Buying Time

Time and Money. 

Both of them of great worth and singly hot commodities these days.  Folks are vying for one or the other at every turn in the road. 

“Volunteer for this…”

“Donate to that…”

The curious thing that I have noticed, however, is rarely do they walk hand-in-hand.  Do you know what I mean by that? 

It is not often we possess both time and money in abundance, simultaneously.  More often than not, when we find ourselves in seasons of having extra time on our hands, we tend to have less money in our pockets.  Conversely, when we find ourselves in seasons of having extra money in our pockets, we tend to have less time on our hands.

Now I realize that is not a hard and fast rule.  And I suppose there are a number of factors that may prove it right or wrong for you.  Yet, as I ponder back over the years of Weeda family life and love, it has seemed to be the case for us. 

During most of those early years of married life Amy and I eked by from month to month, her grabbing substitute teaching jobs or office admin stuff or staying home with the kids and me working campus jobs between classes or construction labor.  Throughout those years we found lots of extra time to linger long together – take daily walks, play games into the evening, take drives mid-week, explore new places, read books – but we didn’t find much extra money lying around.  

Well, seasons pass and as Amy and I have grown in our respective professions; teaching and pastoring, and as our family has grown, we find we have had extra money from month to month…   

Now hold that thought.  You know I am not suggesting we’re rolling in it right now, don’t you?  You did catch our respective professions?  Rather, what I am saying is, where early on we were able simply to cover the essentials of day to day, month to month living, now we are able to cover the essentials, as well as enjoy a few things some may deem non-essential. 

Perhaps another way to consider it might be we’re in a season of keeping the cupboards stocked with food, while also being able to enjoy a meal out a couple times a month.  That’s all.    

…but we find we haven’t had much extra time to stake claim to and linger long together in.  And I’ve missed that, and so has Amy. 

At this point, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not imagining forsaking this season of life, or any other season of life, for that season of bygone years and extra time.  Honestly, you may be hard pressed to find two more thankful folks for all the seasons of life and love we have been blessed with together; the lean and the plenty, the scarce and the abundant.  But when I ponder, sometimes my soul is flooded with nostalgia.  

So, last spring sometime I got to remembering the sweetness of that season wherein we had the extra time to just hang out and sit together or walk and talk about any and all stream-of-consciousness type stuff that comes up. 

Well that all got me thinking about the potential of buying time; placing time and money hand-in-hand.  I wondered to myself if there was some way to use a bit of these extra dollars and insure some quality time with my wife; get back for a season to those early years of doing something we love with someone we love.  Then it hit me!

I mentioned above, among the things we’d spend some of that extra time doing was walking together.  We used to love taking walks…

In Everson we’d walk from our fringe apartment down the highway, over the bridge, and to the park just west of town.  Or we’d walk the other way past the sketchy apartments, around the bends in the road to the elementary school.  (Ask us about the piles of galvanized buckets or the corn eating neighbor or the murder house we’d walk by.) 

When we moved to Portland we’d walk from our little abode around campus, or through Montavilla Park or Mt. Tabor Park or Laurelhurst Park, or down SE 55^th St. to Division St. for a Blizzard treat at the 50 year old Dairy Queen store. 

 

When we moved to Blaine, now with a couple kiddo’s, we’d walk to the local playground or the “Vigil” statue in downtown or the kids’ favorite, though also the farthest away, was our walk to “the whales;” a bulky pod of Orca statues, each in varying postures of breaching, where the kids would climb and laugh and fall and cry. 

When we moved to Birch Bay we’d walk all the winding narrow roads and long beaches of the Village where we lived.  Every road connected to another road, which led to a park, where a road would connect to another road, which led to a beach.  Around and around we would go sometimes, for full hours at a time.        

But then it began to taper off.  With kids in school and sports and increasing responsibilities at church and subbing opportunities in the district…  Well, walking together slipped down the ladder of priorities.  So I thought to myself last spring, we need to get back to walking again. 

But how would I insure the time and space to be together; walk together and talk together, and not have it fade after mere days or a week or more?

That’s it!  I thought.  Amy’s birthday hits on June 11, just before we head into summer break when the pace eases up a bit.  What if I gave her the gift of a commitment; a challenge even, that taps into our mutual competitive nature, something we both could rise to and work toward together, and the work would require us to be together?  What if I gave her the gift of time…together!  The gift of entrance into a half-marathon!

