Timekeepers

Timekeepers.  Last weekend was the end of daylight savings.  Clocks turned back one hour.  The one and only 25 hour day of the year.  Before clocks and calendars, foregone human civilizations used the position of the sun to measure days, the lunar cycle to measure months and the seasons to measure years.  When we were babies, time as we now know it didn’t exist.  We slept when tired.  Ate when hungry.  And cried when physically uncomfortable.  Animals also have no concept of time.  Unconcerned by how old they are.  Simply always in the now.  Humans are the only beings on this planet who measure and worry about time.  By the time we’re young adults, teenagers even, we’ve pretty much become slaves to it.  Constantly looking at our clocks and calendars.  Rushing around to meetings and appointments.  Setting alarms to make sure we stay on track.  Deadlines.  Expiry dates.  Such a crazy way to live.  No wonder so many are exhausted and unhappy.  If only I had more time.  It always seems to be the answer to so many questions.  I’m not sure what time I left the house.  Nothing to be done.  Nowhere to be.  My route decided as I was pedaling.  A temporary taste of timelessness.  One of the things that I cherish most as I get older are days without timekeeping.  Even if we need clocks in order to be able to function in this world, happiness is definitely enhanced whenever we give ourselves even mini vacations from being timekeepers.

 

Two Decades

There are moments in life when time literally stops.  Pivotal points in our timeline where there’s a distinct before and a distinct after.  Unable to go back.  Life as we once knew it forever changed.  Twenty years ago today, our family clock paused for what seemed like an eternity.  The words that came out of our pediatrician’s mouth forever etched in my distraught brain.  Crystal clear and so very blurry all at the same time.  Not unlike a very bad dream.  Type 1 Diabetes.  Insulin therapy for life.  Or until a cure is found.  I didn’t take the news very well.  Even if on the outside it looked like I did.  I didn’t cry.  So many emotions.  Frozen solid.  Overwhelmed by this groundless feeling.  Intense anger over infinite sadness.  In this surreal standstill, my fight instinct immediately kicked in.  Flight wasn’t an option.  The father in me desperately trying to rescue my beloved two year old baby daughter from this imminent aggressor.  The bike racer in me literally sprinting against this uninvited chronic life-threatening condition.  I didn’t sleep.  For years.  I just kept stomping on these pedals and attacking relentlessly.  Truly believing that I could beat it.  My entire existence consumed by these numbers.  My sole mission to fix this.  During my first breakdown in 2015, my doctor told me that I’d lasted longer than she thought I would.  The endurance athlete in me at the time taking it as a compliment.  Not realizing that all I had accomplished was bury myself in a much deeper hole.  I did some damage.  To my body.  To my psyche.  No doubt about it.  Maybe twenty years is long enough to be holding my breath in denial.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Sit up.  Soft pedal.  And enjoy the rest of the ride.  This will all be over soon.