“Do you know how long it’s been since I got to sit and do this?” - an old friend, on his unremarkable front lawn, in an unremarkable chair, on an unremarkable night, drinking an unremarkable beer, two weeks ago.
I found it remarkable.
A note on the word ‘remarkable,’ as you might infer either a negative or positive connotation. You might even take it to mean something close to ‘surprising.’ I tend to use the word ‘remarkable,’ and do so here, in its most literal sense. A definition akin to “worth noting.”
The reason it was worth noting is that moments like that are so valuable. Sitting. Relishing. Noticing. I knew that. And he knew that. From long before the last time I saw him, seven or so years ago, he’s been one of the most present people I know. Yet even he hadn’t been able to slow down and grab a moment. To bathe in one single portion of time.
Everyone has their reasons. He has two young, precocious daughters. Many of you have life-consuming jobs or children of your own. Others say things like “my pets are my children.” My pets are not my children. Dogs are easy. I can leave them home alone. What comes with me are my goals. They are my job. I carry their weight - and it’s mostly a good weight - wherever I go. Any time I have a free moment, they tug at me. “I need attention. Don’t forget about me.” They are my children.
And I’m caught between feeding them constantly or letting them blossom as they may. I’m grateful for them.
I stopped at this old friend’s house on my way back from a multiweek trip to my favorite place, the Sierra. It was a vacation - and really it’s been a year - that became an experiment in time.
For as much as I love Yosemite (and I hope to seek publication with a different piece about this), it has largely been in glimpses. Reservations are hard to come by. I’ve soaked in the splendor but typically only for a day or two at a time. The bottom-line goal for this trip was to BE THERE. We would be in the park for a week and nearby for a few days more. This time was to be filled with overnights, modest climbs, and trails runs in the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.
Not so fast. That pesky ankle, though it held up well, prevented me from turning loose. Forced me to slow down. Drove me toward that unremarkable chair on that unremarkable lawn. And showed me exactly what I needed to see.
“The world is big, and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”
—John Muir
I’ve loved this quote for years. Considered tattooing it on my body. And I feel that until just now, I have misunderstood it completely.
See, I have been using it as justification to never stop. To go as many places as I can go. Do as many things as I can do. Our time here is finite, and I have always been acutely aware of that. I used this attitude to cram in as many things as possible (experiences, challenges, art) as efficiently as I could. But that’s not at all what it says.
A good look. Not a plane ride. Not a sprint. Not an “optimal training stack geared toward multifaceted time maximization.” A good look.
A good look is slow. It’s contemplative. It’s consuming and alive but quiet and restorative. We look at things all day long without thinking much of it. But a good look, that takes intention. The intention to do the looking.
For many years, I have hid behind the idea that I am purposefully not taking part in the rat race. I’ve carved out a pretty nice life for myself that doesn’t fit into pretty boxes. But a lot of what I’ve done has been creating my own version of that rat race. Churning, churning. Never stopping. Goals in three different time frames and four different sports. Falling back, then grinding harder to make up for lost time. Sidestepping traditional pitfalls and landing directly in a trap of my own creation.
This, I think, is the core underlying cause of the mental fatigue I’ve gone through in the past year. It all simply became too MUCH. Nothing particularly heavy or unbearable. Just a critical mass. And I believe it is why, even with how much I loved this trip, by the end I was ready to get home and back to basics.
It was an attempt to grab hold of time and stuff it full of life, which despite our best efforts, is not possible. Multitasking, in ways both big and small, does not multiply time. Rather it divides quality. You (I) end up doing many things poorly instead of one thing fully. Some removing is in order. No need to fret, the newsletter will go on but will perhaps take a new form, more akin to its intended origin. More on that next week.
I'm currently working through the process of finding the flotsam - the removable clutter. Prioritizing. It’s time to trim the fat and streamline. And if you find yourself in a similar situation, I hope I make the cut.
OH! And if you actually opened this looking for a trip report, here’s the highlight reel version.
An uneventful drive followed by two day climbing and hiking near June Lakes. Definitely an area where I could see myself spending more time.
Two one-night backpacking trips in the park, spaced by a perfect campsite at Tamarack Flat, a quick summit trip up Mount Hoffman, and plenty of time relaxing by Tenaya Lake, seen here surrounded by granite…
Quite a bit of downtime in the valley, after being thrashed by our second overnight up to the rim. Good slow down time, but the overcrowding of these parks was never more evident.
A paddle down the Merced River in Yosemite Valley - maybe highlight #1, if only it could’ve been a bit longer.
A rejuvenating AirBnB in South Lake Tahoe, surrounded by more developed chaos than I would’ve preferred. Some minor bouldering and hiking in the area.
The aforementioned drive to an old friend’s home in Colorado, broken up by a much-needed ridge adventure in Salt Lake City. Staggeringly beautiful.
I don’t typically enjoy or make blanket statements, but everyone should experience the Sierra sometime in their life. The scale never ceases to amaze.
Stay tuned, people.
Weekly Choss:
As a (better written) companion to my piece above, here is something I needed to read that came from a newsletter I subscribe to. Passing it along to you here. We behave as if everything we do has the same time cost, but prioritizing the things that give us life can actually result in more time and energy for everything else.
While we were away, Courtney Dauwalter fulfilled this NYT piece about her and wrapped up the greatest ultrarunning season of all-time by winning Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc and completing an epic triple crown. There are a million other profiles and pieces about her, if you’re interested. She’s a badass, plain and simple.
Today’s nominee for bestest dog in the whole world is Scout, who escaped from his shelter multiple times to reside at the nursing home across the street. So they decided to adopt him there, and if that doesn’t just make your heart melt, idk what to tell you.
The Sandlot rules, and so does this article reminiscing and sharing some stories about The Sandlot. Think I might go watch The Sandlot now.
Just after writing this post, with all these thoughts fresh in my mind, I fired up a guided meditation that punched me with a perfect mantra of sorts. “Living in the past is living with depression. Living in the future is living with anxiety. Living in the present is living with peace.”