The smell of buttery popcorn mingling with the cavity-inducing sweetness of caramel apples and cotton candy. Running in terror from giant fuzzy animals walking around on their back legs. Laughing at animatronics bears. Sitting on my dad’s shoulders and gasping as colored lights exploded over a towering dream of a castle.
Those are the more vivid memories I have of my first trip to Disney World. I was almost three years old.
My first trip to Disneyland came later, when I was eleven or twelve (no one in my family distinctly remembers which summer month our trip was in). I was just old enough to not be whiny and exhausted at the end of a full day of waiting and heat. I was just young enough to still immerse myself fully in the magic of the experience. It’s probably one of the greatest weeks of my entire life.
Now it is ten years later, four years since my most recent Disneyland visit, and I’ve discovered something. The excitement and the magic will never die for me. Somehow Disney manages to bring out the perpetual startled toddler, the mesmerized middle-schooler, the kid in me. Last night I was almost too excited to sleep; I felt like it was Christmas Eve when I was a kid listening hard for the sound of hooves on the roof.
By the time you’re reading this I’ll have already finished a super-speedy morning run. My family will be bundling into the car and heading to the park for the Fiancé’s first visit.
So I still have hope for a lot of things in my future. I’m not going to worry about becoming too jaded to enjoy new experiences. I’m not going to worry about the day that comes when I don’t love the magical experience of sitting down in a movie theater to watch a story unfold. I’m not going to worry that I’ll grow tired of surprises. I’m not going to worry about birthdays being routine. Because.
Because now I’m sure there’s still magic in my world.
I hope there is in yours, too.
On road tripping:
I love driving cross country. Piling into an overstuffed vehicle with your family and being stuck there for seven or eight hours may be a recurring nightmare for some of you, but somehow we get along better on road trips than we do at any other time.
Papo and I packed up snacks this morning while MamaDi, LilSis, and the Fiancé finished packing. Magically (I’m going to throw magic out there as much as I want on these Disney posts), I was mostly packed the night before so I had time to work out this morning.
According to my training plan I could strength train or cross train (non-running cardio) today, so I kind of did both. First I did twenty minutes of newbie-modified cardio yoga (which I maintain is strength training—that made my muscles shudder under the strain) and followed up with fifteen minutes on the elliptical machine in our basement.
I have to say, the elliptical is growing on me. The country club in town was selling their “old” ones since they were purchasing new equipment. My parents got a great deal on it and we’re all pretty excited because Papo’s knees aren’t what they’re used to. He’s an elliptical junkie ;) At any rate, the elliptical is slightly less loathsome than it used to be simply because of the convenience factor when it comes to cross training. I don’t have a gym membership and rarely have access to other cardio machines.
After everyone was showered and packed, luggage-Jenga ensued. Maybe we just pack more than so-called “sane” people *scoffs* I don’t know how we always end up with so much crap in the car when we go on vacation. This time we squished everything in MamaDi’s Yukon without needing a car-top carrier (a feat right up there with climbing K2 or running an ultra). Right now we’re about 150 miles from Los Angeles. The day’s views consisted largely of distant brownish mountains and scrubby desert; if they hadn’t I would’ve filmed/taken more pictures.
My computer’s about to die, but I wanted to type this up quickly while I knew what I wanted to say. Hope everything is well in Blogland, where you reside outside your computers.
Anyone up for luggage-Jenga?