I had a free day open up on my calendar, so I had Deanne drop me off in E-ville on her way to work. I had a muffin at the little cafe there ("Caffeinated"), and was off on the Heritage Trail by 7:14. It was my ambition to hike over to the Karst Farm Greenway and follow it all the way down by the fairgrounds and then home -- a distance of right at ten miles. The morning was cool and the path was shady for most of the way. I set off easily. While I walked, I continued to think over some things that occupied my mind last night -- what might be called "mortal thoughts." How long might I realistically expect to live? Thirty more years? That would put me at 99, which would be a grand old age -- and not entirely unheard of, but still -- not something you should assume as a given. So -- twenty more years? That would mean 89, which is more realistic. But of course, the biggest issue is how many more years of health and strength will I have to do the things I want to do? Now, I will always do ministry. I can see myself preaching and teaching some, even doing some committee work, on into my declining years. And I will always want to do things with family. But how long can I do really active stuff? That's the big question. Right now, one of the biggest commitments in my life is helping my two grandcubs grow up into the young men they need to be. And each year, I take each of them on a special trip for his birthday. These trips are very active. I'm the wise old trail guide taking them on adventures. But I gotta tell ya, they're making ground harder to sleep on than they used to. How many more rough-and-tumble adventures can I pull off before I have to switch to hotels and the pleasures of the senior circuit? The answer: maybe five or six more years. If I do six more years, I'll be 75 and James will be 16. Daniel at that point would be almost 19. At some point, young men get busy with Scouts, school, friends, jobs, even (gasp) romance. Somehow, I don't think they'll need Grandbear to be the wise old trail guide by the time they're in their late teens. So there: I've got to hold myself together at least that long. After that, we might still do some trips, but we'll be looking for the plush berths; roughin' it will be beyond the Old Bear at that point. I'll still hold out hope to see them launched in life, and maybe even tell my tales to their children, but taking those kids places will be on Anna and Brian, not me. The expectations are even shorter in terms of the ministry I'm doing right now to help launch the Global Methodist Church and the Great Lakes Provisional Annual Conference. I can see doing the Presiding Elder gig for a couple more years -- long enough to get us through the launch and develop the team needed to lead the district. The same would be true if I were given a major Conference chair in the new org structure. I could only do that for 2-3 years, just long enough to get the team up and running. Right now, the GMC and the GLPAC can use my experience, but once we've cleared the harbor, it'll be time to drop the pilot. We'll have people in their prime years ready to lead by that point, and I'll be proud to let them do it (besides being very tired). So, a few more years of really active ministry and prodigious Grandbearing, and then we'll hope for ten or fifteen years at least of good health for quieter pursuits. But that's all in God's hands. I won't be looking to make any long-term commitments at that point, unless God hits me up the head with a very big clue-by-four. Well, those were my thoughts on the trail, but I took the time to notice many things. I saw lots of mullein, some fleabane, a few wild daisies, touch-me-not, ailanthus, hemlock, staghorn sumac, sassafras, and some trees I recognized. There are a thousand plants by the side of the road I don't know, and wish I did. Of animals, I saw a chipmunk, lots of rabbits, and many birds: killdeer, a robin, a great blue heron in a little creek, red-winged blackbirds, goldfinches . . . As I hit the nine-mile mark about Karst Farm Park, the asphalt finally started to make some hot spots on my left foot. I stopped at a shelter and took off my boots to cool my feet before schlepping that last mile home. I made it home at 11:07. That's ten miles in three hours and 53 minutes, which is a spanking pace. My estimated lifetime hiking mileage now stands at 2026 miles. Not too bad for an old bear. Festina lente, as the emperor Augustus would say; Keep on truckin', to quote Mr. Natural.