Microwave Panini: Falling leaves, reflection, and dating.

My Mother has an excellent point when she says, "I don't understand why people don't date anymore. It seems like they go straight from meeting to being in a long-term, committed relationship." After thinking about this point quite a bit in recent months, I think that I have some insight to offer. I wasn't alive before 1985, and I hardly remember anything before 1995, but my hypothesis rests on the assumption that young people are simply a heck of a lot busier than they used to be. Maybe that's patently false, but I honestly can't see a way that I would be able to integrate the "2-3 dates/week stage" into my life right now. Once a week is pushing it. And I feel like my peers are the same way. So, if you're really going to get to know someone...if you're really going to connect, it is going to have to be made easier in some way. And how do most people do it? Well, they just settle in, get comfortable, and start acting like they've been together forever. If you see each other every night and count on it, then there's little stress about making the time. Its just, "Honey! I'm home." Problem is...when you realize that you're not compatible, you're already in it deep. Maybe people are just more impatient now too.

So recently, I had this date: cute girl, super smart, firecracker to say the least, and a Dartmouth undergrad. So, I make my usual Indian feast, and she comes over. We talk, we laugh, we have a good time, and we make tentative plans for the future. Then she leaves. Coming off of the intensity of a 5-6 hour interaction like that can be tough. Ultimately, I found that it left me feeling strangely reflective and lonely. I wasn't lonely in the traditional sense, more lonely in the cosmic sense. Just a few notes from a song of personal meaning would leave me with goosebumps. I found myself analyzing, thinking, "Am I really compatible with this person? What am I looking for?" And yet, we've only had one date. How could I know? Is the experience of my past relationships now so ingrained in me that I look at every woman through the marriage lens?

There are also special times when one's own mood coincides with that of Mother Nature. Yesterday was a grey, cold, still fall day. I headed out for an easy MTB ride to get back in the flow before racing in Maine this weekend. And I found some remarkable things. The quiet is back again. Some weeks ago I discussed the first quiet commute to work. Well, we were granted a brief reprieve from that still air before the grey days of October have firmly arrived in New England. There are some amazing differences now. The trees are starting to change. They are dropping their leaves. If you stop in the forest, you can actually *hear* individual leaves falling. In a matter of days, the trails have become carpeted with color and crunch. That smell...its like I'm back in Williamstown. I'm transported to Stone Hill. The fungi are incredible right now too. After a full season to feed, there are orange masses the size of my head...miniature pure white castles emerging from the mud. Was fall made with cold air on purpose? Was it meant to be a time for reflection? What am I supposed to find except for nostalgia? What if I don't find it before that first snow? And yet, deep inside I know that the first snow too will bring its own nostalgia, its own reflection. Yes folks, we're entering the "heavy" seasons. And I'm not sure how it is going to work out. My last foray into those dark days left my body and mind broken. I hope that I have the renewed fortitude not just to survive the storm, but to feed from its own lessons, to emerge stronger on the other side.

Maybe it was the quiet, cold air, maybe it was the colors, or maybe it was the post-date reflective haze, but as I stood there yesterday next to Boston Lake, I felt in awe. I felt in awe like I do when I'm home in Colorado, looking down from those peaks that stand outside of time. I felt in awe in maybe the same way that Bob Seger does. I had a friend too. A beaver spent maybe 10 minutes swimming laps right in front of me. And he would have kept going if I hadn't have left. What was he trying to tell me? I honestly can't know. All I can do is forge ahead. I can say, though, that it is a heck of a lot harder to say "WTF" and go for it when you feel so deeply reflective. But I have no choice. And that strong compulsion for deep reflection is dangerous in the world of dating. It can cause a deep ache, a deep need for comfort, for love. As counterintuitive as it sounds, being highly reflective can land one in a situation totally devoid of wisdom and cognitive choice.

For some media, enjoy these pics of the giant Euro recovery ride from last Friday and my HR charts from the UNH short track as well as the Catamount Cyclocross race.