Movement

Journeys often begin with excitement, exhaustion, and a little sadness.  Ours did anyway. A few friends came to see us off,*some* of whom graciously videoed our struggle to lighten our overweight suitcases three minutes before departure. We staggered aboard with two backpacks each, as well as armfuls of miscellaneous objects, either cast out from their original packaging, or never having found a secure spot. Once we had tamed our luggage we sat and let our sweat dry, then teetered to the back of the train to watch Portland disappear. Bye bye, Portland. You’ve been good to us.

It takes time to iron out the mix of feelings upon departure. The exhaustion tends to increase temporarily as spending a night in coach is not conducive to rest. The other emotions dissipate over time as your senses become absorbed in the new stimuli: the stunning scenery from the observation car, the curious conversations of other passengers, the hook of a good book. Gradually a new feeling begins to emerge: restlessness. Despite attempts at aerobic exercise during the longer stops, it’s never quite enough to satisfy. Exercise for the sake of exercise after isn’t so much fun—especially on strip of gray concrete. (I still say that if I ever work on a train, I’ll divide passengers up. Smokers to the east, nonsmokers to the west—and over in the nonsmoking section I’d get out my boom box, turn the volume up and lead everyone in an energetic  5-minute dance.)

We arrived in Glenwood Springs April 30, and found ourselves (after nourishment) exuberant to be moving our bodies. We’ve walked the town, swam in the hot springs pool (two blocks long!), biked the Rio Grande trail to Carbondale and back. Today, after organizing our stuff we may squeeze in another hike. Our last greedy bit of movement before that luxury is taken away.

Sonya