Outside our offices in Boulder, Colorado, there are two dudes tailgating in the parking lot. They’re shirtless, sipping Coronas, and munching chips, salsa, and guac. The computer resting in the trunk space of their SUV is pumping some indefinable music, and they are hardly aware of anything happening outside the two parking places they are occupying. I don’t really envy them. They’re likely trying to salvage the potential fun they lost when they found out they’d have to stay in town for CU’s spring break. But I do resent them, if only for the moment, since I’m currently working and they aren’t.

I miss spring break. It was a specific event that marked the changing season. The sun was staying out longer, and I had more time to hang out after classes. The snow was melting so I knew I needed to get in my final snowboarding before it all vanished into the rivers flowing through the Rockies. My beverage choices changed. Saint Patty’s Day was always my last Guinness, and I would switch from hot to iced coffee.

I’ve never been very good at climbing in the gym all winter, so spring gives me the opportunity to get outside and start climbing again. I have to try to lose the extra doughy sections that accumulate around my waist and stomach after a winter of loafing and drinking beer. How else will I be able to take my shirt off when summer finally arrives to impress all those sheilas, newly single from the “spring cleaning” that happens when the young and beautiful start wearing less clothing outside? That’s another thing I’ve never really understood about spring: everyone ditches his or her S.O. for the fun and fancy-free single life of frivolous promiscuity. I guess I see the draw, but half of them end up back together anyway.

Usually in the spring I try to pick a new project. I like projects. It’s good to have something I’ll likely never do, but can spray about trying. Last year it was a 5.14a I was never really that close to sending, but openly lied about getting closer to sending anyway. This year I’m thinking about bumping it up to 5.14c, despite the fact that my 8a.nu score is worse now than this time last year.

Most of all, I guess I’m happy that it’s warm. I no longer have to hope for “unseasonably” high temps on the weekends. I find it easier to chase shade than chase sun, and I like being able to blame my sending failures on the heat, humidity, and other sun-related problems. I like that I turn from a near transparent, pasty pinkish color to a much darker pinkish, sunburned color. I like sitting on patios to eat and drink. I like girls in sundresses, shorts, and tank tops. I like driving with the windows down, sweating in my bed every night because I refuse to turn on the air conditioner, and going swimming. Spring is new, it’s fresh, and it’s uplifting. It’s the time of year when I feel most comfortable changing up my routine, since everything else is changing around me.

A man with a whiny voice once said, “The times they are a-changin’.” I’m inclined to agree, and that’s not always a bad thing. Take this weather for example. It’s supposed to snow something like eight inches tomorrow [edit: it did], and then it’s supposed to go right back to being in the 60s [edit: it also did]. Urban Climber has changes of its own. I’ve taken the reins at UC, which is great, except for the article queries jamming my Facebook page. Stop it. Really. As each new issue lands on the newsstand or in your mailbox, I hope you’ll find the same great-and-getting-greater magazine. The issue you’re holding is our annual road trip issue, and within its pages you’ll find inspiration, entertainment, and maybe that extra push you need to get out the door, into your car, and on the road. Check out Road Warrior (p. 42) where we attempt to give you some guidance for all those conundrums of etiquette that pop up. Also look at Anneliese Penzendorfer and Klause Isele’s feature Coming To America (p. 56) for two Austrians’ opinion on traveling within the U.S. (hint: rethink the stereotypes).

As we begin a new season, enjoy the weather, keep fightin’ for the anchors, and embrace the change. — Andrew Tower

NAME
ADDRESS 1
ADDRESS 2
CITY
STATE & ZIP
EMAIL (req)

NAME
ADDRESS
ADDRESS 2
CITY
STATE & ZIP
EMAIL (req)