All Motion Is Relative

Anyone who has known me for more than a month will undoubtedly be assailed with the information that I grew up in Boulder, Colorado. After nearly sixteen years of residence in Oakland, California, I still feel compelled to share with those I meet about what I lovingly refer to as "My Hometown."
People who are familiar with Boulder will generally get around to asking me, "Geez, why'd you leave?" The answer is fairly simple. Usually I tell anyone who asks that it came down to the fact that I had an apartment full of rent-to-own furniture, while my girlfriend lived with a bunch of very nice antiques. Her stuff was heavier and more expensive to move: simple economics.
But the truth cuts just a little deeper than that. As I approached my thirtieth birthday, I had lived in Boulder for my entire life, less the nine months I spent in Colorado Springs during my freshman year in college. Many of my friends, including my incipient wife liked to joke that I would be the last person out of Boulder, and if that were true, could I please remember to turn out the lights.
I didn't wait until I was pushed. Instead I jumped, and in doing so, startled many of those closest to me. I landed in Oakland and immediately set about putting down roots. I own a house. I still hate the Raiders, but I root for the A's. I have a piano. The inertia that kept me in Boulder is nothing compared to the vortex that is now holding me fast in the Bay Area. Which is why yesterday's mail was so amusing.
The back of the brochure had a picture of the Flatirons, the iconic slabs of granite that mark the beginning of the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. Over this was the legend: "Come back home to Boulder." It was an advertisement for a new condo development called "The Peloton." The Flatirons, my hometown, and my one of my all-time favorite bicycle racing terms all together in one package? How could I pass that up?
Easy. I'm somewhere else now. I am excruciatingly happy that I have family and friends that I can visit in Boulder, and I am always pleased and gratified to drive into town over Davidson Mesa to get one more glimpse of Boulder Valley. It's where I grew up, or started to, anyway. I came out here sixteen years ago to finish the job, and I'm getting pretty close. So I put the brochure in the recycling, and started making plans for the next visit my family would make to my hometown.