I thought I would take a brisk after-supper walk to the mailbox one night. I gave myself 10 minutes to get there and back, as I thought the extra push to move a little faster would maximize the effects of those 10 minutes.
I started out at a healthy pace. I crossed the street and thought I would jog as long as I could. Then I held out just a little bit longer. I set a goal to push myself just a little harder. I was feeling uncomfortable so I slowed down to a brisk walk.
I stopped running just short of my goal. A handful of steps after I stopped running, I hit an icy patch that was disguised by a light dusting of snow.
I went down. Hard. I didn't get up for a few seconds. The wind was knocked out of me and my letters flew out of my hands and into the snow around me. When I got up, I knew something was going to hurt later on. I wasn't sure if it would be my hand or my shoulder.
I kept walking, eventually brushed the snow off and made it to the mailbox. Mission accomplished. Then I turned around and made my way home.
I decided to jog just a little (I was still trying to get home within my 10-minute time frame). But I was pretty careful around any patches of snow that could be hiding another icy patch. I never did push myself as hard as I did before I went down.
The icy patches of life. We don't see them coming and wham! We are down for the count. If we are lucky we can get right back up on our feet, brush ourselves off and carry on. Other times, we may get up a little slower and have a bruise, a sprain or broken bone. Any time we can pick up and forge onward, we are blessed. What if you hit that patch and you couldn't get back up?
The last time I went for a long walk, the sidewalks were treacherous. You could see the ice. You could feel it with every step. I didn't fall. But I didn't enjoy the walk either. I didn't take note of the world around me because I was too focused on the icy conditions.
You can't go through life fearful of that which you don't see. You miss too much when you are worried about the hidden perils beneath your feet.
You can tread carefully, dress for the weather and enjoy the walk despite the conditions. But you must keep walking. Be mindful of the weather, but enjoy your stroll through life.
That is where I went wrong the other day. I should have left the house five minutes earlier and simply savoured the mild winter conditions and the lightly falling snow. I should have enjoyed the world around me instead of racing through the moment.
In all likelihood, I still would have hit that patch of ice. But I wouldn't have come home and wondered when I would start breathing normally again. The influx of heart activity plus breathing in cold, winter air was a shock to my system. Once my lungs thawed out, my breathing returned to normal. My shoulder was a little stiff the next morning, but that's pretty minor in the whole scheme of things.
This little tumble made me appreciate those who trek down these streets in the line of duty — paper, flyer and mail carriers — those who must rely on their own two feet to get them where they need to go in a day and kids who walk that route to school.
There is so much to be enjoyed as we walk through the streets of our lives. We cannot live in fear. We should endeavour to appreciate the small moments along the way — that which we cannot predict. It can happen to anyone, at any time. Nothing in life is guaranteed. But what kind of life would we live if we were fearful of that which we cannot see?
