I rarely celebrate my own milestones or triumphs.
Pausing just isn't a priority, to be honest.
My nifty horse blinders keep me climbing and scrounging and digging towards all the mountain peaks in my mind. Where I want to go, how far it'll take to get there, what it'll take to keep climbing, what needs to get done before I arrive.
I demand a lot of myself, often only seeing the dark nights, the lonely trails, the gritty hands and worn-out boots.
But I'm getting better at stopping to stare skyward.
To pay attention to how far I've come and to celebrate whatever rock I'm standing on.
So today, I'm stopping to breathe the number eighty.
Eighty doorways I can walk through in this world and see the work I've bled to make there on the shelves and at the tills.
Man, it's like looking up and just seeing the brightest night sky. Stars shot through with light.
God's got me on a climb and the tears pool right out the sides of my eyes while I take it all in.
It's just so beautiful to be here.
Thank you, you eighty stockists.
You have helped me get up this high and damn, the view's unreal.