Life happens

I follow this blog called Spaces of Gratitude which is written by this lady accounting her life's experiences and eloquently assigning meaning to them with hopes to inspire her readers and nonetheless, vent. Venting always feels nice. (I started following her because she wrote this inspiring piece about why she started doing triathlons)

Her latest post titled "The Bucket List" ended with a lesson that we should learn to embrace the things in life that aren't necessarily planned, and that there's always a positive that can be taken from any adverse situation. 

There was one particular sentence that resonated with me...

What I wanted to tell her, is that there is a happy life on the other side…that each year will get easier until it becomes a part of your past that you wouldn’t want changed because of the person you become because of it. 

I've been through a lot of crap, whether it's because I occasionally live recklessly or because merely, life happens. Whatever the case, what makes this statement so good is because it is true. Simply put, and we hear it all the time, live with no regrets and shame; accept all of life's moments and understand it's there to only make you a better person than you were before. So, I do. 

And we wonder, how do people know such things? Again, it's life; experiences. Some times living boldly costs us, but I'd rather have it that way than living average.

An ironman

No, not what I've been bragging about the past few weeks. This is actually someone you should really model yourself after.

Dick Bavetta. After 39 years of ref'ing in the NBA, he's retiring. That's 2,635 games… consecutively. Yes, he didn't miss a game. Since 1975 folks. He's 74 years old.

Let me put it in another perspective, he ran up and down the court with elite athletes for 48 minutes a game, up until 74 years of age. (I ref'd some intramural games back in college, and to be able to attempt to make accurate calls while running up and down a court, it's not easy. And I was only 19.) I believe I heard he ran about 6 miles most mornings, wherever he was–at the hotel, at the airport, on vacation– for his own good.

Sometimes we get complacent, lazy–whatever you want to call it–with our work, with our spare time, with our body, with our loved ones... settling and not realizing we could be living better.

Thanks Dick. (and I'm not being sarcastic)