A Great Adventure

When you were a kid, the world was a whole lot smaller. It looked big, but it was really small. The backyard was a country, the tree with a swing was a forest. The street where you lived was a freeway, the neighborhood was a continent. And the rest of the world might as well have been the imagination of a deranged madman writing textbooks saying he was right.

And so, back then, everything was an adventure. Your first swim was in a pool 3 feet deep. Your first bike ride was to the stop sign on the corner and back. Your first run was to meet your dog as you jumped off the schoolbus. Not really much, but to you, back then, it seemed to be all of the ocean and earth and sky and heaven, and you journeyed upon and within and through it with all the courage and fear and awe and wonder of someone facing the greatest mysteries of the greatest unknown for the very first time.

And now? All these years later?

It's still there. It never went away. The flurry of your heart, the surge of your senses, the spark in the eye and the thoughts in the mind and the spirit that rises in expectation of discovering the new. It's all still the same. The pause and then the rush that comes with the beginning of the quest into the mysterious and the unknown. The first time, every time. It's still the same.

Except now, the swim is in an ocean, the bike ride is over the earth, the run is beneath an infinite blue sky. And you see a world next to all of heaven.

It's all still the same.

Except now, you're just swimming a little longer, riding a little farther, and running a little bit more. And always, it's your great adventure.