Coast and Enjoy the View: Slowing the Pace of Our Lives

Lately it seems as though life is speeding by. I was warned this would happen as I got older, but it seemed to occur almost at random. Right around the time my third child was born, years seemed like months. He’s about to turn four and I find myself genuinely shocked by how fast it all has gone. It’s hard to believe that almost exactly a year ago my husband lost his job. It has made it easier to endure hard things, this accelerated sense of time. When I think about events or milestones I’m looking forward to in a year or two, it doesn’t seem so long from now.

But it makes it harder to grab on to today and savor, because those tender moments seem to slip through my fingers. Things I’m sure I’ll get around to, important conversations or unique experiences, seem to become delayed so easily and before I know it, it’s been a year or two or sometimes too late altogether.

I remember when I ran my first 5K (just to clarify, I’ve only run two of them), I was afraid to run too fast because I didn’t want to run out of energy. I ran with two other runners, one who was our coach and much better than we were. He gave up the opportunity for a personal best to talk us through each hill, and when we thought we couldn’t keep going. His philosophy is that you tell stories to each other to help pass the time and distract from the pain of running.

I think parenting is kind of like this. On the long painful stretches, we tell stories to pass the time. We remind ourselves of the happy memories of the past, and believe that there is more coming in the future. We share with friends, and drink in the words of hope from parents further a long the trail.

There is a technique in running when you sprint downhill, getting the free help from gravity improve your time. While I never liked that in running, I find that I lean towards it in life. Downhill times, when things are going smoothly with few problems should be the times to coast, to lean in and enjoy my kids. Instead I tend to turn them into times of high efficiency when I can get as much done as possible because there is the time and energy when life isn’t a crisis a minute.

When I ran the race, I coasted down hills, and took it as an opportunity to rest and regain strength. I need to do the same with my family. During the days, months (or in rare cases years) when things are going smoothly, I want to use that time to build relationships, building a closeness that will sustain us during the hard times.

I think there is a fear that if we live slowly, we’ll miss out. Since none of us knows for sure the length of our days, there can be a frenzied quality to our lives. I know that’s how I feel often and yet I also know it’s not how I aspire to live. I want the margin, I want to coast downhill and enjoy the view. I want to have enough breath to turn to the runners to my right and left, and tell them stories.  But I must deliberately set aside good and worthy things, and even trim away things I love to create that openness, that gentle space that lets me engage with joy and rest peacefully.