When I was avidly cycling, my friends and I used to participate in double centuries. 200 miles in one stretch, filled with laughter, camaraderie, lots of food, some pain, and endurance. By the time I was riding the doubles, I’d built up strength and speed. Not Lance Armstrong speed by any stretch, but enough to hold my own. Around mile 150 of the Davis Double, on a hot – I mean, cook an egg on the pavement hot – day, we came upon a fellow cyclist. The community of cyclists participating in these rides is not immense, so it was someone we’d ridden with many times.
By my recollection, he was just over 80 years old and truckin’ along, but starting to fade. My friend decided to ride in with him and our group agreed to hang back with her. But it meant slowing way down. And it was hard! I wouldn’t have thought slowing down would have been harder than keeping up a quick pace, but to my amazement, it was. In the end, we all rode in together. I’d realized a fact that has proven true in many areas of life.
Slowing down can be trickier than keeping up the mad pace we set for ourselves. I come from a family that never slows down. Constant activity fills the day. I’m not around them all the time anymore and have slipped into a slower pace of life, but my default is to action. And while action mode gets stuff done, it lacks time for restoration.
Going into this weekend, I had grand plans to relax, to treat myself…birthday present to me. I thought about going on an adventure, wandering in and out of unique shops somewhere I hadn’t been before. Literally up until Saturday morning, that was the plan. What did I do instead? Painted my front door… and I threw repainting a cabinet for good measure… and my nails, I mean, I’m not a savage. But I was busy all.day.long. While it resulted in a sense of satisfaction (presuming my door didn’t stick to the frame overnight…pray for me) I was tired. And maybe a little light-headed from breathing paint fumes all day long.
I’d replaced rest with action when what I really needed was the restoration my front door was treated to.
I’ve talked to friends about the internal battle, rest vs. staying in motion, and we share the struggle. Although there’s a trend toward self-care, the inclination is to measure ourselves against the results we achieve. Every single one of us needs rest. And taking that time doesn’t mean we’re lazy. Our internal monologue might tell us we’re being sloths but that’s not the truth.
The challenge is grant ourselves permission to rest. To avoid filling our day with activity. If you think back to ancient times, there’s a good reason crops were given a year of rest every seven, and people were instructed to have a day of rest each week. They knew what we’ve forgotten. We need time to slow down and feel the feelings, soak in the silence, and restore our bodies and minds.
Could you, just for today, choose rest over activity? If we stop, the world will go on, and we’ll be better off for it. Tomorrow will come and chances are, we’ll jump back in. But today, rest. You need it my friends. It’s part of the journey we’re taking together. Be brave.
Who remembers the children’s book clubs that existed at the same prevalence as Columbia House records? When my children were babies, I aspired to build a vast library of books for them and joined one of the clubs where I could quickly acquire my library for a low, low price. Many of those first books were from Dr. Seuss. In fact, they were many of the same books I read as a child.
Yesterday was spent with my youngest son, Bodie, hanging out in the Bay Area. He’s 25, 26 in a few months and he towers over me…both he and his brother do. As I often do, I think back to when he was a baby, small, not tiny, but I can remember the feeling that washed over me in the first time I held him…pure love. Anyone who’s held their child for the first time likely remembers that feeling. Looking at their tiny face, a reflection of yours, and thinking there was nothing more perfect. The same feelings swelled up in me with each of my boys. They were, they are, perfect. I’ve never hesitated in loving them since that day.
It can be a bit nebulous, leadership. People often assume the title based on a role they hold. A position they’ve aspired to. The pinnacle of a career – leader of people and their charting their own course. Yet, a title alone, a position, is nothing more than that. Being named a leader doesn’t automatically bestow upon you some magical fairy dust where people fall in line behind you. A leader is infinitely more than that.
I was called selfish the other day. It’s one of the worst insults to me, honestly. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture. I’m certain each of us has the insult that cut us to the core, and that’s the one for me. It’s rolled around in my head a couple days, and I should have known from the beginning it would make it to the page.
If you’ve had children, you likely recall the phrase, “use your words.” During that stage when they’ve begun talking, but are not yet English fluent, a child will revert to the behaviors that got them what they want. They’ll use the primal techniques that they instinctively knew as infants to communicate their needs, crying being at the top of the list. They’ll point, cry…anything but speak…in an effort to get what they want. In the moment, they cannot find the words to communicate what they want or what they’re feeling.
Every 4 ½ minutes, a baby is born with a birth defect in the United States. That’s nearly 120,000 babies born with birth defects each year. In my estimation, the prevalence of birth defects in the late 1960’s when I was born was perhaps more, because maternal care was not as sophisticated as today. Though I don’t have the stats on it, the advancement of medical care through the years has also likely resulted in a decrease in the long-term effects of some birth defects.
Does anyone else enjoy an afternoon hanging out in a sub-zero movie theater when it’s 105 degrees outside in the shade? Literal fry an egg on the pavement weather. I’ll quickly jump on that train as an escape and, hopefully, to be entertained. Which I was last weekend, enjoying The Farewell.
California recently emerged from a drought that lasted 376 weeks. From December 2011 to March 2017, the state endured one of the most intense droughts in California history. The cause was attributed to a ridge of high pressure in the Pacific Ocean, named the “Ridiculously Resilient Ridge” which often barred winter storms from reaching the state. Researchers can see evidence of past droughts by analyzing tree rings, smaller during periods of drought.
My Dad has a saying he’s adopted as I’ve gotten older, “Life is not a dress rehearsal.” He encourages us to live full, engaged lives…to do our best. I remind myself of this reality on a regular basis. But it’s so easy to get tripped up along the way…sometimes I wonder if that’s what I’ve mastered…the misstep.