When Will We Be There?

Trail Marker #10: Define Your There

Recently my mind has been taking me back to when I was a small boy, piled into the family station wagon with a pop-up camper in tow. Those long road trips to the campground almost always led to the same question from the back seat.

When will we be there?

That question has been rolling through my mind again in this stage of recovery.

When will I get there?

Days feel painfully slow right now. I walk at a snail’s pace, so even the walk to the kitchen for a glass of water takes time. The walk from the car into physical therapy takes time. I pause not because I want to, but because pain or tightness demands it. This is my reality in the present, far from the ability to walk miles in a day.

Right now, I am enclosed in winter. Everything I do takes intention. Standing up. Turning. Walking. Sitting back down. Nothing is automatic yet.

And yet I also know spring is getting closer. I know there will come a day when I walk up and down stairs with a normal gait. There will come a day when I do not feel jealous of people on scooters in the store. There will come a day when I do not feel embarrassed by how slow I am moving.

So I started asking myself why I asked that question as a boy, and why I am asking it now.

Am I bored with the current moment?
Am I trying to brush past the hard part as fast as I can?
Am I living in the moment, or living in the future?

Even on the trail, the same question shows up. When I reach trail markers, am I only focused on what they point toward? Or am I soaking in the environment I am walking through right now?

If my motto is Two Knees Rebuilt. One Dream Revived. A Life Rebuilt. One Step at a Time, then I need to do two things.

I need to define my there, so I know when I arrive.

And I also need a there that fits this season. Right now, there might be something as simple and powerful as walking without thinking about walking.

And I need to keep taking steps.

I mentioned this to my physical therapist and she said, you are right where you are supposed to be at this stage.

That is true.

But from hour to hour, it still can be hard.

I know there will be days on the Appalachian Trail that will be hard too. Days when it rains, when the climb feels endless, when my body hurts, when I want to be anywhere else but where I am. The trail will not always be beautiful. Sometimes it will just be work.

So, the lesson I am trying to learn right now is to weather the storms and embrace the rain. Not to spend my life wishing my way out of the current season. Not to stare nine years down the road or even three months down the road and miss what today is teaching me.

Because there is no arriving at a meaningful life without living the steps that lead there.

So let me ask you this.

Where are you rushing past or wishing away to get to your next there?
What would change if you stayed present with the step you are in?

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Two Knees Rebuilt. One Dream Revived.

A Life Rebuilt. One Step at a Time