According to my Fitbit, if I keep up this pace, by Christmas of this year, I will log enough miles to circumnavigate the moon on foot. It seems like all I ever do really is work out and go to work, and sometimes I know that's not very newsworthy. It's become almost an obsession to get as many steps as possible or burn a certain number of calories each day. Even on Sunday I "only" burn 3300kcal or so. I'm driven because I have feedback and because it gives me a goal every day that I can accomplish, for which I am the driving force, and for which I and I alone am responsible. Despite no longer receiving an incentive from the state, I stick to it, and I use the feedback to gauge whether I can relax in the evening. One huge benefit from all this walking is that I'm acclimated to the weather outside. I no longer feel like it's that arduous to walk a mile when it's 105F outside.
We are expected to walk and walk and walk and walk. Last Sunday, even though it's not a holiday commemorated anywhere outside of Utah, they decided to invite sermons on pioneers and their faith. One of the speakers reminded us of the fact that the journey was long. I didn't realize that they made 10-15 miles a day. I guess that makes sense since you're moving families and cattle and wagons across terrain where there was narry more than an animal trail. They were going somewhere where few ever went before. I've seen trails in the mountains like that. They are steep and narrow and treacherous, and so you're lucky to make a slower pace. I also found it interesting that I managed to make most days at least 12 miles worth of steps. It took them MONTHS to get from the Mississippi to the west. It may take me a lot longer to get to my destination. However, sitting down or turning back won't get me there. I am expected to walk and walk and walk and walk. I am expected to move forward and make progress and get closer daily, however meager the progress may seem. It's trudging. It's slow. The only way to get there is to take that first step and then keep taking more.
Most of life is routine. Despite the pleasant pictures plastered across Facebook and similar media, adulthood consists of responsibilities and duty. There are bills to pay, chores to do, a job to work, and the minutia of living to attend. When I read Dickens or study Rome, I remind myself that for most people, including people in most of the modern world, the biggest concern is not what outfit to wear, car to buy, or party to attend but how to feed my family today. It's not glamourous. It's our duty. It's the business of life to sustain life. So what if I get up, work out, read scriptures, go to work, and walk my errands afterward every day, day in and day out? At least I can do those things. I'm not worried about what I'll eat, and those other things have to be done somehow by someone. I don't always have to be entertained, and I enjoy my own company, so doing things I like every day, every weekend, and every summer makes for a life I lived on purpose and with purpose.
We are what we decide to do. So much happens to us that is not of our making because so many other people are out there doing what they feel like to break up the routine of responsibility. Sometimes we like to blame things on others, but ultimately we own what we become. A king may command a man, and a parent may demand action of a son. In the end however the keeping of that man's soul is his and his alone. He cannot say someone else made him do it or that virtue was inconvenient at the time. Often the only things we control in a situation are our attitude about it and what we choose to do as a consequence. I feel guilty that I was so angry for a year after I was divorced, but that's perfectly normal. I'm over it now and on to better things, and things really have improved since then. There is only one thing about my life I would change, and only for someone really special. Maybe things are not exactly what I would like, and maybe what I decide daily doesn't lead directly to what I claim I desire, but it does lead to a purpose-filled life, and I think I'll feel good mostly about how I spent my time, talents, and money when I stand before the judgement bar.
Aristotle wrote: "We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence is then not an act but a habit." Sure, we may make missteps on our journey, be tempted to cut trail or be misled onto the wrong ones. Our footing may falter, and we may stumble. Eventually every man needs Christ. The journey begins with many small steps, as many as you can, as far forward as you can, and the victory is in seeing it through to the end. You are what you REPEATEDLY do. I have made mistakes. You can see them here, and maybe you can feel the bitterness and anguish in my soul. We do not have to hang for a moment or two or ten because Christ already did hang for a moment. The Refiner's Fire seems very hot, and sometimes it seems overwhelming. Many people who come to Vegas can hardly believe the sweltering blaze that greets you outside the climatized halls. However, I no longer notice. I have walked and walked and walked so much that it's routine, that it's become easier, because my capacity to achieve increased while my reliance on creature comforts contracts. I feel like this is a blessing, an achievement, and I feel good about it. Sure, I know I must continue to walk, but many days it doesn't seem so bad. When it does, I take those walking moments to commune with my Maker, and afterwards I feel better, even if for a moment, especially on days when He gives me pennies.
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