Outdoors
The speed of time never changes. Life passes at a clip of exactly 60 seconds per minute, though at times that’s not how it feels.
Using the year well 010417 OUTDOORS 1 For the Capital City Weekly The speed of time never changes. Life passes at a clip of exactly 60 seconds per minute, though at times that’s not how it feels.

JEFF LUND

Jeff Lund poses with a steelhead he caught this year.

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

Story last updated at 1/3/2017 - 6:09 pm

Using the year well

The speed of time never changes. Life passes at a clip of exactly 60 seconds per minute, though at times that’s not how it feels.

Ten seconds feels like four when you’re trying to break a full-court press. Two minutes feels like ten when there are five people with 16 items in the lane meant for 15.

Then there are times when the internal clock goes completely haywire. Has it really been 60 days since I have fished? Two whole months? There was that time I went to the creek and haphazardly threw an egg-sucking leech with my 5-weight fly rod as a 20-minute (was it 10?) scouting session on the creek. But that doesn’t really count. That wasn’t a bona fide fishing trip.

Two months.

What the heck have I been doing? Okay, basketball season is a valid excuse. Weather is another. I did some hunting in there too, but wow, two months, a sixth of a year.

When I lived in California, my buddies and I finally got serious one spring and were going to head to the closest decent spot for rainbow trout. My first stop was Bass Pro Shops to buy my fishing license. It was March. Three months into the year and I hadn’t even bought my fishing license. That was unacceptable.

I was writing an outdoor column for a paper down there and I felt like a fraud. Don’t you have to be outside to write about the outdoors? What the heck had I written about the previous months?

I looked back and the columns were legit but it totally makes sense. Time is consistent, but sneaky. Large chunks pass without you really noticing because the daily routine kept the focus narrow. It’s an appropriate time to contemplate this sort of thing, because social media is telling me what kind of year I had, and I had to decide whether or not I trusted it. After all, the program doesn’t know me. It’s just guessing based on user interactions. So was it a great year? Or did I just have 10 cool pictures that people liked?

Good years don’t happen by accident. It takes a good attitude because how you plan to use the minutes in the New Year doesn’t always work out. If you don’t designate a section of time for those great things that make your life worth talking about, the time between can slip away while you’re binge watching NetFlix, waiting for your life to become something worth living.

So I’ve planned a two-week trip road trip in June that will start with my cousin’s wedding near Truckee, loop up to West Yellowstone, Missoula, then down to Bend, Oregon the way to Redding.

Then some buddies are coming up to fish. Then more. Then more. Then it’s hunting season. But before I get too excited about spring steelhead or summer salmon, I need to get to the river this weekend.

Jeff Lund teaches and writes out of Ketchikan.