Life can feel stuck in constant acceleration, each year speeding by faster than the last. I’m older, greyer, fatter, balder, crankier and more haggard by the day. It’s hard to believe I moved from Colorado a year and a half ago and easy to wonder where the time went.
But that perception exposes a choice we control.
It’s worth reminding ourselves to take a breath and enjoy the little moments. Collect them. When we’re old, grey and as wrinkled as discarded paper lunch bags they will reflect the stories behind our eyes more than any mirror.
Many of my favorite stories come climbing with the amazing people I’m privileged to call friends. Those instances occur not just pushing a runout or bearing down at a crux, but in the untied times. Grilling out on summer nights with a cold beer numbing wasted fingers, reliving the day with laughs and astonishment at what the human experience offers those willing to relish it. Brick red dried blood crusted over dirty ankles suggesting the embellished tales just might hold a shred of truth between the lines.