Fight or Flock

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be hopping into a pick up truck with a twelve pack of Fat Tire beer and my road bike to head off for a weekend of hiking and biking with my girlfriends in southern Utah, I would have laughed in utter disbelief.  Clubbing in NYC or South Beach was more my style for the occasional female getaway back in the day.  Now that I’m a more mature woman of (gulp) nearly 45 years of age, I opt for the low maintenance, high calorie burn vacation.  

Honestly, in my thirties, I enjoyed my share of fun times with my lady friends.  A day in South Beach might be filled with a walk on the beach (if we weren’t too hung over), shopping, mojitos by the pool – constantly on the lookout for celebrities, (dining was not on the list of activities so we could look good in our bathing suits) getting our hair blown out and nails done, espresso martinis, and dancing at a one syllable club till the wee hours in a couture outfit.  

Nowadays, I still look forward to a vacation with the gals, but our days are drastically different.   Instead of small dresses, short shorts and bikinis – I pack hiking clothes, biking attire, and maybe some jeans for dinner.  When we arrive at our desert destination, we do a quick 30-mile ride to warm up through the red rock canyons of Moab.   After a beer by the pool, we head out for Mexican food and Margaritas.  In the morning we beeline to the nearest bakery and shovel in as much food as we can handle to fuel our action packed day.  Then we head off on our bikes for an 18-mile ride that seems mostly uphill.  We proceed to ditch our bikes, quickly change into our hiking clothes behind the disgusting port-a-potty and hike for an hour and a half to some arch or other.  Visa versa on the hike/bike thing and pedal home another 18 miles, which for some strange reason also seems to be uphill, even though I know this is not feasible.  Beer by the pool, eat, chat, repeat the next day. 

In response to stress, the human brain has a few options  – strong people will tend to fight, weak people take flight, men like to f&%k and women – we are inclined to flock.  During our girls’ weekends, we wallow in female bonding.  We talk for hours about topics ranging from world peace to menopause to death to childbirth.  I’m pretty sure that if you put a group of women together for a weekend and gave them a world problem to solve, they would have it nailed within 48 hours – in addition to hiking 20 miles, biking another 40, and coming up with a week’s worth of dinner menus.  It is the ultimate in multi-tasking – exercising, being a good friend, benefitting from free therapy and recipes, and appreciating nature.   

In High School, I didn’t have many women friends.  I prided myself on being a tomboy.  Boys were easier to understand, simple, not caddy – what you see is what you get.  I was perplexed by the female figure.  I had a few more friends in college and grad school, but it wasn’t until I had children that I found the value of the female companion.  Now I can’t imagine life without my girlfriends; they fulfill nearly all my needs.  They pick me up when I’m down, throw me birthday parties, make me dinner when I’ve been moving all day, retrieve and feed my kids, loan me clothes, put up with my flirty husband, send me cards, texts, and emails.  They listen to me complain, make me laugh until I cry, they stick up for me when I’ve been wronged, make me a drink when I need to relax and I know that they always have my back.  I feel lucky to have so many amazing women in my life.  I learn from them every day.  I imagine us all growing old together and living in an assisted living facility – taking art classes and silver sneakers together (finally I will get to kick their ass at some sport!) and laughing, eating pudding and not caring at all about the world’s problems.