How I Learned to Love Being Vastly Uncomfortable
Summer vacations are meant to be relaxing, especially as a youngster. I can vividly remember always looking forward to the summer months, not only because they meant that little league baseball was starting again and school was over, but the warmer weather signaled it was time to take a trip somewhere. For the first 12 years of my life, my family was a beach family. Our default position when it came to vacation was somewhere with sand and sunshine.
Year 13 brought about one of the biggest curveballs I’ve ever been thrown, and that’s coming from a former baseball player. A family friend was taking advantage of a deal, booking several cabins in Pagosa Springs, Colorado and asked my family if we wanted to tag along. At the time, I had never been north of Austin, Texas.
I was born and raised in Houston and considered myself a city boy to the bone. Spending a week hiking, rafting cold mountain rivers and horseback riding was like having teeth pulled for me. Being a teenager, I expressed my displeasure in the healthiest way I knew at the time: complaining. I wasn’t happy about spending my summer vacation putting on long sleeves as opposed to sunscreen. But again, I was just a teenager, so I had about as much say in the matter as my dog.
The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the scenery was on the fifteen hour drive up north to Colorado. As a 21-year-old, driving through small, north Texas towns isn’t a big deal, but as a 13-year-old, it was a completely new experience. This drive was my first taste of the small town charm Texas has to offer. Now, if you’ve ever driven through New Mexico, you have a pretty good idea of the type of natural beauty I was exposed to when we passed through our neighbor to the west.
If you haven’t, allow me to attempt to do it justice. First, assume everything is five times more breathtaking and beautiful in person. Many of the roads in New Mexico are surrounded by beautiful landscapes that look like something out of a Western movie or a Charles Marion Russell painting (look him up, he’s great).
All the colors of the rainbow seemed to be brighter and more vibrant as the sun hit them. There was a different feeling in the air whenever we would step out of the car. The best way I can describe it would be an overwhelming sense of natural peace. Like nothing had ever or could ever go wrong, even if all you were doing was pumping gas and feeling the San Juan wind on your face.
The second thing that struck me about the New Mexico scenery was the natural rock formations that had developed along the side of the roads we took. It appeared as though some unstoppable force had carved a path through solid rock so people from other states could experience the beauty of that landscape.
After well over fifteen hours, my family arrived in Colorado. The first thing that struck us was the smell of the air.
Pine. That’s all we could smell. Just the overwhelming aroma of pine trees. It smelled like Christmas, but outside and somehow better. The air felt cleaner. As much as I love Texas weather, the humidity I grew up with was suddenly gone. As I looked around, I was amazed at the fact that instead of seeing skyscrapers and highrises, I saw beautiful, majestic mountains on the horizon.
After a day or two, we made the short drive into Durango, Colorado for a day of hiking and exploring. Now, the trails we chose were not difficult to navigate by any stretch of imagination, but it was a daunting task for someone who had never so much as climbed a tall tree before.
But, there I was, hiking up some not-so treacherous paths in old gym shorts and Nike running shoes. I was already struggling with the elevation and thin air, but the views genuinely had me searching for my next breath.
It wasn’t long before my outlook on this trip started to change. Granted, it took seeing majestic peaks and mountains and photograph-worthy Colorado landscapes to get me to shift gears, but I got there.
There were many little moments throughout the day that stick in my mind, from my dad drinking water straight out of a small creek in the mountains to a friend crafting a makeshift walking stick out of a tree branch. There were laughs and jokes throughout the day, but it was the environment that made everything more special and meaningful.
As the day went on, we came to a small peak with two different ways to reach the top. One was a dirt path that worked its way up the backside of the peak. The other wasn’t really a path, it was actually just the front face of the peak that was covered in gravel and loose rocks.
Naturally, all of the young kids in our group fearlessly started running up the front, occasionally losing their footing and sliding back down. I, however, just sort of stood at the bottom, looking up at the top. I’ve always had a thing with heights, and the idea of perilously sliding down the front of a small rocky mountain didn’t exactly sound appealing to me at the time.
But, I started slowly walking up the mountain anyway. Call it whatever you want to call it. Peer pressure, adrenaline, flat out being an over-eager kid, I don’t know. But something made me start that climb.
Looking back on it, I think it was a desire to step out of my comfort zone. It was a desire, to a certain extent, to be uncomfortable. Doing scary things is exciting. Utterly stepping out of one’s comfort zone is a very liberating experience everyone should undertake. Taking slow, careful steps up that little mountain sent a feeling through my body I can’t explain. But it felt amazing, and it compelled me to write this.
Getting to the top of that little peak was one of the most physically and mentally rewarding things I’ve done. I mean sure, I’ve done things that were much more demanding, but there was just something about looking to my left and right and seeing nothing but beautiful pine trees and mountainous landscapes that made the climb extra special.
Nevermind the fact that once I got to the top, the adrenaline and excitement wore off and my dad had to come lead me back down. But, it was genuinely a special moment for me.
The next day, our group went horseback riding through the mountains. Again, this was something I had never even attempted. I probably turned the leather on the saddle grips a different shade of brown from gripping them so tight.
Yet, I did it anyway.
Later that day we went rafting through the mountains. Granted, we weren’t white-knuckling it through Cataract Canyon or anything, but again, this was a genuinely harrowing experience for me. I remember gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw was going numb by the end of the trip.
Stepping out of my comfort zone had become the unofficial theme of the whole trip.
I say all of that to say this: we should all step out of our comfort zone more often. First of all, stepping out of your comfort zone is fun, and everyone should be trying to inject more fun into their lives. Second of all, stepping out of your comfort zone can be incredibly valuable. If I hadn’t stepped out of mine, I never would have had these incredible experiences in Colorado that have sparked a genuine love of the outdoors in me.
That might surprise some people who know me. However, just because I don’t often get the chance to show it doesn’t mean my love of nature and natural beauty doesn’t exist. That trip exposed me to a level of beauty and wonder that, up to that point in my life, I had never seen up close.
I was scared walking up that little mountain. I was terrified of losing my footing or slipping back down or some other unknown bad thing that might’ve happened.
But that experience made me realize something: when we step out of our comfort zone and do something that truly scares us, we have a tremendous opportunity to learn something about ourselves and the larger world around us.
And that’s why my family’s trip to Pagosa Springs is still my favorite vacation I’ve ever taken. Because that trip taught me that the uncomfortable makes me comfortable.