Catch the moment

It’s important to be reminded of some of the simpler things in life. My great revelation this week was the astounding ability of our own feet. I did an 8 mile trail run with a friend. In 8 miles we covered mountains, creeks, stood above the clouds, dropped into the chill of a ravine, ran down twisty, pine-needle carpeted paths and hiked up rocky, stair-stepped ledges. In 8 simple miles we ran this broad spectrum of landscape. We started from low in the forest, under the canopy of green oaks that made it so dark I thought it must barely be dawn, only to break through the cover at the very top of a crest on the Appalachian Trail where the sun was blinding and clear. We descended a gradual, soft pine needle track that was a perfect gradient and I honestly thought for a split second I might be flying.

I couldn’t believe my two feet carried me all those places. I am so grateful to God for creating such beauty and for packing it into 8 miles. I am so grateful for my feet and my body for letting me see it all.

Two days later I raced a sprint triathlon and was again reminded of the simpler things. Like not taking advantage of the gifts your body has given you. I set off on the bike and my muscles were still burning from my run 48 hours before. I could barely turn the pedals. It was a good and humbling reminder of our limitations as humans. As my feet cramped up in my bike shoes I thought Yes, you’re right. We did an amazing thing on Friday – now I’m asking too much of you.

I shouldn’t have done the race, I signed up on a whim to get another score on the board for the Kinetic Cup Series. But I’m glad I did. I’m glad I had the reminder that rest and recovery is just as important as an endurance effort. I’m glad I got to see where my limits are, in a way that was not catastrophic or dangerous but gentle.

Summer has been so good. You may have noticed I’m not posting regularly on Fridays, honestly, it’s because we’ve been fully immersed. Not in busyness or a schedule, not in activities, but in slowness. We’ve been all-in on every moment. The good ones and the bad. The bickering, the sibling squabbles that become embraces and laughter. The games that we don’t really know the rules to but the littlest one makes them up and we’re all okay following along. The boy who doesn’t have the patience or the tolerance for anything his little sister says; then a minute later is picking her Popsicle off the ground and telling her it’s not worth crying about she can have his. He rolls his eyes but he still comes over to tighten her goggle straps “one more time, puhleeze!”

It’s the oldest who can’t stop bossing anybody around long enough to even know what game they’re playing so she heads inside in a huff but comes out ten minutes later with sandwiches made for everybody. Suddenly they’re acting out a safari park with their animal crackers and the veggie straws are the fences and I can’t bring myself to yell at anybody for sticking wet hands in the chip bowl.

It’s incomprehensible how they change and it makes me think of those 8 miles because it’s only been 8 or 5 or a handful of years and we’ve seen such a spectrum of landscapes within them. It’s that moment of indecision, when someone wants to dive into the pool but maybe it will be cold or maybe it’s scary and “hey mom I just have one more question, if you and dad hadn’t gotten married would I still exist as a person somewhere? Would my soul be out here in someone else?”

So we stop. We catch that moment. We talk about it. We talk about creation and uniqueness.

And at night there’s still dirty socks all over the floor. There’s laundry in the dryer. There’s dishes in the sink even though I just asked everyone to look around and gather them all up and I just started the dishwasher.

And it won’t last forever. But it will last in this moment, for a little longer, until we’re on to the next landscape which will be just as beautiful and just as hard but just as unique.

As an aside, we may feel like humanity is deteriorating but I witnessed this in an intersection outside of Sam’s Club. I’d say as long as the world is still a place that “Makes Way for [Goslings]” then we’re doing pretty alright in my book.