The Joy of the Middle

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The beginning and ending tend to be what gets remembered most. We can recall the excitement and enthusiasm starting a new project, partnership, romance, home, family, or friendship. We also vividly remember how all of these end, whether naturally or suddenly.

This robs us of the portion that really matters, where the mundane resides but without which progress comes to a halt. I'm talking about the middle, that part of a plan, relationship, or life where we actually devote the bulk of our time. It tends to muddle together because it doesn't leave quite the impression of the beginning and the end, what is known as the primacy effect. 

That's why so much emphasis is placed on first impressions and final departures. But the middle is where we make our imprint, whether living up to a promise or proving people wrong. It's everything in the middle that determines how we are seen and remembered when it's lights out.

Right now I'm in the middle of my backpack training. Like my marathon training years, I am feeling that first peak -- where the mind and body are aligned and early aches and pains are no longer worrisome. Where the finish line is not just possible but probable.

I'm also in another middle -- trying to enjoy the remaining time we're living in San Diego before retirement propels us far north. I can still enjoy my container gardens and not worry about what will happen to them once we move on. Rooms are enjoyed as is, not scrutinized for what must go before the movers show up. Weekends are all about family and friends, not do-do lists with definitive end dates.

Our teen is in the middle of high school, inching toward adulthood (legally, at least) without the real need to have a plan for what's next. My grandsons are still middling through preschool, not subject to peer pressure or teachers' timetables for 12 years.

I love the middle. Always have. In high school, it wasn't my freshman or senior years but sophomore and junior ones that proved pivotal to my future. I found my future career, even if by defying my classmates and teachers. I found my future husband. I was happy having less pressure to perform well. My freshman year in college, I floundered; my senior year, I panicked. In between, I found lifelong friends and part-time jobs that let me graduate on time and with manageable student debt.

Until San Diego, I moved every two to four years for my entire life. And when we settled down, I moved houses every two to five years until our current place, where we would have moved years ago had life circumstances not changed dramatically.

Back to that backpack training. I'm now able to walk 3-5 miles with a 20-25-pound pack and will soon bump it up to 30 pounds and 6 miles and call it complete. My initial hike was just under 2 miles and left me sore for days. On Sunday, I went twice as long and had energy to spare.

I know peaking when I experience it, and I know the key now is to gently nudge up numbers without rattling my musculature or taking a tumble that costs more than momentum. Just yesterday I suffered a freak accident where the fridge door slammed into my foot and left quite the raised bruise. Fortunately, I'd already planned a break due to travel.

The middle is where the magic happens. It's the heart of a story, where characters evolve and plots thicken. It's the sweet spot in a journey, where the thrill of the unknown mingles with the comfort of familiarity. It's where ideas spark during conversations and true connections are made. So let's all embrace the middle and appreciate the depth and beauty that lies between a beginning and ending.

Photo of a lake during the middle of a training hike within the Grasslands Reserve in Ramona.

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