It just hit me.
I've been back two months. I'm not traveling. I'm finding adventure in every day life - but how I miss traveling.
I dived right back in. Work's been insane, but I mostly like my job so that's fine. I've been running a lot. Dances with Dirt 50 Miler. Febapple 50k. Umstead 100. Training runs, races, Van Cortlandt Park, Rockefeller, and especially my beloved Bear Mountain. Friends. Drinks. Errands. So busy.
And what did I learn on my trip after all? Do I still have it? Where are my friends, still traveling? I know some of them I'll reconnect with soon, stay connected to...But where is that spirit I truly embodied? Thinking of running through the streets of Belize, my heart full of promise...dancing like a sprite, fueled by rum...laughing across the beaches of Panama...long days of surfing, followed by hammock naps and skyfulls of stars...and beaches full of starfish and quiet sand and tanned bodies...Christmas after a long muddy hike full of conversation about love and waves and our dreams...
What's next? I don't want all my travels to involve running. I don't know what's next. I don't know where's next. I just want there to be more. This is not enough.
Everyday life is not enough.
"I'm addicted to the chase of my happiness - happiness is fine but it's momentary - a momentary relapse of reality - Reality is fine, for the moment, it can wait, I'm addicted to the chase of my happiness." --Illy, "It Can Wait"