It is Friday night; race night.  The line of pickups pulling open trailers and enclosed trailers, the envied high-dollar pullers are coming from all directions to the track.  The drivers are wearing their lucky t-shirt, Oakley sunglasses, and their favorite jam is blaring from the speakers as they unload in their spot in the pits.  They feel good.  Tonight is THEIR night!  “It’s race time boys.” As the cars round turn 3 coming into turn 4 the flagman drops the green flag and the race cars pick up speed racing for the front of the pack with the goal of taking the checkered flag…being #1.  For many though it is to just finish the race with an intact race car.  The race can be grueling and intense but it does bring an element of fun and for many they carry a deep love of racing onto that track and feel immense pride as they maneuver for the top spot.  After the race they all pull back into the pits and overlook the car hoping to see that little will need to be done to it for the next race, maybe complain about the rookie driver or how bad the track was and then load up and head home reflecting on how the night went.

My life seems to be synonymous with a race track. Many hours have been spent at the track but many facets fit into that of a race.  As any other child I did not have a choice when it came to how I was raised in relation to finances.  My parents had good jobs and provided well for us.  We did not though have a lot of money and I certainly did not have the best car in my class but I had a car.  I didn’t have the  best clothes but I had clothes.  I was able to do most of what I wanted as my parents trusted me and my friends.  The speed of life increased tenfold when I had children just like a green flag was dropped and there was no turning back.  No yellow flag to slow it down and take a breather; it wasfull speed ahead and I had no choice but to take the steering wheel of my life and tried my very best to hang on and not spin out.  It was intense and at times it was so incredibly grueling  and I was sure that I would simply fall off the pace but with a few pit stops I was able to stay in the race.  I may have not done my life the way others would have and certainly at times envied the neighbors and wanted to keep up with the Jones’ but found immense joy living it the way I did.

Life moves so fast and as we age it seems to move even faster.  I do not think there is a single person who hits middle age that does not say, “Where did time go?” We spend half our life racing to get to a particular age, rush to payday, anticipate our vacations, and race to our children’s games or to the grocery store.  Race, race, race.  Personally, it appears now that the fast laps of my race are over.  I have raised my children to be the best that they can be and set myself into a job that I will retire from one day.  I am now getting things ready for the next part of my life; a simpler, slower state.  I spend more quiet time with my friends and family talking about life and maybe complain about this or that and know that life is too short to be holding anger and hurt and if someone does not want me in their life I do not need to force them.  Age does so much good for a person, of that I am certain.  How comforting it has become to get to the point to realize that life is no longer a race and I can now sit down and take a place in the stands and enjoy those I love.

So for tonight I’ve loaded my car up and I’m leaving the pits and heading out and reflecting on all the fun and joy I found in my race and look forward to what’s ahead.  There may be a race or two left in me but I might just stick to watching from the stands as there is much to see in the calm from there.  I reflect now and realize that in my race my checkered flag came with pride, joy, happiness, and love; pride in fighting my way to where I am today, an incredible amount of joy through the years with my children, happiness with my husband, and such love for my grandchildren.