The “entertainment reporter” was carrying on and on about a certain actress who’s done this and that and more of this and that and how she’s “hit her stride” with her current project.
So, as I stood in the shower this morning, fishing my daughter’s long hair out of the drain, I got to thinking…
Have I hit my stride?
hit one’s stride:
to reach the level at which one functions most competently
I definitely know I’ve hit a lot of things in my life:
I’ve hit a deer and a turkey with my SUV (not simultaneously, however).
I’ve hit the bottle numerous times in my younger years.
I’ve hit the nail on the head.
I’ve hit the wall more times than I’d like to recall.
I’ve hit my limit many, MANY times with my teenage kids.
I’ve hit the ground running (that was in my 20’s when I was much spunkier).
I’ve hit a baseball.
I’ve hit tons of speed bumps (physically and metaphorically).
I’ve been known to hit the gym.
I’ve hit many targets.
I’ve even hit a rabbit with a glass bottle (which was pure luck and also an accident).
And a few times I’ve hit the road.
So have I hit my stride? Ummm… I don’t think so. It’s more like a shuffle. I think my stride got lost somewhere between riding my Big Wheels trike (with which I hit a telephone pole and sheared off the ride side of the handlebars) and cleaning out the pigpen.
Maybe I’ll find it someday, buried under a rock or in the back of my closet. For now, I’m content to watch a beautiful sunrise and give thanks that my shuffle is not a stagger, stumble, teeter or wobble.