When the World Slows You Down

Austin doesn’t usually see snow. So when the ice rolled in unexpectedly this past weekend, the city naturally slowed. Roads closed. Plans shifted. Staying home became the rhythm of the moment. And in that pause, space opened for something really good.

My son and his girlfriend came over on Friday and ended up staying the entire weekend with me and my bride. What began as a short visit unfolded into something much richer. With nowhere to rush off to, we settled into being together. It felt like an unplanned retreat, the kind you don’t schedule but remember. We talked. Real conversations. We laughed hard, played games, cooked every meal together, and walked outside in weather that made everything feel quieter and clearer. We watched the NFL playoffs stretched across the living room, fully present, enjoying the simple pleasure of shared time. Time felt generous, and we were right where we needed to be.

What stood out was how natural it all felt. No forcing connection. No trying to make anything meaningful. It simply was. Four people sharing space, stories, humor, silence, and warmth while the world outside moved at a slower pace. They also brought their two cats. Between them, our two dogs, and our cat, the house briefly felt like a small farm. Somehow, all of it worked. No tension. No drama. Just a full house settling into its own rhythm.

These moments stay with you. Not because of what happened, but because of how it felt to be there.

One thing stayed consistent through the weekend. Every day, no matter the conditions, I went outside and did my mile. Today marks 426 consecutive days of my one mile a day practice. One mile minimum. One day at a time. Always outside. No earbuds. Just me with me. Some days that mile becomes more. Two miles. Five miles. Over these 426 days, it’s added up to more than 600 miles. I now call it the Mule Mile. Not because it’s impressive, but because it’s dependable. It’s not about pace or motivation. It’s about choosing to show up. Bad weather. Busy days. Comfort or discomfort. One mile. Today. Walking in the cold brings a quiet clarity. Movement. Breath. Thought. A reminder of what matters.

Inside the house, connection unfolded the same way. Slowly. Naturally. Conversations deepened. Laughter lingered. Living at a pace that allowed life to meet us where we were. That weekend didn’t come from planning. It came from staying open to the moment that arrived. And in that openness, connection filled the space.

The Mule Mile works the same way. Quiet. Steady. Reliable. Over time, it builds something strong you can return to. Life often unfolds through simple choices repeated with care. Being present. Staying engaged. Taking the next step with intention.

Where might your life feel different if you slowed down long enough to actually experience it instead of managing it?

And if you’re realizing you want that kind of clarity and steadiness in your own life, you’re invited to schedule a consultative coaching conversation. Not to fix you. Just to help you find your pace and take the next right mile.