The Marathon

You know that feeling where your stomach is in knots because of stress, worry or whatever? I’ve got it. Only the majority of my stress these days is behind me, and I am not plagued by worry. I simply feel worn out. Worn down.

I can’t travel like I used to; I feel 86, not 36. Exhaustion doesn’t go away with one solid night of sleep — it lingers for a week or two. I’m full of Zs, and last night I tried to picture my life five years from now. Ten years from now. More Zs on the horizon.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not complaining. I just wish I wore out less easily. I wish I could run the marathon that others seem to run more swiftly than I.

When one is full, there’s an abundance of food. When one has a messy home, that means there’s shelter. When one has wrinkled or stained attire, there’s clothing. And when one is weary from work, it means there’s a job to go to each day, a sense of purpose, income and an energetic buzz to my everyday that I don’t take for granted. For all of this, I am thankful. I am grateful.

Tonight, though slow and ready to curl up and hibernate — for a year — I realize that both the haves and the have nots will forever have things that make us all take pause and evaluate our lives. But how fortunate we are that our exhaustion comes from having much and wanting for very little in the grand scheme of things.

How fortunate we are to have a marathon before us.

And how fortunate we are to be able to run at our own pace.

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