Counting my blessings

I fear that I am going to sound a little like a yoga teacher in this post but please bear with me. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow. 

When you reach a significant birthday, it can be all too easy to dwell on what might be missing in your life. That seems to be particularly true of turning forty.

As Nicholas Crane puts it in his own account of going for a (very) long walk, “The approach of a fortieth birthday adds momentum to any physical project. Suddenly life looks finite: you are half way there; half way to the end; your friends are balding and comparing notes on middle schools; that fleshy flange that rides over the trouser belt has become a permanent fixture; it’s too late to do the stack of things you’ve been postponing since your twenties: run a sub-three-hour marathon, change career, build a house. Forty is as good a time as any to panic.”

Yet, today, as I stood on Carlton Moor with what felt like the whole world at my feet, all I could think of was how much I have to be thankful for. 

And, it’s never too late. Ok, I won’t be running a sub-three-hour marathon any time soon (...or any marathon, ever) but I intend to continue to pack whatever time I have left with as many wonderful experiences - big and small - as possible and to do whatever I can to have a positive impact on the people and places around me.

This surge of gratitude was brought on by what has to be one of my favourite walks so far. The weather was just right, the company was convivial, the views were astounding. I didn’t even mind the three big hills that stood in the way of our destination, Clay Bank Top, after we’d stopped for coffee at Lordstones campsite and thought we were nearly there!

I did mind saying a final goodbye to Brian and Inge. I will miss my new friends but I’m sure our paths with cross again one day.

Day 13:

Walked: 32,469 steps (12 miles)

Stayed and ate: The Buck Inn, Chop Gate