“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,” Lao Tzu

This quote is one of those quotes that many people use over and over applying to any number of different circumstances.  In different forms inadvertently replacing some words but attempting to hold on to the spirit of the quote.  It’s a quote many use when they are embarking on a new life challenge, that first step outside of the confines of the hospital carrying a newborn baby.  Sometimes when deciding to make the first step into rehab, or into a gym.  The idea of isolating a giant task into on isolated motion can remove much of the fear of failure. 

I find myself meditating on this quote not in reference to starting something new, but in relation to picking myself up off the ground when I’m lost somewhere in the journey.  Recently I was 20 miles deep on a 40 mile bike ride and it wasn’t the last mile or two that were the most difficult, it was picking myself up off the grass in the hot sun and clipping my shoes back into the pedals and making that first push to start again.  Life’s interesting like that sometimes we carry on with an unseen momentum that just seems to push the pace.  Then other times we are pushing against an invisible wall, we’ve come too far to turn back, yet we have no line of sight to see the finish.  We know not the terrain ahead nor exactly how many steps are needed to complete. 

The journey with Max is an unknown, yesterday morning I woke up after a few hours of broken sleep only to be jolted back to reality when Max was running a temp with blood coming out of his ear.  The journey absent of momentum required more steps, heavy weighted steps. 

I am a man who has learned to never underestimate the emergency room, after having many a plan thwarted I have a great deal of respect for every step I take in those halls.  I’ve sat in the mass produced commercial chairs exhausted wondering if I had the strength for another step, wondering if I have the internal fortitude to take the next step.  I think back to an old Indiana Jones movie when the path to his destination seemed impossible, but with some quick thinking our hero throws some dirt and pebbles out onto an invisible bridge!  Crazy how it always worked out for Jones, without fail he always knew when to bob and when to weave, when to spin to duck.  It’s almost like it was scripted.  Wait, let’s get back to the bridge, taking the first step onto an invisible bridge would be pretty breathtaking I suppose.  Not like the thick engineered see through floors that we walk across with faith in modern technology.  This was in the middle of a cave with some relic of a map, this was legit invisible bridge.  Sometimes in our own way these are the steps we are forced to take. 

A while back I found myself mountain biking on a trail that had not been touched by anyone in what seemed like years.  First it was not a mountain bike trail at all, it was a series of snowmobile trails hiking trails and an old washed out service road.  At one point the river I was riding parallel to had crested over the side and washed out large sections of the trail.  This was not the type of trail I had become accustomed to, I have come to expect my mountain bike trails groomed, hard packed and cleared of debris.  I realized while descending down a steep downhill with my breaks locked and my feet desperately seeking stability on the side of a soft hill peering over a 30 to 40 foot drop into the Pine River that in fact I really liked my mountain biking packaged and safe, domesticated if you will.  Just like I like my life, predictable and domesticated, I don’t mind risks as long as I can determine the level of risk and oh as long as nothing will happen.  I no longer live in cruise control much like the trip to the hospital on the morning of the 4th of July life with Max is neither safe nor domesticated.  The moment I seem to lose focus on my surroundings, the journey, or forget that it’s as hard and as simple as taking one step the journey ensures I am brought back into line.