It isn’t how far or how fast I go up the mountain. It’s whether I get started.
I’m blessed with living on the side of a mountain. Twenty years ago I could go out my back door and hike the 22 miles up to Lake Tahoe.
Five years ago I made it to a bubbling creek about half way to the lake.
Last weekend, I climbed around 300 yards above my house. It took more effort than my 22-mile hike two decades ago. And on that sunny Sunday, I looked back and saw the beauty of the land, the beauty of the decades.
You know what? Next year, I’m still going to go out that same back door, and I’ll appreciate the view no matter how far up I get.