When, at long last, I spotted the Colorado River from my perch atop the Poison Spider Mesa, I waxed poetic to my new friend about the singular pleasure of a Milt’s malt, and how I believed I was finally ready to take my relationship with Milt’s to the next level: Would I finally take the plunge and order tots AND onion rings?
In 1987, the New York Giants beat the Denver Broncos in Super Bowl XXI, and Giants quarterback Phil Simms kicked off what has become perhaps one of the best-known phrases in marketing history.
“I’m going to Disneyland!” he exclaimed.
Thanks to a tragically short attention span, I don’t really follow professional sports, and I’m certainly not one of those steel-trap folks who can tell you sport-trivia from decades before they were born. But this phrase rings true with me. Continue reading “Ode to a Cheeseburger”
This morning I had a very positive check-in with my thesis advisor and, feeling uncharacteristically favorable about the state of my manuscript, decided to reward myself with a run on my favorite trail before the temperature soared from “hot” to the forecasted “blistering.” (By reward, of course, I really mean stave off self-loathing, but I suppose that’s for another post.)
Continue reading “No rest for the wicked: How my morning run turned into a discourse on feminism”
The Centennial State has been good to me so far. In the wake of my grief over losing Lucky, I find myself most at peace when my poor, sea level-spoiled lungs are gasping for thin, Rocky Mountain air. It’s the pounding on my knees, the familiar, repetitive motions, the sun beating down on my already sunburned shoulders. The throbbing and aching and sweating are welcome if fleeting distractions, and the runners’ high after a long jaunt is usually enough to ward off Lucky-related tears for awhile.
Continue reading “Adventures at Altitude: How the Mile High City Took My Breath Away, Literally”