In Search of Perspective
In the last three days, I have worked a total of 38 hours. True story.
And so, after hour 38 when I stumbled out of my office at 4:00 crying "Uncle!" I knew I needed to find my perspective. And I knew just where to look. Somehow, my perspective always seems to be on the far shore of a lake, or at the top of Sage Hills.
I feel fortunate to know exactly where to look. However, I do have to admit that I wish my perspective were somewhere a bit more convenient, like my bed. Or maybe even the sofa. Or perhaps at the bottom of a glass of wine.
Because it's only April 2 and far too cold to cross a lake, I laced up my shoes, grabbed my trusty trail running partner (FatPearl) and headed out to find what I had clearly lost over the last 38 hours.
This is FatPearl and while she is incredibly loyal and always up for an adventure, she does cut corners on the trail. And she gloats when she's ahead of me. She's kind of a brat like that. (Author's note: Her real name is Pearl. And she's a very sweet dog. But like her momma, she tends to pack a few extra pounds in the "off season," hence the name.)
It was cold and windy and it felt as though distance had been added to the trail system that I have come to know like the back of my hand. But without fail, there it was. My perspective, waiting for me.
And suddenly, the 248 emails I downloaded on Monday and had yet to fully wade through, and the 18-hour day I put in yesterday, and the never-ending stream of meeting requests didn't seem like such a big deal. Because when you're standing near the top of a very large hill that you've just conquered, it's not. And it's that simple.
So tomorrow will be a very new day. One full of hope and promise, rather than anxiety and sleep deprivation. And I have a public trail system created by visionaries before me, some budding wildflowers, and one dog to thank for it.