When Time Runs Backwards

Anyone who has lost a loved one knows what it’s like to count backwards; Three days have passed since we last spoke. Nearly two months have passed since I last saw you. I laughed at your dark, depressing joke at the beginning of January. It’s like grief causes time to run backwards.

We collect moments in time as if remembering them will change our trajectory. And reminiscing about the happy moments gives you reason to believe that the time you spent together was beautiful. And yet, we think about things we could’ve said or done differently. Did I do everything I could do? Did they know how much I love them?

Even when parting isn’t a surprise, it still feels incomplete, like we’re walking around with our shoes untied. Life. Love. Laughter. They’re fragile things. We live every day as if they’ll never run out, but they always do.

Time in the Backcountry

When I first moved out to Colorado, I’d drive around aimlessly, knowing that adventure would find me. It’s the kind of place that meets you half way. Do you need a way to scrape yourself off of the ground? Here’s a nice rock. Has your ego grown larger than your abilities? The mountains will shrink it back down to a normal size.

Mountains impact time in a fierce and unwavering way.  At first, you don’t recognize what’s happening. You might feel the snow crunching beneath your feet, entirely tuned into yourself, your breath and the mountain landscape.

But time has paused — slowed between sips of air.

When you realize that you’re above tree-line and surrounded by thunderstorms, you think: “Oh shit. I’m gonna get struck by lightning.” And time speeds with your heart rate.

One of the things that I love about this place is that it’s unforgivable, restless and seemingly cruel. But it is what it is. The mountains are mountains. They don’t waver with indecision if an adventurer decides to hate them. They’re unchangeable and proud in nature. And sometimes I wish I was more like that — relentless and unforgiving.

The End of Time

When I release my ego and the need to be right, what’s left?

Do I have time to construct a more fortunate ending?

How do we learn to live with the things that occurred over time?

And if time is a human construct, why measure anything at all?

I made a list of reminders for myself while I was climbing a mountain this weekend:

1. Let’s be real. I’m going to keep falling. So, I should learn how to self-arrest.
2. Choose safer routes. All you can do is reduce the risks.
3. Keep moving.
4. Remember that passes are dangerous but short.
5. Channel your inner Gandalf. Balrogs are just bullies.