Everything was going great, and our plans were shaping out just as I had expected.

Then we got to Carolina Beach State Park.

We parked down by the marina and found a trailhead nearby. The sign read, “Sugarloaf Trail - 1 mi”.

As I read these, I got goosebumps as an overwhelming sense of accomplishment ran through me. 

I’ve since run 100 miles in under 24 hours. We’ve traveled to many different places with our camper, and always seem to have a new adventure on the calendar to look forward to. And I was promoted at my company a few months back.

Let’s start with the good. I’ve been sober from alcohol for two years and seven months now, my work-life balance is better than it’s ever been, and I’m more involved in my daughter’s life than I could have ever imagined. I can’t express enough gratitude for these gifts—I’m very lucky.

Pretend that you are floating around on your boat, and the boat represents the journey of life you are currently on. And on this boat, you have a finite amount of fish bait that both whales and minnows love. You don’t know how much bait you have, but you do know that you’re going to run out eventually if you keep feeding all these fish.

I recently listened to a podcast between Dylan Bowman and Yassine Diboun—two ultrarunners that I respect and draw inspiration from—and they recalled a 100-mile race they participated in years ago. They both laughed as they talked about how a few of the frontrunners, themselves included, were saying mid-race that they’d never do another 100 again.

Sure, it's ok to mindlessly unplug every once in a while to refresh our brains. And a little mental junk food is alright when it's not cutting into priorities.

But where do we draw the line, and what is the tradeoff?

That’s just how sacred time ought to be. Amazing, yet fleeting.

I recently finished reading Atomic Habits by James Clear, and it has me dissecting my habits and how they complement or detract from my use of my sacred time. What habits are good and that I can build upon, and which are squandering the time that I work so hard to carve out for myself? 

An ongoing document of quotes that I’ve jotted down whenever they’ve impacted me:

Whether you spend five minutes or two hours a day, consistency is key. Always.

Start where you are, figure out the process you can adopt and commit to, and find ways to enjoy your journey towards whatever outcome excites you—even if you won’t achieve it immediately.

But just because two things aren’t cohesive on the exterior doesn’t mean that we can’t apply transferrable lessons from one to the other.

Take ultrarunning and the many benefits I’ve gained from this practice and sport. If I think about all that I’ve learned from my time on the roads and trails, three stand out because of their application to parenthood:

Just because you addressed your fear and insecurity one time doesn’t mean that your work is finished, and you can check a box. It will come back, and you will find yourself where you were. So it’s a good idea to subject yourself to your fears often to build the strongest foundation that you can. That way, when something frightful comes your way, you are better prepared to handle it.

I’ve avoided structure, in running, writing, or anything I’ve dictated as a hobby because I told myself I didn’t want to rob these activities of the joy I initially was experiencing. But, when you spend so much time dedicated to certain activities, they can become more than just hobbies, especially if you treat them that way.