Once there was a young kayaker. He eagerly anticipated each and every journey along the various riverways he traveled. He savored the rushing sounds of the rapids, the tranquil moments of the smooth waters. He strengthened his skills when encountering stronger, difficult currents, regaining his breath in the calmer stretches. Every river was a different adventure, a challenging experience.
He continued to kayak for many years. He approached each new river, or each river he had previously traveled, as a new and different learning experience though he used the same skills to navigate different rapids, different curves. Some trips had higher water levels due to a denser snowpack. Other times were not so plentiful. He learned to appreciate the different scenery along each riverbank; towering forests, majestic canyons, open deserts, grassy plains, all beautiful terrains.
In time, the rivers seemed to grow stronger. He felt he battled longer and didn't get any further, though that wasn't really true. Sometimes, he felt as if he were paddling upstream, when indeed he wasn't. The rivers seemed to be fighting him, pushing against him-even in the calm stretches. Each journey seemed to exhaust him more than before. He sadly realized he no longer enjoyed kayaking as much as he used to.
On his last trip home, as he unpacked his gear, storing it neatly in his garage, he knew. He had made the right decision.
While he knew he would miss it, he accepted his decision to give up kayaking. Yet, he eagerly looked forward to finding a new interest, a new hobby, a new adventure.
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