I was at the climbing gym one day, when this cute guy I knew through a friend came in with his bike and asked if I want to join him and a friend to go work his climbing project at Eleven Mile Canyon. It just so happened to be a route I had been working as well, so I eagerly accepted the invitation. We all ended up sending the climb that day, but little did we know, much bigger things were in motion. After a few days of lots and lotssss of texts about theology, and childhood, and climbing, etc. Patrick asked me on our first date. We went to a little place called Burrowing Owl and I just remembered how much he talked (red flag, I wondered?). He made up for it about a week later, when he drove/rode all the way to KY to climb with me at The Red River Gorge. Though he had recently found out he had epilepsy and couldn't help me drive, he provided excellent snacks and filled the 16+ hours asking me questions and listening to me talk. After an epic few days of climbing, I dropped him off at the Lexington airport before I drove on to NC to meet Callie's new baby! As we were saying our goodbyes, he said, "I love you." All I could say in return was "Ok, woww." I couldn't help but wonder if this was another red flag? Did he really even know me? It didn't take long for him to prove it was true. He proved over and over again how much he cared and how deeply he really did know me. It didn't take me too much longer to realize I really loved him too. As indecisive as I can be, Patrick was an easy decision and I can't wait to spend the rest of forever with him!

It all started on one of the hottest days of summer in August. My plan (Patrick) was to create an opportunity where Julie and I would be separated, allowing me to escape. Why, you might ask? To initiate a scavenger hunt that would culminate in a proposal. My strategy for separating us hinged on convincing her to take a shower. On that sweltering sunny day, I proposed we do hot yoga—surely, that would necessitate a shower afterward. Indeed, she did shower, but it was too early for my plans. I had aimed to propose at sunset on this hot yet beautifully dynamic day. After her first shower, I needed her to take another, however later. That led to a 90-degree hike down one of our favorite trails. Although we could have completed it much faster, I decided it was essential for her to get sweaty enough for a shower without needing the more thorough "full-shower." Throughout our hike, I kept asking, "How sweaty are you?" "Are you getting too hot?" "You don't need a full shower, do you?" This was out of character for me—she suspected something was up. After the hike, we returned to my place. Naturally, Julie needed a shower, providing me with the perfect opportunity to begin the proposal. I gathered all necessary items for the scavenger hunt: clues, letters, ribbons, keepsakes, and friends. While she showered, I rushed downstairs to retrieve the ribbon from the basement and everything else required for the scavenger hunt. I ran upstairs with tape to secure the ribbon. As I attempted to tape the first strand to the floor, it coiled around my finger instead. The next strand, too, wrapped around my middle finger. Panicking, I managed to secure the ribbon with my ring finger, marking the path to the first clue. With the hunt underway, I moved to the next location. I then sprinted to her car in my driveway, started the engine, and drove across the street to my mother's driveway. This house, where I stayed during a period I couldn't drive due to epilepsy—a story for another time—holds many of our early memories. After this short journey, I switched cars in the garage to reach the next clue location. Although it was a scavenger hunt meant to challenge her, I left nothing to chance to avoid Julie needing to drive. I enlisted my friend Isaac (mentioned in the wedding party) to guide her spirit through this adventure. He would accompany her to the hunt's end, allowing me to stay a step ahead by coordinating via our phones. I led her to CityRock, where I asked her out, and then to the Burrowing Owl, where we had our first date. Before she arrived at the Burrowing Owl, I had already reached the final station to propose. As I waited, time ticked by—thirty minutes, then an hour, and the sun began to set. Delayed by the fun they were having, but finally on the move, I got into position. The temperature had settled for the day, leaving just a few clouds, despite it being the Colorado monsoon season. After a short, sweaty hike through a brambly path, she reached me. I can't recall the exact words I used, but I know they elicited a "yes." Only a few details remain, but know there was a surprise party afterward.