Thanks to David Litt and his fabulous memoir about his time as a speechwriter in the White House, I couldn’t get those words out of my head today. It also so happened that today was one of those days I had plenty of time to think. It makes for an interesting combination (and to everyone on the Bean/Bear Lake trail today wondering who I was talking to, I’m not crazy. Just processing yet another mid-life crisis out loud).
It was fall peak on the Superior Hiking Trail, hence my paid hiking gig. I hit a trail that’s “moderately challenging” after torrential rain. While I’m not qualified to write technical trail terms, I’d say “moderately challenging” went to “muddy nightmare and potential leg breaker for an out of shape mom with an injured back” within a quarter mile of my car. A wiser and younger version of myself would have turned around. I didn’t. Hence, these shots.
I finished off the trail (and a pair of really nice Brooks running shoes) muddy and smelly but happy. I did it. Last time I hit this trail I was pre-kid and 20-pounds lighter, still actively backpacking on the weekends with a 45- pound back on my back. I must say, sipping my single serve Moscato (which actually holds three glasses) from the Grand Marais Municipal Liquor store listening to the sounds of Lake Superior just footsteps away from my room for the evening is a much better deal. But, either way I did it.
Anyways, I learned a few things on the trail today. And, it goes something like this.
How’s the whole hopey changey thing going for you Probst?
Pretty dam good if I may say so myself. Sure, I have my ups and downs—but as the eye candy (aka hiker) on the trail told me today, “it gets pretty muddy up ahead. Best to just embrace it.”
Embrace it? Seems a bit extreme. But, similar to the muck on the trail, I’m finding ways to endure and manage it. Can we say new shoes?
Next year I turn 40—time to roll out the existential crisis carpet. Add to this, we’ve booked our first family vacation that involves Jake flying the friendly skies. Steve and I celebrate our ten-year anniversary. Jake starts kindergarten. I’ll finally have my MBA in rural healthcare. Our library expansion project will be done. I’m buying a new car. Plus, given my inability to process milestones without some sort of unequivocal piece of nonsense, I’m sure I’ll complete some sort of stretch goal race that’ll leave me achy and sore for days and provide countless social media posts about the misery called training. But, whatever the challenge, I’m confident that I’ll end upright and after my injury last month, that’s a huge win for me.
These incredible highs will be coupled with the lows of an aging father. Countless trips to Cloquet. Praying to a God I don’t even know exists, in hopes for a miracle that won’t happen. Questioning my inner strength and whether I’m good enough. Does he know how much I love him? Do I make him proud? Does he know how much of me is a direct reflection of him? (Just ask Steve about me reading grocery store ads out loud). At times, it is too much. But somehow I endure. We all do, right? Watching friends and colleagues endure incredible heartbreak, I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have more time. And, at the end of the day, isn’t that what we all want? Just one more day. One more hour. One more minute.
I was fortunate that I didn’t know anyone who died in this past week’s tragedy in Las Vegas. But, it was a brutal reminder that our time here is finite. This doesn’t mean I won’t squander precious minutes watching This is Us or drinking wine with friends. But, it did make me pause. Take stock of what and who matters. To look at what I’m doing, and, why. And the truth is, despite my occasional ability to anticipate problems that don’t even exist, I’m finding that deep down, I’m all hopey changey inside. I still believe I can and will make a difference in the world. And, that’s pretty awesome.
I hope for the few folks still reading this, you recognize you’re probably doing the same if not better. Don’t ever lose sight of that. Because this hopey changey gal believes we all deserve to make our mark.