Hurtling Along

Sunday, October 2nd, 2022. 44 years old.

Periodically, including in the middle of sleeping last night, my mind rushes me into thoughts I’d rather not rush into.

Like, I graduated from high school 25.5 years ago. 25 years from now, G-d willing, I would be 69 years old.

That’s the kinda thing that blows the mind.

More and more, I’m feeling there truly no time to waste. I’m keeping all options open with work contract: internal transfer to another location, or an outright move to another school in August of next year. Hearing the siren song of Japan, as difficult as it may be to get hired there. Brunei is becoming a new option after a new colleague was telling me last night about how nice their home there was.

We are living the China Dream here—-Diamond passes to Shanghai Disneyland, an extension of our home; Fortunate Vegan Cafe in the French Concession; great colleagues and running friends; wonderful family connections; I could go on and on.

But it’s those quiet times at night that wake me. 44. I want to—need to—finish this screenplay. I need to publish that novel I had the great opportunity to write while unemployed last year and living with Mom. I need to run another fast marathon.

I refuse to let go. I’m 15 in mind and spirit, with my physical body not a whole heck of a ways behind, with great thanks (much as I almost admit falling a step or two behind, I’m still convinced I can recover distance speed, even if my fastest 5ks are behind me [or, are they?])

How much is really enough? Should I be content already having lived in China a total of 3.5 years? Traveling to so many hot spots & incredible locations in China, East Asia, Africa?

With traveling, I’m never content. Like running, there’s always another “race,” another location.

Truly, 44 feels like the new 34. Honestly, it does.

In the shadows at 03:18am, I may awaken with a feeling of hurtling through life too quickly, but perhaps this is a good thing. A way to keep me motivated, on point, inspired to not let up.

No need to get let the anxieties become stress, I must remind myself. But take the anxieties and make them into fuel for the next adventure.

That adventure now begins as we sit in aisle 53, aboard our Juneyao Air flight from Shanghai to Xishuangbanaa, 215 miles from the Laos border.

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