Cold pizza and sandwiches on the ridge. Although the hike is not long - 4 miles roundtrip - this is the farthest our little hiking group has ever gone.

Even though we aren't that far in, I am exhausted.

The first third went quickly racing over roots and rocks. The boys fought about who would lead and squeezed through the narrowest bits side by side. Energy surged, crashed and surged again. Our job is to manage these waves and the mood swings that come with them. Often times this means being the ballast, riding the wave right to it's crest while keeping your balance.

"I think we're right here and trying to get there"

"Think that we're about halfway or close?"

The tiny blue dot on my phone danced around the cracked screen. Somewhere in those trees was the trail, and somewhere on the trail was us. We could see the beginning and the end, the parking lot and the clearing at the top. Where we were and how far along, who really knew?

"Probably anywhere from 1000 feet to a mile - what do you think?"

"We've come this far, might as well just finish"

I love my bike commute for many reasons, but one of my favorites is connection to the seasons. 

Days blend together, but weeks tend to be distinct. A cold snap makes my toes go numb. Rain comes, it comes in bunches and I have to get used to walking into the office with wet pants. Pleasant weather, I slow down, I let my legs go at their own pace. I drift down the trail. Look at the clouds, lights on the lake, the leaves changing colors.

On the hottest days - I stay as late as I possibly can on rooftops, parks, patios, and beaches. Anywhere I can lay lazy in the sun. Everywhere with a view. When it gets dark I race down the trail, letting my body soak in the first cool breezes of the night. Trying to make the lights on the trail blur into one long line.

A practice of intentionality. Taking a daily commute and make it something more. Alone for a hour and a half. Separate myself from everyone - everything. Look at faraway things and listen to the sounds around me. Weave the meditative aspects I've found on trails into daily life.

We finally break through the tree line. The boys rampage back and forth across the hill, daring each other who will get closer to the edge. Mt Rainier sits clearly in the distance. The sun is out and nothing really matters. Fall is too short and days like this are too few.

Written listening to this.