Bridges are important

I never thought much about bridges until now.  We build them.  We burn them.  We cross them when we get to them.  Bridges help with the gaps; which is to say they are connectors.  I like connections.  A psychologist once told me that connectivity is key to human happiness.

Bridges are important.

One in particular has been important to me for 12 years – the total number of years I lived in Navarre, Florida, where I ran across a steadfast bridge, over the serene Santa Rosa Sound, to the white-sand shore of the Gulf of Mexico.  But this was not just any bridge.  It became a part of my daily routine and of everything I experienced during a given period.  This bridge was under my feet during strong, fast runs and during slow, strugglers when my muscles were sore and tired.  It supported me through sun-shiny weather and through near-tropical-storm-force winds and torrential rain.  Some days I showed off my best form over the bridge’s incline, and some days I fell and bled all over that bridge. Once, I tripped over a homeless man sleeping on the dark path.

I think I felt every single emotion on that bridge.  While I ran I was happy, hopeful, depressed, terrified, or excited about whatever was happening in my life.  I smiled, laughed, meditated, screamed, and cried.  I prayed nearly every time I was out there, and by my calculation, I went over that bridge more than 5,000 times.

From my bridge (yes, I began to think of it as my bridge) I saw dolphins, stingrays, sea turtles, bull sharks, and a few decent-sized rats.  I caught glimpses of wintertime shooting stars and springtime rainbows.  Some of my favorite views were the sunrises and sunsets, and during high training two-a-day periods, often I saw both in a single day.  But my real favorite views were the fun faces of people with whom sometimes I had the honor to run.  Faster and slower people.  Younger and older people (okay, mostly younger people).  All of us connected by running.  And by this bridge.

Recently, as I prepared to move away from Navarre, I was worried.  I could feel the impending loss of my bridge and how it might affect me.  I would miss it and its significance in my life.

I arrived in Chattanooga and, attempting to settle myself as quickly as possible, I began to run; first alone, and then with some local groups.  The people are friendly and welcoming…and fast (yikes).  There are three bridges near my house, all leading across the Tennessee River.  Like my fellow runners, these bridges are friendly and have welcomed me into this new hometown.  There are no dolphins, but there are long, graceful boats sliding across the water.  And I’ve seen some fantastic sunrises and sunsets.

All this circles back to the significance of bridges.  They are connectors in our lives – all of them.  Sometimes we need to be connected to different things, people, places, or situations.  So, sometimes we need new bridges.  If we cross only one bridge forever, we risk missing disparate, beautiful, and possibly significant views we are meant to see.

I miss my bridge, but I’ve decided to think of it in this way:  I haven’t lost a connector, but instead have added three new ones to my collection, and I can’t wait to see where these bridges take me.

Lori Dierig

Chattanooga, TN