Background: Read this article from GOOD

As a dude who grew up on five acres in rural Indiana, running around outside with my best-dog friend Casey was a common activity. We lived next to Lemon Lake county park and I could sneak inside through a hole in the fence. At my disposal were miles of trails and plenty of squirrels for Casey to chase.

Living in Manhattan was a stark contrast. The notion of running around outside didn’t really exist there. Central Park was the closest thing to nature, and it’s not altogether safe.

One Saturday afternoon while Mimi worked at the gallery, I decided to hike from 59th St. to 110th St. within the park. I found a remote spot and climbed up, only to find two men shooting heroin at the top. They asked me if I was a cop. I said no. They told me to leave.

I left.

Boulder is a unique place. It’s educated, safe, healthy and extremely active. I didn’t realize how important nature was to me until I removed myself from it, and now that the tranquilizers have worn off and I’ve re-introduced myself into the wild, I have no plans to repeat the removal. 

When you immerse yourself in the wild, you’re reminded of your place in the food chain. Lock eyes with any wild animal and you’ll feel something most city-dwellers forget. The world is not an inherently safe place. We’ve toiled for centuries to create an ecosystem that feels safe and comfortable, but we are still extremely vulnerable. 

The problem? Most of us don’t feel vulnerable, and won’t, until the abundance of resources at our disposal ceases to exist.

Survival of the fittest…