and bike lately. It always hits me this time of year. Spring wakes me up and gives me energy. Most of the trees now have buds and the daffodils are pushing up out of the dirt and life starts anew for everyone. I spent the whole day biking around Boulder doing not-so-urgent errands just because I could. I went by the Boulder Bookstore to browse the "Popular in Boulder" section. I dropped off a small bag of clothes at a charity. I returned a book to the library. I picked up lunch from Whole Foods and delivered it to Gerard at work. I stopped into REI for a new pair of sunglasses. I also bought a new bike helmet at University Bikes (the best bike shop in the world) and scored a couple of vintage cowboy shirts at Buffalo Exchange. I biked along the creek and through several parks. There were people with their dogs, people playing frisbee, people picnicing, people fly fishing, people doing yoga, and hot shirtless guys jogging or playing flag football. And all this I did on my bike, mostly on quiet bike paths that wind throughout our fair city. I stopped off late in the afternoon at The Cup to have an iced blackberry tea at a table on the sidewalk and people watch as the sun went down. Gerard and Cris eventually joined me and we just talked and laughed for a couple of hours, then caught The Hop home. I prepared a dinner of smoked pork chops and roasted winter squash, all from local organic farms, which we enjoyed with the windows open listening to the sound of Boulder Creek. Really it was a perfect day, one of those days that reminds me that life in Boulder is extraordinary. There are no "bad" parts of town, it's beautiful, clean, quiet yet alive, and everywhere is accessible in minutes via bike. It seems absurd to wish for more.

I finally started reading a book I bought years ago called Why We Run. It's a pseudo-scientific examination of why people like to run and the biological and archaeological evidence related to running. The author is a marathon runner and professor. In the very beginning he talks about "chasing the antelope." Basically, the condition where humans find it necessary to always be chasing something that's fleeter and faster and very difficult or impossible to catch. For a stone age hunter it was, quite literally, an antelope. For a modern recreational runner it may be a 100k race. For a poor inner-city kid it may be a college education. Maybe for you it's landing that person you have a crush on, taking that long dreamed of trip to Europe, or somehow acquiring a 100 acre dream ranch in Colorado complete with farm house, a big red barn, water rights and fantastic panoramic views of snow capped mountains. I'm just sayin'. The point is the "antelope" can be anything and is certainly different things to different people. And sometimes we catch the antelope after a long chase and feel great satisfaction. If it was particularly difficult to catch, taking a tremendous amount of work and/or time, we savor it all the more. But inevitably we start looking for another antelope. It isn't because we need another antelope per se, but because we need another chase. We need to feel the fear of possible failure combined with the exhilaration of possible victory, the anticipation of the unknown and those first sweet moments when we know we've done it. It's really the chase that keeps us going in life.

I'll be honest. I obsessed for years over moving to Colorado, specifically Boulder. Also factored in there was finding the "perfect" job, making a certain amount of money, and living my own idea of the "perfect" life. Years I obsessed over this with little progress that I could see at the time, though unknowingly I was closing in on my target. I stalked that antelope relentlessly, but never could get within throwing distance. Then, out of the blue, I found myself standing downwind with the antelope just yards away, completely unaware of my presence and perfectly aligned for the money shot. I took it, and at one fell swoop I found that dream job, got the big salary, and was whisked away to Boulder all expenses paid. It happened almost overnight. Of course I was ecstatic. I had just brought down a trophy I had stalked for the better part of my adult life. I was stunned. I couldn't have been happier. And then a most peculiar thing happened when the glow of victory began to fade. I asked myself one day, "Can I now die happy?" It's a stupid question anyway, but at that moment I realized that now that I had my long awaited trophy I didn't know what to do. Was this it? Was my life over? Was it time to sit back and enjoy the spoils for the rest of my life? Was there nothing more to look forward to but being a successful socialite (or a mountain man as I was pushing more for at the time)? All my life I had so looked forward to something big, and that something's head was now mounted on my wall. And strangely that made me sad. Sad because I imagined myself with no more purpose, nothing else to really strive for or look forward to or work toward. Was I to now spend the rest of my days pining for the feelings I had BEFORE I got my prize antelope? I was an extremely social person in Austin until the end when things started moving toward the transition. At that time I became extraordinarily focused on the kill and fell out of touch with most of my friends. I remained mostly asocial in Boulder, especially in the beginning, as I tried to make sense of it all and settle into this new reality. It was all so weird to me. Wonderful, but weird. Now it's beginning to make sense.

I'm happy to say I have since found (or remembered) several new and forgotten antelope and, sure enough, they have begun to restore me. Continuing my education and, most obviously to anyone who knows me or reads this blog, a ranch are two particularly fleet footed bucks I now have my sights on. Understand it isn't that I don't actually want these things and just made them up for something to do. I do very much want these things. But I now realize the importance and the role of the actual wanting. The pursuit that results is what actually makes me feel alive. Similarly, I also now have a better understanding of both the benefits and the pitfalls of extraordinarily single-minded pursuits. Laser focus can help you get the things you want, but it can also make you forget what you've already got. I wanted Boulder so bad I forgot my friends. I want a ranch so bad I've forgotten Boulder. It's kinda like the song says, if you can't be with the one you love, you can at least love the one you're with. But that doesn't mean you have to give up the chase. If I get my dream ranch, that'll be a wonderful thing. But if I don't, the years spent living in the heart of Boulder while trying on some level to get it will also have been wonderful, just in different ways.

Today was a good day. I always learn something when I take time out to step back and let the Universe teach me.