Last year

I like birthdays. People buy you beers and then when you walk home, you have a moment to do a bit of reflection on what’s going on in your life. The last year has been an odd one for me. In a way, it has been one of the most normal years ever. No crazy romances. No crazy breakups. No moving across the continent for a new job. No new job. Good health. Good fishing. An incredible tomato harvest. Seriously incredible.  A dozen great bike rides and a week of riding through the wild. A trip to Europe. Long weekends in the mountains.  Otto has yet to catch or attempt to catch a mouse.  A broken scooter and still no championship for Schalke. It was a really great, really normal year.

And in a way, I am super satisfied with that.

I like my life.

Flip side of that, I am not winning any “interesting life” competitions these days. When I talked to a good friend about this, she reminded me that this is sort of what normal life is supposed to be like. I am getting to be that age where you don’t completely change every aspect of your life every three years.

That’s somewhat awesome and mostly terrifying. Because all the sudden, one (me) stops pushing for the impossible and just lives the possible. The thought of not pushing hard enough terrifies me, yet I don’t have the energy, drive or reason to try the unreasonable.

I really do love my life – fishing, pro indoor recreational soccer, tomatoes, cycling, friends – you name it. I love Montana. Otto is alive. My job rocks. Other than that summer managing a group of drug dealers for a beach club in Spain (long story), teaching and learning from young minds has been the by far most gratifying professional experience of my life.

Yet there’s a part of me who is very concerned about what seems to be a creeping sense of complacency. Am I not pushing hard enough anymore? Should I be attempting anything crazy?

I don’t know.

But I’ll be curious to see what the next year brings.

Anybody else feel this way?