The COVID-19 crisis devastated the economy, frightened much of the world and, through Thursday, killed 112,967 Americans.

The crisis also simplified most American lives. This simplification came at great cost, but the transformation brought rewards along with agony.

I had far fewer distractions, which forced me to look for fresh pursuits. My prime pursuit over the past three months became a quest to better understand my adopted city.

On many mornings and afternoons, I explored open space in Colorado Springs. Ours is a city that offers places to escape, take a deep breath, gasp at tremendous beauty and savor a taste of peace and silence . . . all within city limits.

I had long been a devoted fan of Red Rock Canyon Open Space, where I have walked every foot of trail. The crisis gave me a chance to either discover or more deeply appreciate Palmer Park, Ute Valley, Bluestem Prairie, Pulpit Rock and High Chaparral with side drives to Paint Mines Interpretative Park and Mt. Herman thrown in.

The Springs is changing. We’ve moved, over the past few decades, from small city to real city, from the afterthought an hour south of Denver to Colorado’s proud Second City. Vacant prairie east of the city is being daily changed to rows of suburban housing.

I hear, often, from those who have lived for decades. They miss the Springs of yesterday. So much has been lost. A constant stream of emails arrive in my inbox with a similar message: We sold out to developers. And I understand their disappointment. Each time I drive through Denver, my hometown, I see yet another good slice from the past has been bulldozed.

Open space is where we took a stand against developers. Pulpit Rock could be filled with houses, just another Springs neighborhood. So could Ute Valley. And so could the precious Red Rock Canyon. (Donald J. Trump was briefly interested in 1997 in purchasing canyon land for development.)

Yes, there is abundant reason to complain about living here, but it’s difficult to fully focus on those reasons while exploring our vast open space.

I think of a recent Sunday afternoon spent walking through a prairie dog town at Bluestem, listening to the dogs chirp beside a reservoir.

Or of walking my dog on Rattlesnake Ridge Trail in Ute Valley Park while looking at spectacular views of Pikes Peak and wondering if rattlesnakes lurked in a rock crevice.

Or standing at the summit of 9,063-foot Mount Herman after a brisk, brief climb. I looked at a vast forest, the collegiate peaks to the west and the glimmering skyscrapers of Denver in the distance. It was a mountaintop experience, 15 miles from my home.

This spring and summer have not been the worst time of my life, and I hope this time hasn’t been the worst time of your life, but I’m thinking we will agree it has been the strangest time. No sports. No trips to the library or movie theater. For months, no sit-down meals in restaurants or community worship service. I endured weeks without seeing family and close friends in the name of safety.

That was the downside.

More free time gave me a chance to walk and calm down and consider the overwhelming beauty that surrounds us. It gave me a chance to consider the view of Pikes Peak that remains largely the same in a city that is too rapidly changing.

If you find yourself sitting around some morning or afternoon this summer while thinking there’s nothing to do, please remember you’re deceiving yourself.

There is something to do.

Grab your mask, get in your car and drive to one of our open spaces.

Take a long walk.

And find yourself.

The sun breaks through storm clouds above Ute Valley Park. Send your landscape photos to breeanna.jent@pikespeaknewspapers.com for your chance to see them in Through the Lens.

Gavin Walters

The vegetation is vast and varied at Bluestem Prairie Open Space south of Colorado Springs. Seth Boster, The Gazette