Happy hour

This post goes out to my old friends from The Rocky Mountain News … what I wouldn’t give to tip back a cold one with you after work one more time.

It’s not the deadlines or hours I miss, but having you in my orbit.

Last night I dreamed about going to a party where everyone from the Rocky was there, like the happy hour I went to after the Rocky folded.

In my dream everyone looked content  and happy with life and work today. (I hope that’s true and not just in my head.) 

I woke up feeling bittersweet and couldn’t get back to sleep. I cried a bit and now I’m writing.

It’s been two years since the Rocky’s demise and almost five years since I dropped off the planet into mommy-dom. Most days I don’t think much of it anymore, but I guess you can run but not hide from your subconscious.

While my journalist friends have spread out across the country, and in some cases, across the globe to find their place, I’ve run and run for miles in search of my post-Rocky self. She’s now the virtual poster child for Boston or Botox. In real life she’s a mom, marathon runner and Boston qualifier. Where she’ll go from there, digitally and otherwise, I have no idea.

What I know is: I’m still a journalist at heart. I left a livelihood I loved out of what I felt was necessity at the time for my family. Then my old livelihood up and left me (and my Rocky colleagues, too) like a cheating spouse.
 
Working under daily deadlines, however, builds your stamina and resolve. I refuse to let anyone or anything keep me down, and that fire that drove me in the newsroom now fuels my writing, running and training.

In my old life I worked side-by-side with some of the best people in my industry. We slew deadline dragons each day with finesse. If any of my Rocky friends are reading this now, you should know: you were my tribe. Thank you. 

I’m sure that’s what the dream was about — I miss you guys.

These days I feel a similar kinship to my running friends. They seem to get who I am, just like my Rocky friends did.

A chilled brewski at about 1 or 2 a.m. with work pals after putting the news of the day to bed — those were my happy hours past.

The hard work. the lessons I got, and the memories of it will always be with me.

Sunrise runs with my morning running friends followed by an endorphin kicker — these are my happy hours present.

What will be my happy hours in the future? I hope it merges parts of both those worlds. Surely it will come after I cross the finish line at the Boston Marathon. That will be cause for another celebration with friends, old and new.

It does not get much better than, does it?

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Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Mileage today: 9; Denver to Boston miles logged: 1486; Miles left to go: 284.




 

 

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