I like views.
I like starting at the bottom of something, and looking up ahead and thinking, for a split second, that I need to come up with an excuse to turn around.
I like convincing myself that there is no valid excuse at the moment, that moving and going will erase the lazy desire for said made-up excuse. (You are dumb, you made up that excuse last week. Time to get original.)
I like picking up the pace.
I like slowing down when there’s a slight change of environment so I can enjoy it.
I like saying hello to others.
I like getting to the point where I feel grateful.
I like the feeling of “almost there.”
I like pushing through the last few challenging maneuvers.
And then I like the views.
There’s no denying that views are spectacular, pretty much wherever you go. The word ‘view’ automatically implies an aesthetically pleasing scene. Sometimes thrilling, sometimes just…nice.
From them, you can see what you can’t when you’re living your normal life.
People and cars look like ants.
Things like clouds and trains and rivers and airplanes get more and more lethargic the farther away they are. The world is suddenly big and there and opened up, like it always is, but just especially in that moment for you to notice.
At the view, I like knowing what it took to get there.
I like looking forward to a different perspective during the descent.
I like the challenge of not looking at the same thing the same way twice.
I like seeing the same thing again, and finding confirmation I’m going the right way.
I like getting back to the start, knowing I have another experience under my belt, and another story to tell.
I like views.