The ripples you forgot you made
On inspiration that sinks, surfaces, and returns when you need it most
The ice is melting here in Michigan. I can finally see the concrete again. There’s more friction under my feet, less fear of slipping and cracking my skull open. But it’s not just the pavement I’m rediscovering. It’s everything that was underneath all winter, forgotten and finally beginning to thaw.
A few days ago, I bundled up for a cold walk at dusk, scarf wrapped around my face like a cinnamon roll, my blue handmade hat, and a hood. I hadn’t moved all day and knew once the sun went down, it’d be game over. As I walked, I listened to a voice note from my friend Stef. He’s someone I’d run my second half-marathon with years ago. In the note, he was recounting his 30th birthday celebrations when suddenly his words stopped me mid-stride:
“You were the sole influence for that walk. When you did your 12-hour walk, oh my god, your first ever ultramarathon, that was fucking amazing dude. And that is 100% the inspiration I took for my own walk.”
Two weeks prior, he’d walked 30 miles across the island of Oahu for his 30th birthday. Inspired by something I’d done a year and a half ago. Something I’d completely forgotten about.
That “ultramarathon” I did on August 2, 2024 was an accident. It was part of my annual ritual to walk for 12 hours. I threw that stone into the water and watched it sink. I didn’t know it was still making ripples.
I stood there on the slippery sidewalk of morningside drive and cried.
Because lately, I’ve been so hard on myself. I used to do high-intensity cardio six days a week, and saying “I am an athlete” felt as natural as butter on bread. Now I feel like a potato who can barely get outside. I’ve run three times in the past three months. My spine’s scoliosis is degenerating. I’m turning 30 in a couple days on Sunday. I keep asking myself: have I landed yet? My anxiety whispers into my ear the question of whether my breathing on this planet for three whole freaking decades has amounted to anything?
A decade ago, when I was twenty, I was bright and optimistic. A young whippersnapper who didn’t yet know she’d barely pass her business law class, which would then lead to discovering she was dyslexic, and later learn that working 40 hours a week at a financial corporation would suck her soul out. Now I feel like a bit of a naysayer, though maybe just less naive. I realize adulthood is a long ride with oodles of decisions still ahead.
I’m currently living with my parents and between jobs. This isn’t where 20-year-old me thought I’d be at nearly 30. But here I am. The world is shifting, and I’m navigating it the best I can.
And then Stef’s voice note reminded me: I skipped a stone that sent ripples all the way to Hawaii. Years later. And now it’s sending ripples back.
Time can pile up like snow, covering everything you’ve done, making you forget how capable you are. The stones you’ve thrown sink to the bottom. The ripples fade from view. But they don’t stop. They keep moving, reaching places you’ll never see, touching people in ways you’ll never know about.
Every year since I turned 25, I’ve done something to get into my body on my birthday. A long walk around Chicago by the Bean. Swimming in the Pacific. Biking around volcanoes. Last year, a three-hour contact improv dance workshop in Chiang Dao, Thailand, touching strangers. Each year, this intention feels a little crazy. Who do I think I am? But I kept throwing stones anyway.
This year, for my 30th, I have no idea what I’ll do. Walking 30 miles sounds like my personal hell in Michigan. Thirty minutes of yoga sounds too easy. I’ll wake up and see what movement wants to happen.
But now I remember something: I’ve been skipping stones all along. The ice is melting, and I can feel the ripples again. And they’re not just my own, but the ones from everyone around me. From my past self. From Stef throwing his stone back to me when I needed it most.
The ripples are always there. Even when they’re frozen over. Even when you forget you ever threw anything at all.
~~~
Hello fellow learn-it-all 👋 Greetings from Detroit, Michigan. I hope you’ve enjoyed the above little story about my life and setting intentions. Let’s dive into the rest of letter 301. Enjoy :)
❓Question to think about
How can we learn from the past ripples of our lives?
🎧Listening
Read My Mind by The Killers
It's funny how you just break down
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine
Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?
🔍Word to define
Cavort: (verb) jump or dance around excitedly.
Example: I like to cavort by body daily by walking, lifting, running, or dancing. Through motion, my mind stabilizes; a stagnant body distorts my thinking.
Found via this tweet:
Informal meaning of cavort: apply oneself enthusiastically to sexual or disreputable pursuits.
Example: “he spent his nights cavorting with the glitterati” (from Oxford Language)
additional definition of glitterati: the attractive elite of society
🌟Quote to inspire
“In the modern world, it is easy to feel like a passenger: reacting to notifications, responding to demands, consuming whatever you happen to drive past on your screen.
But joy is found in being the driver. It’s the act of looking at the raw material of your circumstances — your time, your energy, your relationships, your skills — and seeing what you can make from it. It is the act of creating the life you want (in big and small ways) that makes you feel alive and imbues life with extra meaning.
The fact that you can hold a vision in your mind and then, however imperfectly, bend reality a few degrees in that direction.”
— James Clear, author of Atomic Habits
📸Photos of the Week
Getting some steps in each day with my parents has been the highlight of my day most days. :)
🙏Shoutouts
to my friend Stef for inspiring this piece
to my past self for remindind me of how inspiration can still be around even if it doesn’t seem like it
I am grateful you chose to fill part of your day here.
If something in this letter resonated, press the ❤️ , leave a comment, reply to this email, or reach me at vermetJL@gmail.com. I love hearing from you.
Keep on learning 😁
Tot snel 🌺 🌺
Toodles :)
Jen
P.S. - Here’s what you missed. Last week I celebrated my 300th week of showing up to publish on Substack, which is the most consistent thing in my life.
P.P.S. - I wrote a book. Letters to My Life is my favorite way to share my writing with you (and it keeps your screen-time stats down). Grab your copy here.
P.P.P. S. - one last shot of that 12 hour walk and where I walked:
I love this, Jen. I can relate to so much of it: the in-between seasons, missing the naivity of youth, not knowing yet what your impact really is, and what it means to be a “grown up” (a naysayer haha).
The way the voice note found you at exactly the right moment, is so beautiful. And for myself, an important reminder that the ripples are there, even when everything feels frozen over.
I’m really glad you’re seeing the ripples again. 🤍 Happy belated birthday.
Happy Birthday?