40 miles of trails, all dirt. Two wheels, no engine (except my legs). Huge vistas. Gold autumn leaves. Blue sky. Home to green chili stew, a Myrcenary microbrew, my dawgs and cats and the love of my life. A perfect day. So grateful.
I left this comment: "This sounds like pretttty much my perfect day."
Then I thought: uh, I think. That would be enjoyable, right? Or is that just something I used to like and now I like something else? What do I like?
Yup, it's official: I don't even know what a perfect day is anymore. I count a weekend good if I:
- Clean all the things;
- Get a good long run in and sling some dirt and branches around in the back;
- Spend some quality one-on-one time with the kids; and/or
- Do something. Like: take the kids to a new park, go for a hike, go camping/skiing, etc.
|For example, this past weekend we did this. Enjoyable? Yes. Life-affirming? Hmm.|
|I used to dream about having a place to garden. Now I have it. It's nice.|
(Grass is greener. Duh.)
Well, fine. There probably is a grass-is-greener element. Maybe if I were living a life in which I could see a beautiful fall day and decide to hit the trails for a 40-mile bike ride, I would be thinking wistfully of Life with a Family or Life with Affordable Health Insurance/ 401k/ steady paycheck that didn't require hustle. Or maybe I would be living my dream life. I really don't know. (I'm pretty sure I would miss having the kids, despite all their whining and meMEme-ness and preferred habitat: suburban big city-ness. The steady paycheck, though. Hmm. If I could have "paycheck," hold the "steady"--well.)
|I really would miss this guy. Most of the time.|
|He appreciates it, though. You can really tell.|