People who know me well will not be surprised to find out I’m in Colorado again. But folks who have either stumbled upon the site or the podcast might not be so familiar. Outside of the trip Shaun and I took last August (which was in the middle of a four-week stretch without any episodes posting) and a mention in the July 31 episode, it hasn’t been a big deal around ATB.

I’ll probably be doing a fancier post about the sights and sounds of the trip next week once it’s over, but in the meantime, this is a selfish post about me.

In 2010, I took a week off in August (for another Colorado trip, as it happened) and then screwed up on some planning and didn’t take the rest of my vacation time until April. Part of that was out of my control — at the newspaper, the September-December period is a 99% dead zone for PTO because of all the holiday and bigger papers that happen during the last four months of the year. Still, by April I was pretty burnt out and ready to get the hell out of Dodge, and I told myself I wouldn’t wait so long between breaks next year.

Well, I told myself a terrible lie. I’m mad at myself for doing that to myself.

As you’ve already started to piece together, I was in Colorado in August again last year…and now it’s June. Apparently I’m terrible at applying the lessons I learn. The past 10 months have been tumultuous at best, with family health problems, more work stress, a monthlong moving nightmare and a litany of other bumps in the road (some of which have been brought up on the show over the course of that time). Yet I still waited this long to get away, probably because I’m pretty dumb sometimes.

Sitting here in bed with a nice view out the window this morning, it’s finally starting to feel like this is happening. I’m sure that feeling will only get more vivid in the next 24-48 hours. But it seemed like the anticipation, the build-up, was almost nonexistent — and that’s half the fun sometimes. With so many work days packed in before we were able to leave, the day of the drive came out of nowhere. And even when the trip was a cognizant thought, a burning, phosphorous light at the end of a pitch-black tunnel, it felt less like an impending reward and more like a novice runner crossing the finish line at the Boston Marathon, then collapsing afterward and not moving for a week.

How’s that for a metaphor?

I’m still excited to be here and to enjoy the week ahead. There are certainly worse problems in life than getting paid to have a week off in beautiful country and great weather. But maybe next year I’ll learn my lesson and not burn out before my vacation time.

Then again, maybe not.