Bonus post: Everyday Rainbows
Less-than-epic, not-so-badass achievements and pleasures
It’s back-to-school season and thus feels like fall. The tops of some aspens already are yellowing. This morning, I head to the high school for my first day this school year of substitute teaching, covering for social studies and Spanish classes. I’ll need to have “filler” handy in case the teacher doesn’t leave a lesson plan with enough stuff for the 50-minute period.
My filler will be to ask the students to describe one of the best or most memorable things they did this summer. And if we still have time to kill, I’ll ask about any good books they read or movies they watched.
When I ask myself to answer that prompt, my mind flashes back to get-aways, like the weekend Morgan and I explored Lake City and Crested Butte when I ran the San Juan Solstice 50, or the weekend we car-camped and climbed a peak in the morning.
Why can’t being at home or running errands in town feel as special and memorable? I recall the visitors we had this summer—such as my daughter’s boyfriend, or my niece’s fiancé—who had never been to this area before, and how fun it felt to show them around and see our home and the region through their eyes. It makes me challenge myself to savor more aspects of daily life.
Instead of only remembering the get-aways, therefore, I’ll try to remember and appreciate more deeply all the times I walked across our pasture—unusually green and damp this summer, thanks to heavy monsoon storms—to catch our two horses, and the feeling of “I got this!” while swinging my leg up one of the horse’s sides to mount and ride him bareback to the barn while leading the other, a relationship built on trust because I had minimal control with only a halter around the nose instead of a bridle with a bit.
I’ll remember looking at the blue sky and feeling relief and gratitude that not a trace of wildfire smoke tarnished it. Or the books I read with our cat curled in my lap and a mug of coffee at my side, cultivating a habit of reading first thing in the morning for at least 15 minutes, which often stretches to 30. Or all the dinners I cooked with Morgan, and how we savored something as simple as a caprese salad with particularly good mozzarella, sliced heirloom tomato, and fresh basil. Or the time last month when I unearthed my little-used Better Homes & Gardens New Baking Book (received as a wedding present in 1990) to remember how to make a berry cobbler, and the satisfaction of serving something so seasonal, traditional, and delicious to some dinner party guests.
I’m challenging myself and you to reflect on and appreciate the everyday, not just the get-aways, in part because I read something poignant from my sister-in-law on Facebook three days ago. Her husband, who’s my husband’s younger brother, died of cancer last year, and he was a year younger than I. She wrote, “Today would have been our 25th wedding anniversary … and what I miss most is just sitting on the couch watching a show together.”
As runners and mountain lovers, it’s easy to get caught up in planning and executing adventures that qualify as “epic” or “badass.” Those adventures usually are memorable, but they make up just a fraction of our ordinary lives. Why don’t we remember and celebrate simple everyday pleasures too?