The pause before the storm

Back at It

I haven’t written since November 24th

That’s a long stretch for someone who claims to be documenting the journey. But the truth is, it felt strange trying to spin stories about growth and adventure when I was essentially homebound, pacing between the kitchen and the bathroom like The Dude in flip-flops, trying to convince myself that this was all part of the plan.

I wasn’t deployed.

I wasn’t on the road.

I was poisoned from home.

There were a couple strange, special assignments sprinkled in — enough to keep things interesting — but mostly I was just trying to hold my crap together and not drown in three inches of water.

The good news is that somewhere in the middle of the monotony, something clicked. There was a bonus tied to claims handled, and from November on, I managed to hit it every single day I was eligible. That doesn’t mean I’ve got it mastered. A lot of this is still brand new territory. But it does mean I’m getting better.

Or at least less confused.

I’m giving myself a little grace here. Maybe there was a stretch of time when Robert Frost was building stone walls or cutting and stacking firewood and just didn’t write much.

Yeah.

We’re going with that.

On Sunday, I finally got on a plane again, headed to training in New Braunfels, Texas.

Even if the first leg was an 18-minute hop from Greensboro to Charlotte, it still felt good to be moving. There’s something about airports — the hum, the rolling suitcases, the overpriced coffee, and the quiet suspicion that everyone else knows where they’re going — that reminds me I’m part of the world again.

Layovers on the way home are coming, but that’s Future Nate’s problem.

Local History Break

New Braunfels was founded in 1845 by German settlers led by Prince Carl of Solms-Braunfels, who named the town after his home in Germany. His fiancée, Princess Sophie, famously declined to join him on the Texas frontier.

You can imagine the exchange:

Carl: “My love, we will build a shining settlement in the New World.”

Sophie: “Carl, there are no bakeries, no orchestras, and I’m fairly certain everything there wants to bite me.”

She stayed in Europe.He abandoned everything and returned.

History paints it as aristocratic reluctance. I see it as practical decision-making.

When I once floated a job opportunity in Minnesota, Jamie listened patiently, nodded, and said:

“It’s cold. You go. Send money home.”

Princess Sophie would have approved.

Although, if  Sophie had tried the breakfast tacos, history might have turned out differently.

Training has been good. Helpful. Necessary. Also humbling in the way that reminds you how much you still don’t know.

What has been less helpful to my overall athletic trajectory is the local cuisine.

I’ve been here three days.

I’ve eaten breakfast tacos.

And five brisket sandwiches.

At this point, I doubt Jamie and I will need to start walking again when I get home.

I may need to begin with a slow roll.

Maybe downhill.

With a light breeze at our backs.

The calendar is turning, and hail season will be spinning up in full swing again soon. If the patterns hold, the radar will start lighting up, phones will start buzzing, and we’ll all be chasing storms instead of breakfast tacos.

Which, if I’m being honest, is where I feel most useful.

The long pause was strange. Necessary, maybe. But strange.

Soon the sky will start throwing ice again, and with it comes motion, purpose, long days, hotel coffee, dented metal, and the quiet satisfaction of helping people put things back together.

Hopefully, no more long breaks.

It feels good to be writing again.

Because sometimes the lessons live in the stillness…

…but the stories come alive in the motion.