I finally put my feet up for the evening and notice a tingle in my heels that seems to be creeping all the way up to the tips of my toes. Then I think back on the miles those feet have put on today. Good miles. Really good miles.
First, there was the three-mile bike ride, toddler in tow, riding with the breeze in her hair – passenger of the bike trailer. She reminded me that I need to avoid the puddles, “Mom it’s raining on my legs and on my cheeks.” Whoops!!! I guess I forgot about the water kicked up by my spinning back tire.
Next, there was the four-mile walk and talk with my soul sister. We need to chat more. It is the kind of conversation that leaves you feeling full and inspired. I miss her so. These were very rich miles, needed miles, refueling miles, smiling miles.
The next miles, another three, came in the form of a second bike ride, the afternoon family bike ride with my husband, and two daughters, again me towing the toddler. I really need to move the trailer to my husband’s bike. These miles were ones of pride, “Dad, I’ve already gone this far today. I don’t need your boost. I can do it myself,” were the words of my five year old to my husband as he tries to assist her up the large hill.
My final miles of the day ended up being the final mile, singular. I wanted to get in a quick jog before getting supper going. Rose, my five-year old, wanted to ride alongside on her bike. All was going well until the wind picked up and suddenly her skin isn’t so tough. “I’m cold, mamma. Can we turn back?” I encourage her to keep going, but it was no use. The shivers set in and alas, we headed back home just shortly after we began our jaunt.
It is in these miles that my heart is fullest and my being is most alive. So many memories are made in these miles, miles every bit worth the tingle in my heels and the tips of my toes.