Sabbatical

For the last three years, we have been able to stay in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina in January, where conditions are far more favorable for running and outdoor activities than in Highlands.  Martha's aunt Lizette has a condo there, right on the beach, and she has graciously invited family members to stay there.  We are so thankful for her generosity!  When we left Highlands this morning, heading eastward, a cold rain was falling, and all we could think about was the better days that stretched out ahead of us, sunny days, in this New Year full of possibilities.

I have called these stays in Atlantic Beach a sabbatical rather than a vacation for the past two or three years.  Wikipedia's definition of a religious sabbatical:

Sabbatical or a sabbatical (from Hebrew: shabbat (שבת) (i.e., Sabbath), in Latin: sabbaticus, in Greek: sabbatikos (σαββατικός), literally a "ceasing") is a rest from work, or a break, often lasting from one month to a year.

This concept is one that speaks to us.  We are runners, outdoors people, and winter in Highlands makes it more difficult to be active.  My friend Fred, who will turn 80 a week from now, makes do with the treadmill during the winter.  "I used to say it was too cold to run when it was below 30," he told me a couple of weeks ago.  "Now it is when it is below 40."  I'm heading in that direction myself.  And I cannot seem to find a treadmill that accommodates my long legs.  While this page has often been filled with descriptions of epic January runs in Highlands in the past - snow frozen on my toboggan, skin raw from a bitter north wind - I am discovering that the older I get the hardier I used to be.

At the same time, a sabbatical is as much mental and spiritual as it is physical.  Here, away from the multitudinous distractions of everyday life, we find that we have more time to read, to write, to sit and meditate, to pray, to get back in touch with the boundless ocean and the wide sky, to grow closer together again, to recreate and renew ourselves.  We have both been accumulating books to read in two little piles on the table, ready to pack, ever since Thanksgiving.  And the television never, ever is turned on here.  The door is open when temperatures permit so that the rhythmic singing voice of the ocean meanders into this condo and surrounds us.  So thank you Lizette, for this time - is there anything more precious than time? - here on the far edge of North Carolina, a place that we have come to enjoy more and more each year.

By the time we had reached Asheville the rain had stopped, and the rest of the journey took place on dry roads but under gray skies.  We arrived in Raleigh by 4:00 and stopped to have a good visit with Lizette.  She has been in the hospital and then in physical rehab for a month, so it was good to see her back home again.  She told us that she had learned that for every day in the hospital, three days were needed to gain ground again.

We had told her that we wanted to try to make it as far as possible to Atlantic Beach, but by the time we left, it was dark and we found ourselves in rush hour traffic, conditions with which I am no longer comfortable.  So we spent the night on the outskirts of Raleigh.