I’ve been sprinting for so long that I nearly ran past the summit.
As I ran up this first and daunting mountain of accomplishment it was impossible for me to notice the beauty of the climb. Now that I’ve stopped for a brief moment, I'm noticing the beauty of life from the vantage point of my thirties. I wonder what those moments would look like now that I have the capacity to appreciate them. But only imagination gives us that ability. Life and time are a one-way street that can only be revisited throughout memories. Or what’s left of them.
As I look down and up the mountain range of what remains of my life I can see there is much more of my life that will be downhill if I so choose. Gravity will move me at an ever-increasing rate over time. Weeks now feel like days but an instinct tells me soon months will appear and disappear as days and so, at some point, the years will also. There’s so much left I want to do, accomplish, and become.
Staying at this plateau, as beautiful as it is, is not an option.
Pausing long enough to contemplate my next movement, charting my path, and selecting the mountain that I’ll climb I’ve noticed another variable. Pace.
Learning from my past mistakes, I’ve adjusted my pace. Although the mountains are steps, I’ll walk up and down the range of life as playful as I can to appreciate and admire the climb and when I get tired I’ll remember those who are no longer with me on this journey and press on not for myself but for them.
Climbing to the peaks requires undivided attention, grit, and perseverance. But those peaks have summits followed by valleys and in those moments you also need to hold on by clinging to gratitude, appreciation, and rest instead of accomplishment.
Until next time,