Chase the Sun

Time. It’s a funny thing. 60 seconds to each minute. 60 minutes to each hour. 24 hours to each day. 365 days to each year (a bonus day even if it’s a Leap Year).

It’s so… measured and predictable.

The Earth spins on its axis every 24 hours and goes around the sun every 365 days.

I turn 40 years old in 49 days. When I was creating my 40×40 bucket list, I added a rather random item. I said I wanted to “chase the sun”—to see it rise on the east coast and set on the west coast in the same day. It was both romantic concept and travel-karma challenge.

Those who know me and follow me on social media know that I have been—still am?—airline travel challenged. I don’t know what travel god I pissed off, but it seems my punishment includes delays, sprinting through airports, missed flights, cancellations, and lost luggage. A trip that goes uninterrupted by these is much more the anomaly. To think I could actually accomplish this feat was… well, going to be a challenge.

I actually thought at one point that I’d have to finagle this bucket list item—considering how I might get across the state of Florida or perhaps Virginia’s Eastern Shore in the same day—to accomplish at least a modified version of the task I’d defined (spirit of the law sort of deal). But that just didn’t seem right. So I did some research and planning. I looked up flight times, connections, first daylight and sunrise schedules, sunset and dusk calendars, and I decided what better opportunity than to also accomplish another bucket list item:

Take a vacation alone.

I’m a very extroverted introvert. I can pull out the charm, put on the schmooze, work a room, or be spunky for whatever occasion or duration calls. But once done, I’m exhausted. It does not give me energy. It sucks it out of me. And, I’m a single-mom to three little girls– ages 10, 8 and almost 5 years old. So the idea of free time, relaxation, or doing nothing—or doing ANYTHING actually ALONE—well, um, foreign concept. I’ve barely peed alone I the past ten years, much less taken a vacation.

So I’m off. I’m chasing the sun. I’m vacationing alone across Memorial Day weekend 2017.

I departed Virginia on Friday night—perfectly timing a Fancy Gap sunset.

I woke early in Charlotte on Saturday morning to catch Mr. Sunshine and his orange-pink skies come up over the Queen City’s skyline.

And Saturday night, I enjoyed a glass of Prosecco and some lobster risotto as the San Diego sun began its decent into the Pacific Ocean, moving outside to sit among the Mission Bay rocks as it crept lower and more beautifully behind the Mission Beach palm trees.

I effectively and without interruption chased the sun. And it was glorious. Especially since the Pacific Coast concepts of “May Grey” leading to “June Gloom” were not shared in my trip-planning tourism research. It is a fair and accurate statement to say that there were no other sunsets during my visit. Or rather, I’m sure it set—just behind some very thick “blackout” clouds. It was a whole new twist on Fifty Shades of Grey. I got pretty lucky I’d say.

I must admit the vacation alone concept was a nice thought but the reality was quite glorious. I’ve finished a novel and started a new one. I’ve written two blogs. I’ve colored in my stress-free meditation coloring book. I rented a city bike and putzed around for nearly 2 hours (which my ass still feels). Despite the cooler than I expected temperatures, I donned my bathing suit and sat by the pool. Delightful idea, but deceiving given my new UVA/UVB damaged skin– my thighs, forehead, and nose are proof courtesy of the sun burn that resulted. I ate multiple meals alone, perfectly content. I put my phone and technology aside. I slept 12 straight hours (what?!). I enjoyed spa treatments without guilt and stayed super slick, slimy, and greasy for hours after just to indulge the moisturization saturation.

And, 36 hours in… I was going a little bit stir-crazy.

Don’t get me wrong, it was great. And I was all good. But I discovered I want an afternoon or a day off occasionally, not a life (or vacation) alone. I want to be adventurous, spontaneous, and people watch my way through life with others.

So, when my handsome Coloradoan beau Jack said, “I’m here” through my iPhone– I’m pretty sure the cove seals heard this human squeal. My buddy, compadre, and partner in crime came to save my stir-crazy self. I’d chased the sun, vacationed alone (as much as I wanted to), and now had my better half by my side. We were silly with in the Lyft singing Madonna’s Like a Prayer, shared a Deuce Coupe in Balboa Park (scaring the bejesus out of him while driving a bit wildly and laughing like a hyena), walked aimlessly around Coronado Island and shared a gigantic pretzel (with a un-labeled spicy mustard that was so hot my nose hairs singed and Jack’s head itched), and enjoyed a meal not alone, but rather in the company of another over a wonderful bottle of red and some enlightening and amusing conversation.

I’d had 48 hours alone and 36 hours with my best friend. I’d choose the latter a thousand times over.

I chased the sun and found my sunshine. I vacationed alone and explored in tandem. And I realized that, while I need moments of peace and quiet occasionally, I absolutely adore my life and the chaos of my normal. I missed hearing my Trifecta’s giggles and arguing—as well as the word “mom” uttered 22 times per minute. I missed my cat Rosey crawling into my lap and demanding a head scratch. I missed my mom’s loving, supportive presence and occasional nagging about laundry piles, scattered shoes, or the girls’ bedtimes. And I realized even more how much I miss having Jack as part of my daily… the laughter he elicits, the encouragement he provides, and the unconditional love he gives.

The very dear Patty Perillo often says, all good things happen in the context of relationship. And I couldn’t agree more. Being “in relation” with others—whether co-workers, family, or the random Lyft driver who attended Virginia Tech—is what makes life worth living. The capacity to share, love, and connect is one of life’s greatest joys. I’m lucky to have so many people whom I miss so readily.

Farewell San Diego and California sunsets, I’m heading back to my East Coast chaos and carrying Colorado with me. It’s been real.