122,731 Hours
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life
- Seasons of Love, Rent
It’s the eve of the Boston marathon and for the first time in many years, I will not be cheering the runners on from the sidelines of the marathon due to the fact I just started my new job two weeks ago. Priorities. I have the Boston Athletic Association app downloaded to keep track of the six (SIX!?!?!) people I know who will be running tomorrow. I also hope to sneak glimpses of the marathon on TV or online throughout the day. I wish I could explain the joy that viewing a marathon brings me but Kathrine Switzer said it best: “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”
How do you measure, measure a year?
It’s also the eve of another five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of me not drinking, one minute at a time, and all those minutes added up to another 365 days. I don’t talk about this a lot and I always hesitate to mention it and yet always choose to do so at this time of year, not for me but for anyone else out there who may be struggling or questioning. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. One you don’t train for - - not in any way that’s healthy anyway. Stumbling across the starting line without even knowing that you are beginning and yet, begin you do. The route is not clear but if you’re lucky, you’ll have people who love you cheering you along from the sidelines. And you will meet others who are on the course with you. Some you’re ahead of and others you’re behind and some who drop out and DNF. You feel bad for those people but you have your own race to run.
In inches, in miles
You stay the course. In spite of yourself or maybe because of yourself. Because if you’re really honest with yourself and resist any temptation to re-invent the past, you remember all that you left behind and know that you don’t want to return to it and return to it you will. It awaits you. You know the good that has risen up to meet you. So, another year has brought you to a total of 14 and there’s no finish line in sight. And you remain grateful. After all, they point out, a grateful heart never drinks. Forward. I’m reminded of a quote by Mary Schmich: “The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Maybe I’ll see you out there? And maybe I won’t. But if you find yourself entering the race, look for me. We can do it. Together. One step at a time.
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life
- Seasons of Love, Rent
It’s the eve of the Boston marathon and for the first time in many years, I will not be cheering the runners on from the sidelines of the marathon due to the fact I just started my new job two weeks ago. Priorities. I have the Boston Athletic Association app downloaded to keep track of the six (SIX!?!?!) people I know who will be running tomorrow. I also hope to sneak glimpses of the marathon on TV or online throughout the day. I wish I could explain the joy that viewing a marathon brings me but Kathrine Switzer said it best: “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”
How do you measure, measure a year?
It’s also the eve of another five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of me not drinking, one minute at a time, and all those minutes added up to another 365 days. I don’t talk about this a lot and I always hesitate to mention it and yet always choose to do so at this time of year, not for me but for anyone else out there who may be struggling or questioning. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. One you don’t train for - - not in any way that’s healthy anyway. Stumbling across the starting line without even knowing that you are beginning and yet, begin you do. The route is not clear but if you’re lucky, you’ll have people who love you cheering you along from the sidelines. And you will meet others who are on the course with you. Some you’re ahead of and others you’re behind and some who drop out and DNF. You feel bad for those people but you have your own race to run.
In inches, in miles
You stay the course. In spite of yourself or maybe because of yourself. Because if you’re really honest with yourself and resist any temptation to re-invent the past, you remember all that you left behind and know that you don’t want to return to it and return to it you will. It awaits you. You know the good that has risen up to meet you. So, another year has brought you to a total of 14 and there’s no finish line in sight. And you remain grateful. After all, they point out, a grateful heart never drinks. Forward. I’m reminded of a quote by Mary Schmich: “The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Maybe I’ll see you out there? And maybe I won’t. But if you find yourself entering the race, look for me. We can do it. Together. One step at a time.
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife