Two years ago, Jesse couldn't run a mile. Yesterday she ran 13.1 miles; her first, (and according to her) probably her last half marathon.
She did great! "I ran every step of the way, Mom," she said.
I, on the other hand, was a wreck. I don't know why I was so nervous. It's not like she was hanging off the edge of a cliff. She was running. And she's thirty, not three. Still, I was holding my breath until we spotted her coming down the trail; tired but smiling. It's a Mom-thing...
Life is one foot in front of the other. Sometimes we're running, or even leaping, but usually it's one foot, then the other and often includes circling, backtracking, spiraling. It's definitely not a clear, straight line. It's not a race to the finish line, even though some days it takes on that strange quality of hurry up and get where you're supposed to be going.
Last week I was in a meeting where a woman said,
"I just gotta say that this is not a marathon. Everyone is on their own path. We all get to do life at our own pace. So, give yourself a break. That's all I wanted to say."
Here's to doing life at your own pace.
And to Jesse...
always my inspiration.