Walk the Miles You Are Given

After the fire alarm went off, I realized I grabbed my purse and computer instead of my coat. 

Then while outside in the freezing weather, I was reminded that life is pretty funny sometimes and you just have to walk the miles you are given.

I was in Denver this past weekend with my best friend Lindsay for the National Western Livestock Show.  

For several years now, we have been those Indiana farm girls grounded in our roots that love to take our wings west.  And we embrace the adventures along the way, even if it's not in our plan at the moment.

During one trip from Denver through Wyoming and into Montana we stopped along dirt roads to photograph the beautiful western scenery.  We looked like strange tourists in dresses and boots with a crappy rental and fancy cameras.  But we were in heaven, and took a moment to appreciate our surroundings.

As girls that grew up with cattle, we were amused by this sign and stopped to take a picture.  

While on top of this mountain along the Beartooth Highway, we thought it would be a good idea to call our moms while we had phone service.  Well.....we got to the top of the hill here and as we were talking to our moms, a truck pulled behind our car.  We were instantly scared and I realized that I even left the keys in the car so we could have been stranded if they were to take our crappy rental.

But turns out, it was a friendly old man who was making his way through the pass and wanted to make sure we were okay.  Unexpected surprises on the road aren't always scary.

But then there was the time we were stalked by mountain men (and we thought they were chasing us).  Or the time we got the last room at a Motel 8 with nothing but construction workers and truckers.  

And we must not forget the time that we almost slept in our car because there was no vacancy in a small Wyoming town due to a Quarter Horse Show.

But when in Denver, a mile high, we somehow seem comfortable as we find our roots in every corner.  It may be in the old stockyards or talking to an old man who is a descendant of Laura Ingalls Wilder (no joke).

And we never forget the wings that brought us west.  

I find it funny at times, we both are so grounded in Indiana and rooted in our history, 

but yet we love the miles our wings take us on.  

And we always remind each other, as we all should,

 to not blink when on your adventures or you will miss the beauty of it all.

When my flight was cancelled late on Monday, I kind of forgot about the beauty.  After long lines, hours on the phone, booking my flight in my maiden name, rounding up college kids to share a cab with and the fire alarm at 7:30 a.m. in the always lovely Quality Inn well.....I forgot about the beauty of the adventure.

It wasn't until I helped a couple get home, realized I helped the poor college kids and had great conversations with people at the airport that I felt better.  That maybe the miles I was given for this trip were not only meant to enjoy Denver but to slow down and appreciate the adventure.

We are only given so many miles in our lives. 

I understand everyone has somewhere to be, but can't we slow down and it enjoy it all for a minute.

So while we may be a mile high on our next adventure or see many miles of the road ahead, 

slow down, walk the miles you are given, appreciate the people and places around you and enjoy.