As I’m typing this, I’m in the valley seated on a red rock just east of God’s Ass.

It is a balmy 55 degrees, with light winds and cloudy skies. The red sandy trails are muddy with snowmelt, but I’ve managed to negotiate them just fine in my cowboy boots (I really need to keep my hiking boots in my truck). I don’t have my camera, I haven’t had lunch yet, but after spending time on campus today, I just needed to retreat to the valley for a bit. 

It’s been a long day… And it’s only noon. 

I’m not sure why, but I went to campus feeling much jumpier than usual. I just felt completely out-of-place; even more so than I’ve been feeling. I felt completely and utterly trapped, like the towering skyscrapers surrounding me were closing in. The city air felt stuffy and suffocating; every time I inhaled, some unpleasant scent, like car exhaust or perfume, would fill my nostrils rather than fresh air. And, as usual, there were people everywhere, and none of them seemed even remotely friendly. 

Still, I pressed on, knowing that I was just suffering from a particularly strong bout of anxiety. I figured by walking faster and even trudging through snow, I’d be able to get some of the jitters out of my system. Unfortunately, no amount of hard, physical work seemed to relax me even a little. 

Why was I so anxious? Again, I didn’t know. I just had to trust that it was entirely irrational and it would soon go away. 

Unfortunately, my anxiety never went away for as long as I was on campus. In fact, it grew only worse and worse as I sat through my biology lecture. My body was screaming at me to get up and get moving. But where to? I was right where I needed to be. 

A little over an hour later, the biology lecture ended and I got the hell outta dodge! 

I hoofed it back to my Xterra, which was parked on the fourth floor of the Tivoli garage. Not even eight flights of steep, concrete stairs put a dent in my inexplicable anxiety.

Even once I was on the road, headed southwest on I-25 towards 6th avenue, my anxiety didn’t even slightly loosen its grip. My chest felt sore, my throat felt tight, my mouth felt dry. I guzzled down an entire bottle of water before I even got past the Federal exit, and still, I felt terrible. 

Whatever was going on, I knew that going directly home and hiding in my basement den wasn’t the solution, nor was wolfing down a burrito from Chipotle. After all, I still had lots of busywork to tackle, but if I went directly home, I wouldn’t be able to focus. So, once I reached the Ken Caryl exit off 470, instead of turning left at the light, I veered right, passing between two hogbacks into the valley. 

As soon as my boots stepped onto red rock, all of my anxiety and stress instantly lifted from my shoulders. My lungs welcomed the cool, fresh air and the scents of mud, grass, and ponderosa trees. And instead of feeling trapped by the massive red rock wall to my right, I felt safe and protected by it.