I am home.
I am not sure how I feel, or how I am supposed to feel. In fact, I did not feel anything until I pulled into the driveway of my house. There were no emotions as I left my home in Boulder for the last time. There were no emotions as I watched the Rockies shrink and vanish in the rearview. No pain, no sadness, no joy; nothing. Maybe all my emotions were all played out, and I had moved on to simple acceptance. Boulder did not work out. I wanted it to. I wanted it bad. I wanted the mountains. I wanted the altitude. I wanted it. After a while, however, you have to be able to step back and acknowledge the fact that you are banging your head against wall, busting your ass hanging on, waiting for doors to open that simply are not going to. You have to realize that you are retreating into yourself. You have to realize that it is not a good sign when you would much rather talk to your loved ones on the cell phone than ride your bike. You have to realize that you are not happy.
Boulder is an elite place. It is not all tree-hugging, granola-eating hippies. There is a lot of money, a lot of talent, and an air of superiority. It will chew you up and spit you out if you do not have your shit together. I have never been the type to back down from a challenge, and I threw my hat in the ring. I went in with incredible focus, and I gave it a damn good shot. It did not work out.
I am back in Rochester now, and that is where I need to be right now. I have been living in a haze for months now. Some time with my loved ones should bring me back to reality, and to life. Some times you must take one step back to take two steps forward. To move on is to grow.