One Thousand Sunrises

Death really has an inconvenient way of reshaping your priorities. One day you’re just living life. The next day, the world looks irreconcilably different. I can’t tell you what to prioritize. You probably finds different things fulfilling. Even if I could, people can’t really understand until they do.

In the United States, the average lifespand is seventy-seven years

For me, I’d stopped backpacking. Growing up, I was outdoors regularly. At least monthly, scouts had me camping or backpacking. When I went to college I lost a consistent group. People were busy. Hell–I was busy. So I didn’t go.

With 365 days per year, that leaves us 28,105 possible sunrises during our lifetime

Reprioritizing started easy. When I planned everything and invited friends, I could make a few trips happen. More than that and I struggled to find people willing to go.

How often are you up and outside for sunrise? Once per week?

I started going solo. It was scary at first. Despite spending many hours backpacking, everything felt completely new. With each trip, it got easier until I almost prefer solo trips from a planning perspective. But at least I’m getting out there–on weekends.

Only 4,015 sunrises

We have to work to get food, shelter, and money to fund our hobbies. How many days do I lose sitting in front of a screen? How many sunrises or sunsets do I miss for “urgent” meetings or issues?

Roughly 32% of days are cloudy here. Only 2,730 sunrises remain

I want to see more sunrises than that. Seeing 1,000 extra sunrises/sunsets seems like an achievable goal. It would only take three years assuming nothing got in the way.

I’ve got some time. On my deathbed, I hope there are memories of what I’ve done, not dreams I didn’t achieve.