Time is not on my side (unless I use it wisely)

Festina watches_700

It's been almost sixty days since I last wrote something for this blog. Amazing. I can't account for the time. I remember writing the last post then getting distracted with the re-writing of my novel then typing in the edits then procrastinating the last few scenes I need to add and edit then second-guessing the story. And suddenly, I look back at my blog and the last post was dated almost sixty days ago.

Time is currency. You spend it to increase the value of your lifetime (the value to yourself, your experience as a human being, and the current state of the Universe).

When I was young, my perspective on a lifetime was different than it is now. A lifetime was this expanse too wide to comprehend; a desert or ocean of seemingly uncrossable distance that revealed nothing of what existed on the other side. I saw time as a limitless resource.

I saw the date of my last blog post and realized that some percentage of my life had passed and what I had to show for that gap in time didn't add up.

When I was young, I was forward-focused. I was happiest imagining what was to come. I remember being seventeen and about to graduate high school and looking at a calendar and seeing the change of a millennium ahead. I knew that when we entered the new century, I would be thirty-two years old. An adult. Mature. As old as my mother was when I first took notice of her age. The age of a fully-grown person at the peak of realizing their promise. The millennium was a flag in the distance, a marker of the future, an oasis that I imagined was surrounded by what I wanted my mature, adult life to be.

Today, I know that time is not limitless. I know that we live in an hourglass. Time is a mountain of sand we live on the top of. Every day, more of it falls away. Every day, we sink further to the bottom. One day, we'll have nothing left to stand on and this existence, the one I know as 'Stephen the writer' comes to an end.

The millennium is as far behind us now as it was ahead of e when I was seventeen. I can see the far side of the expanse and know that my arrival there is inevitable. I have still yet to accomplish one of the goals I used to imagine I would have accomplished by now. Watching another two months slip by without anything to show for that time makes me sad. And angry. But neither of those emotions can sit at my computer and produce words that could march me towards my goals so I will have to set them aside and get back on the path.

Onward forward.

PS: The picture above is from the 2012 Tour de France. Talk about looking back and celebrating the experience you accumulate during a lifetime. I have been a fan of professional cycling for as long as I have been an adult. I've worked in the cycling industry for more than ten years, many of those years connected to websites and magazines that cover the sport. Yet 2012 was the first chance I had to visit the Tour. My friend Paul was turning 50 and put a trip together with five friends to ride some of the most storied Tour de France terrain. One day, the Tour passed right by the small village where our bed and breakfast was located. An hour before the race passes by, there is a caravan of promotional vehicles, pimped-out rolling billboards staffed with smiling young marketers tossing trinkets and sweets. My friends and I parked ourselves on an empty stretch of road, spaced fifty feet apart, and collected a travel bag full of swag. The photo is of the Festina watch company's caravan vehicle. I can't remember what they threw out. It wasn't a watch. It was an amazing ten days. This was a wonderful moment.

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