I first learned of labryinths as a child reading the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur. (But I admit I admired the clever and mysterious Ariadne more than brave Theseus.) In the past few years, I've noticed labryinths cropping up all over. They're not the Daedalus-maze types with a bloodthirsty man-bull at the center, though that would certainly be an exciting twist in a modern setting.
The contemporary labryinths are usually the open, unicursal (single-path) kind, where a ball of thread is not necessary to find one's way out. Many reproduce the intricate twists and turns of the labryinth at Chartres Cathedral, but the smaller ones tend to be of a simpler classical design.
To my knowledge, Fort Collins has five labryinths. Two are associated with churches, two with healing centers, and this one, that my sons and I discovered in December covered with a fresh layer of snow, is behind a city government building.
I'm not a particular devotee of labryinths, but I will stop and walk one whenever I get the chance. Doing so slows me down and encourages me to proceed purposefully--if only temporarily--instead of pelting through the world at my normal spastic pace.