Now before you make assumption upon me, you need to know I’m not a marathon type of guy.  Amy, on the other hand, has walked a few half-marathons in recent years with friends of hers and she has loved the race as much as the training.  The destination has been as meaningful as the journey for her.  And she has thrived within the accountability of a training schedule, and I was thinking I could too.  

The training walks leading up to the race would insure the time and space we both hope for, to do what we’d both been missing.  The race itself would touch that competitive nature in us and would be tons of fun to be part of.  And the whole deal would span the breadth of our summer vacation time. 

So…I did it.  For Amy’s birthday I bought her some time together with me, walking and talking…together.  I signed us up for the Bellingham Bay Half-marathon.

I was so giddy I gave it to her a month early.  She was surprised by it for sure.  She’s a pretty good guesser of gifts, but I’m pretty confident she didn’t guess this one.  And she was thankful for what it would mean for us in the months to come. 

Days later we took a short overnight trip together and on our way to the hotel we stopped and did some shopping.  If we were going to do this together, we were going to do it right.  So we bought matching walking shoes!

Amy printed off a training schedule and we got started just after her birthday.  It was everything we had hoped it would be.   2 to 4 mile walks around the neighborhood.  6 to 8 mile walks to the beach and up the hill and back again.  10+ mile walks around ALL OVER THE PLACE.  And all of them ample time and space to be together.

Of course the weeks did not pass without trials and setbacks.  There was disabling foot pain and summer cold bugs and heavy smoke in the air from nearby forest fires that prevented us from walking for full weeks at a time.  But we pressed on.

As we walked decisions were made, conflicts were hashed out, frustrations vented, and resolve was set.  As we walked dreams were dreamt, vision was cast, goals were set, and plans were made.  Laughing, whispering, waving, smiling, greeting, silence…  All while we walked together. 

Last dry moment

And then finally the day arrived:  Sunday, September 30^th, 2018. 

13.1 miles of concrete, asphalt, and crushed rock trail ways stretched out before us. 

We were ready. 

Poncho People at the start

It was raining when we woke up.  We knew it was coming.  We watched the weather reports all week long.  And there was only a slim chance of it letting up anytime during the race.  Amy suggested we start the race in disposable ponchos and shed them somewhere down the route once we were warmed up.  So there we stood at the back of the pack draped in our brightly colored ponchos on the starting line to the culmination of the gift of time. 

Evidently, as these things go, the crowd of restless bodies all jostling for position when the gun goes off sweeps you into a sort of jog-walk thing at the beginning.  So we ran to get started, for the first quarter mile or so.  From then on my mantra became, “I’ll do whatever you want,” when to walk and when to run.

Poncho People at the finish

The miles turned over faster than we had imagined and faster than we had trained.  Our pace was steady and encouraging.  We’d walk at a good brisk clip.  Then when we came to a hill we would jog to press through.  And we let gravity set the pace on downhill slopes. 

The rain did not let up from start to finish.  In fact it drove hard and heavy at various turns in the road.  The ponchos became the most brilliant idea of the day and we kept them on the whole time.  A dry core made all the difference for these novices keeping a mileage pace of 13.5 to 14 minutes on average.  Onlookers cheered us on…

“The Poncho People.” 

“Best idea we’ve seen yet!” 

“You look like sunshine!”

We did not talk as much as we did during our training walks.  Partly it is hard to invest in genuine conversation when you are always around people.  Partly we were dialed in and focused on the course, which took more concentration than I imagined – lifted sidewalks, crumbling curbs, pooled water, muddy paths. 

“Watch out…” 

“On your left…”

“How’s your foot…”

That was the gist of our conversation for nearly 3 hours. 

Then it was time.  Folks along the route were whooping and hollering.  We were just blocks away from the finish line. 

“Ready to run.”

Amy’s voice was determined and worn.  It was not a question.  She knew the course and how far out we were.  We kicked it up, around a corner, down a hill, around a corner, through the narrow lane that is the west end of Railroad Ave.  The final stretch was lined with folks who were fans of whoever was coming next.  Their faces were a blur.  The finish line was crystal clear.  The gift of time together would culminate in mere seconds. 

My mind flashed back over the previous four months.  What a journey it had been.  How thankful I was as we strode swiftly toward those medals held out to finishers.

“Take my hand?”

That one was a question, though obviously rhetorical.  Time and money may rarely walk hand-in-hand, but Amy and I will…and did, right across the finish line together.