"Nothing will sustain you more potently than the power to recognize in your humdrum routine, as perhaps it may be thought, the true poetry of life." Sir William Osler

Finish lines. Weve all crossed them. Going through nine months of pregnancy to cross the finish line into labor. Enduring long, painful labor to cross the finish line into delivering a newborn babe. Pulling our hair out during the terrible twos to cross the finish line of the third candle in the birthday cake. Discovering that the threes have a life of their own, to cross the finish line into the fours. Gliding through the golden ages of five, six and seven to cross the finish line of early childhood, only to turn around and realize that youre smack in the middle of adolescence. Crossing the finish line with a new driver in the house. Followed by the finish line of high school graduation. Then College. Your wedding day.

Life is full of them.

When Nick was initially diagnosed with leukemia, I remember thinking: If only we can get through the torturous three-year protocol. Then well be fine. Well have crossed the finish line. And then the words of my minister, who came to visit during that first Yale Hospital stay, lingered: Dont forget that life happens in the middle. With both eyes firmly fixed on the finish line, it was easy to see that I might be missing out on everything else that was happening meanwhile. In the middle.

Funny. It seems that we measure life not only by how many finish lines we cross, but by how quickly-or fully-we cross them. The crossing of a finish line into the next corporate promotion is measured by level bumps, salary increases and stock options. Measured in fullness. The finish line of early education might be measured in swiftness of reading, of comprehension and vocabulary. Measured in speed.

Im as guilty as the next person in quantifying and validating my existence by easily measured finish lines: everything from my placement on Amazons sales lists to the number of attendees at a seminar to how many articles Im able to write in a month; they all add--or subtract from-my success.

And I see it all around me in motherhood: moms comparing progress in their children to those of their peers, teachers juxtaposing child against child with grades and easily quantifiable data. IQ tests and achievement tests ranking one child higher than another. College acceptance letters to your first choice going to someone other than your own kid.

Nick crossed a finish line this week by completing prong #2 of a three-pronged protocol in his treatment for leukemia. He crossed the finish line of prong #1 (a 28-day treatment to get him into remission) only to begin a brutal one-year intensification phase of the chemo program. He crossed that finish line-prong #2--on Friday. But it is rather short-lived: hell begin prong #3 next week and chart a year-and-a-half course until he crosses the next finish line. At that point, hell still have a couple of years to go until he crosses that magical finish line of the five-year mark before he is declared officially cured.

If we stay completely focused on the strength, speed or fullness with which we cross finish lines, we miss out on most of the good stuff. We miss out on what happens in the middle: life. I need to constantly remind myself that while Nick is running towards the finish line of complete and total healing, that his three siblings are fully engaged in living. That his dad still works a job and mom still tidies up the house, feeds the dog, washes the dirty laundry, and deals with groceries and dinner. That community service gets attention; gifts get wrapped; letters get written and times tables get memorized. That life happens while were waiting to cross finish lines.

I hope you spend some time this week thinking about your own finish lines. Be it getting through the next few months and crossing the finish line of Christmas, or watching your senior fill our college applications to cross the finish line into acceptance; life holds one for you in one form or another. Just dont get so caught up in the line that you forget the daily interactions, the easily dispensable conversations or the quickly dismissed moments that happen in between. Dont forget that the best of life happens between the finish lines.