I may have said this before, but I hate going to the gym. Lifting weights and running on a treadmill are boring, although I love the results. I love to go to practice. And I miss it when I can’t get there regularly. It’s now been nearly three years since I’ve been on a more restricted “baby” schedule, and with Sam’s arrival a week ago, that hiatus has just been renewed. And I’m strangely okay with that.
Don’t get me wrong: I want to practice more and I have been in the past few years and that has been the major motivation for lifting and running. I don’t want to return, pushing fifty with an extra fifty around my waist. Still, this enforced hiatus is good for me because of two things: 1) I’m getting more inventive about finding more ways to practice within my limited schedule and 2) I appreciated the time I had especially during my 30’s.
During my 30’s I had a period of about seven or eight years where I practiced a lot. Not just multiple times a week, but sometimes multiple times a day. I traveled to practice with people around Japan, Hawaii, and the Northeast including several trips to Montreal. This was the period of my life where I could do this and not worry about family commitments and other responsibilities. I was lucky to have this period and my hiatus has shown me just how lucky. Not everyone gets that chance. There are a lot of lessons about personal limits, perseverance, discipline, love, and commitment that I learned during those times. I’m only hoping that I will be able to pass these lessons on to Maya and Sam when the time comes.