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This week, I went to the woods to live deliberately. (A Thoreau reference?! On a post about the outdoors?! Groundbreaking).
But, old dead, semi-fictitious writer jokes aside, this week I managed to squeeze in a solo hike – one of my favorite things that I rarely (if ever) get to do. No dog, no husband, no toddler. No (real) schedule, no obligations, nothing but exactly what I wanted to do, how I wanted to do it and a blissful 10 hours with my own thoughts, a serene alpine lake with peekaboo views of Mount Rainier.
I’ve written briefly before about how something that I wasn’t really prepared for about having kids was the loss of transition time: the extra few minutes at the beginning and end of things that give you a minute to decompress, comport yourself before moving on to the next thing. To the flavor that changes when you’re doing things with a small child, and the unpredictability of when you need to be “on”. It’s a stamina you develop quickly, but one that I have been feeling overextended on as of late.
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