It was this bowl of oatmeal that reminded me that it’s time to Slow. Down.
On Sunday, while listening to Joel Osteen on DVR in the background, I watched the steam slowly rise from my bowl of oatmeal. The coffee cup beside it was equally warm and steamy.
I was mesmerized.
…by the slow steam rising.
…the comfort of this scene playing out.
…of how slow and joy-filled that moment was.
And I almost missed it.
If I hadn’t been in a state of disconnection this weekend, I am sure I would’ve missed the signs, the cues, the signals. From my body. From my inner-most thoughts. From my surroundings.
It’s time to slow down.
To stop trying to be everything to everyone all the time.
To stop striving for perfection, of never-missed beats.
To cut myself a little slack.
As Scott so eloquently put it — “this past month our lives have been on fast-forward. I’m tired. We’re tired.”
And he’s absolutely right. I have been so caught up in my (relatively new) job and making an impact, of becoming a barre n9ne instructor and learning to be the best instructor that I can be, of running increasingly longer distances in preparation for the half marathon, of secretly aiming for the elusive 100-mile month, of continually pushing my body, my mind, my spirit, my life to the limits — jamming as much into my days, every single day.
I’ve lost that edge-of-the-ledge glee that makes living my best life now so wonderful.
I’ve been going too fast.
I need to slow down.
This weekend of disconnection proved that to me.
On Saturday, the day was filled with activity — but not rush-rush-rush activity like normal. We opted for a 5-miler on Saturday vs. the previously-planned 9-miler (weather was yucko). I met a friend for a pedi before she left for a 3-week work trip. I visited family in our hometown, a hometown that’s only 20 minutes away yet we never seem to “have time” to visit. I got some much-needed snuggle time with Isabel. Who at one point looked up at me from our perch on the floor, put her face so close to mine I could feel her breath on my face, and she looked at me with glee and said “Hi!!” and giggled so freely, so joyfully, so beautifully. I melted.
…yet, I never snapped a single photo from our visit that day. I didn’t want to interrupt our moment with technology.
And then Saturday night rolled around. Our date night out to that favorite wine bar I mentioned. We lingered. For hours. Over every single course of our meal. We ordered dessert. And a nightcap. And slowed down. Way, way down.
On Sunday. The rescheduled 9-miler was looming. Then the “oatmeal moment” happened. Wheels started slowly turning. I suddenly thought to myself “do I even want to run this half marathon anymore?” And that’s when I ultimately knew, for me to question something that I love to do so much? I need to slow down. No – I need to stop. Stop it all. Embrace a Sunday filled with un-routine. I had hit my breaking point. Tears rolling down my cheeks and a quick hug from Scott and I knew. No 9-miler. No nothing.
Just a long, slow, peaceful Sunday. On the road to a wee bit of a slower day, week, month, ahead.
…I can still live that best life right now. It just doesn’t have to be quite so fast all the time. I know this now.