Finding My More

You find a partner, you figure out how to support one another, and you shift and modify to make it together. It’s a fairly standard part of life. Tim and I both had careers that demanded a lot of our time. I took extra care of him on his particularly grueling call and post-call days. He shouldered more weight when I traveled for work multiple times a month.

With our respective hobbies, we supported each other in small and big ways as well.  Tim was the “celebrity appearance” for my book tours for The Napkin. He was also my ever-present yoga student during my teacher training and beyond.

I was his sous chef and kitchen manager for every catering gig, the late-night copy editor for his cookbook, and his handler at every cooking class and book signing event.

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Occasionally, exasperated in the midst of catering prep, I would say, why are we doing this again? And likewise, from time to time, as we headed out to my weekly yoga class, I noticed the less-than-enthusiastic look on Tim’s face. But this is what we did. These were just some of the ways that we backed each other up and fed each other’s confidence. I know that I grew in so many ways because of the support that Tim gave me, and I am certain he would say the same of his own growth bolstered by me.

Of course, in a partnership, you end up participating in a few things you don’t necessarily care for. And while you hopefully never loose site of your own self, it is inevitable to morph into a certain YOU within that relationship. You shift your own preferences to meet somewhere in the middle. I don’t believe that is about compromise. It’s about finding the best way to enjoy each other’s company and to share things. And we did.

But Tim’s hobbies went away with him. Now, I have space to fill. Sitting creekside in Waterton Canyon (a place I had never been before), taking a break from the bike, I think about the person that I am now. I think about what I am doing, and I see what is seeping into that space. I am filling it with outdoor adventures.

Tim and I definitely shared an interest in hiking and different ways to explore nature. But during most of our years together, he would typically enjoy a long leisurely walk much more than a strenuous hike. He would be the first to admit that some of the trails I selected for us were more than what he was looking for. It was typical on the first day of a vacation for Tim to say, can’t we do an easier hike so we can get acclimated? I promise, I tried, but that conversation was repeated every time. We started to laugh about it, because we knew it was inevitable.  

Now solo. In this beautiful state of Colorado with every year-round outdoor advantage you can think of, here I am doing it on my own. I am doing more. So much more. Hiking greater distance, elevation, bigger wilderness, all with increased frequency; and biking on streets, paths, and trails. Even, at times, waking long before sunrise to get started, and now bearing the snow and colder days. This is so new to me.

And here’s the thing, I never realized I had more. I just didn’t know what my more was. But I am finding it. To a degree, I am reinventing. Morphing as a solo. Have I expanded my limits due to the strength that has come from enduring grief? Has the person that I knew, and the way that I defined myself died, in part? I suspect yes, to both of those questions. I’m still me, but here I am finding my more.

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