“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way again.” -Azar Nafisi
This blog isn’t about the World Race. I’m just overflowing with thoughts and emotions and nostalgia and the only thing I can do is write about it and this is my best place to share. Besides, if it weren’t for the World Race, these words wouldn’t need to be written because I wouldn’t be leaving this beautiful and special place.
I drive away from the Buffalo Valley, over Togwotee Pass, the same drive I’ve made a dozen times, only this time I won’t be returning. And as the Tetons finally disappear from the horizon in my rearview mirror, quiet, and then not-so-quiet tears escape from my eyes and pour down my cheeks as I abandon my dream life to chase some crazy scary adventure that God has called me into.
People come to this part of the country because it’s breathtaking and awe-inspiring and they need a week or so to get away from their mundane desk jobs they have in the city. They come to ski, they come to see their first-ever herd of bison, they come to watch geysers explode from the earth and they come to hike to remote glacial lakes that will never get enough credit. And without these people I would be without a job, so I’m thankful and I understand and I try to not let my judgment get the best of me when they ask “who waters the trees out here?” and “at what elevation do deer turn into elk?”
But this place, this place that is never stagnant, this place that people spend $30 for a t-shirt because it says “Jackson Hole”, this place that is abounding with beauty and wildlife, this place is home. And now I’ve only been added to the list of thousands of people who have come and then left, even though I feel I’ve earned the badge of being a “local.”
I’ve lived here for 610 days. It’s not forever, but it has been enough for a whole lot of life to happen. I drove into the valley in a blizzard on December 1st, 2014, not knowing the area or anybody here, and now I’m leaving with a heart that feels tethered to these mountains, a heart that feels heavy as if the entire weight of the Teton range has been placed upon it.
It’s impossible to choose favorite memories. I have skiied, snowboarded, snowmobiled, snowshoed, dog-sledded, and ran my car into an icy snowbank. I have scooped hundreds of pounds of poop, thrown hundreds of saddles, rode hundreds of miles, and fallen in love with at least a hundred horses. I have been thrown into the water trough twice. I have hiked to faraway places that probably resemble heaven. I have had my cheeks ache from smiling so much, and I have almost given up and abandoned ship early during one of the emotionally toughest seasons of my life. Over these two years though, these last six weeks have maybe been the best—there’s something about knowing you’re leaving a place that makes you say “YOLO” and give up sleep in exchange for adventures and star gazing and drive-in movies and lots of swing dancing.
Mostly, as I sit here preparing for this next incredibly exciting journey, I just feel lucky. And that might be poor word choice—I could say thankful, grateful, humbled, #blessed—but somehow God led ME to spend the last two years of my life with the Grand Tetons outside my window, getting paid to ride horses and teach line dances with the best friends who have turned into family—how could I not feel lucky? Shoutout to the Big Man Upstairs for writing this chapter into my life story, although I don’t think it’s done quite yet. I find peace in knowing that the World Race is where I’m supposed to go next. That has never been a doubt in my mind. So for now, to that beautiful Buffalo Valley and my forever favorite mountain range, until the Good Lord calls me back—I’ll be missin’ you.
