Mileposts in the Distance – In and Out, Back and Forth, Round and Round

by Stacey on January 26, 2012

Note from Stacey: Every Thursday we’re thrilled to offer Laura’s Mileposts in the Distance column. You can read more about Laura below.

Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate. – J. R. R. Tolkien

The business of getting from one place to another is completely different from the business of movement.  In the 2011 Autumn of Car Travel, I used the same roads over and over, north to south and then back.  There was very little in the way of choice, other than picking the roads that offered the least traffic.

Currently, I am in the business of movement and as I strive for my daily 10,000 steps, I get to choose the routes that fit a day’s time frame or weather or my own particular mood.

When I drive for business, the main part of the journey is spent on I-95 with its roaring eight lanes of vehicles vying to beat the traffic or make good time getting where they need to go.  The next longest road is I-85, the tree-lined route that brings me through northeastern North Carolina lake country up to Petersburg, Virginia.  The former is a grind and passing every exit without hitting traffic is a triumph.  The latter is pretend bucolic – you may only see trees, but there is no meandering unless you want to be run down by an 18-wheel rig.

By far my favorite stretches were from Loudoun County (Virginia) to Washington County (Maryland).  The last 45 miles north (or the first 45 heading home) went from horse and wine country over the rugged shores of the Potomac into the gentle rolling green hills western Maryland.   Yes, there were school buses that interfered with the flow of traffic.  And drivers sincerely uninterested in maintaining a pace anywhere near the posted speed, but those minor annoyances were more than offset by the views.  There was always something to see whether it was mists playing over the trees in the early morning.  Or a setting sun could send shadows of grays and peach and pink playing over fields.  Or vineyards sleeping in the winter.

I saw sunsets mainly on the way north and sunrise on the way south and each and every time I was surprised by something new just around the corner, but I was always so conscious of the final destination that the surprise was taken in at a glimpse, not a stare.

But this business of movement has brought many different surprises.  My walking routes are usually loops that start and stop in the same place.  Some days I make a right when I hit the sidewalk, some days I make a left.  But every day I follow the path as it curves around the neighborhood or the river.  And no matter what, I may walk the same distance, but the trip is never the same.

One way a curve in the river is obscured by a tangle of old forest growth, but if I turn around in that very spot where the view ahead seems obscured, from the new angle the view is open and the flowing water is framed by the branches. In one direction, the winter trees seem to gang up on the sides of the path leaving very little room for any other growth, in the other, the trees are spaced differently, allowing for grassy paths to merge along the side of the main paved walk.

Always the same, always different.

The weather these days has been a little gloomier than the start of this year.  Saturday, I walked while it was raining, but the canopy of trees kept the drops from really hitting the ground with any real intent.  On Sunday though, the rain was really mist and it was an insidious thing, creeping in and around the trees to settle on every surface it could find.

Unlike driving, nothing you see on a walk is glimpsed – everything unfolds as you approach and pass.  But if I turned immediately around to re-experience the view, it would be gone, replaced by something new, yet very much the same.

What I take away from these walks is this:  Savor what’s in front of you.  Drink it in.  Relish the feel of the air and the sky and the sun.  And then let it go because the next step will bring something even better.

Laura Reeth lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with the man of her dreams. With kids off at college, she no longer plays the role of active, day-to-day parent, and has moved into the complex understanding-parent-of-nearly-adult-children role. The main difference is she gets more sleep now.

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{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }

StaceyNo Gravatar January 26, 2012 at 9:39 am

The last two paragraphs blew me away with their insight. The willingness to stay open to the present moment is a rare gift. Thanks so much for reminding us of it!!

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LauraNo Gravatar January 26, 2012 at 5:02 pm

You are welcome. :)

Laura

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Mary Ellen RousseauNo Gravatar January 31, 2012 at 2:28 pm

Stacey, I ran into your blog and remembered you. It looks like you are really onto something. My daughter had her first baby, a terrible experience followed by problems with nursing. She’s recovered physically but the experience is not forgotten. The midwife was good but hospital was the opposite of baby and mommy friendly.
Good luck with your new business. Mary Ellen

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StaceyNo Gravatar January 31, 2012 at 3:09 pm

Hi Mary Ellen!

Of course I remember you! I’m so sorry that hospital policies caused your daughter to have a terrible experience when she had her baby!! I completely understand your anger and frustration given that you’ve devoted your career to training midwives and creating a hospital experience that is VERY baby and mommy friendly. I wish you and your daughter and new grandchild all the best!! Thanks so much for your kind wishes!

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MaryNo Gravatar January 26, 2012 at 12:10 pm

Breathe it in and let it go…best advice EVER! Something new is always on the way. Thanks Laura. Gentle reminder for the day/week/month ahead.

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LauraNo Gravatar January 26, 2012 at 5:02 pm

Mary,

I always feel a little tricked when the something new isn’t exactly what I want it to be. Sooner or later, the reasons unroll before me. But I always hate that wait.

L

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