(MOAB, UT. MY FAVORITE PLACE TO SLEEP.)
Nights are getting longer, you see. Days in the northwest are getting blacker. Time to head back to the middle so I can snuggle with him and watch the sky light itself on fire in the evening.
I'd like to take a moment to record something that can only be described as "the epicness". There's this hankering, this longing, this pulsing feeling that comes into my life every now and then that tells me I am not epic enough. As in, sure you went climbing but you didn't run it out. Or, yeah, you went snowboarding but it was inbounds. Sometimes it's hard to get a good gauge on where good old-fashioned fun ends and epicness starts. But I think that this presents a couple of interesting things, the least of which is the idea that whatever you are doing just isn't quite great enough.
I don't remember who, but someone once told me that the times comes in adulthood where you must realize that you are ordinary. Sure, special, and a shining flower and unique and all that jazz but also completely and totally normal. The opposite of epic. This is a concept that I think has struck me over the past couple of months- just how mediocre I really am at a lot of the things that I am passionate about- at least compared to the sparkling 1%.
That's what really gets me I guess. The comparison factor doesn't have a clear starting or ending point. And while you may be maxing out just by driving to the climb in bad weather, someone else may be out there soloing the damn thing while you sit in the car desperately trying to figure out if you are going to continue.
It's a game to play in your own head, without too much to gain from finding an answer. So, today, yes, I admit, I am not that freaking epic. Oh how I would love to be, just as I would love to be x, y or z in so many other things. But I am stuck right here, so I am going to damn well enjoy it.
