The walking and biking trails near our apartment complex provide hours of free entertainment and exercise. This week, I decided to follow the path as far as it would take me, and it turns out I can get to Highway 288 in Denton and to Swisher Rd. in Lake Dallas in less than half an hour. Who knew these winding routes led to destinations I'd yet to discover?
As a young girl, I would ride my bike all over our little town. We only had one paved street in our oilfield community, and I have vivid memories of circling the concrete driveway in front of the local post office, pretending the yellow pillars were gas dispensers for filling up our imaginary fuel tanks. My friends and I spent countless hours pumping and pedaling feet along those dusty dirt roads. My childhood is indelibly stamped with memories of traipsing up and down the school hill, zipping through Carter's Trail, and bounding across the open fields near my grandfather's small farm.
With my headphones firmly planted in my ears, I cranked up my music and set off for an hour long bike ride this afternoon. The cool spring breeze and the cloud covered sky kept me company as I floated down the pathway. The world zoomed by me, and I found myself wishing for the care-free days of my youth. Life seemed so much simpler back then.
On my return trip, I thought a lot about why the tyranny of the urgent prevents us from doing the things we love. Why does it take a break in routine to remind us of joy inducing experiences like bicycling, painting, and dancing? Play has never been my strong suit, and as I consider the things that nourish my soul, I realize these important, life-giving activities get pushed to the wayside when our worthiness is dependent on our performance. I must learn to let go of so many things in order to embrace wholeheartedness. It felt good to be a kid today.