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Katherine Ryder Published: October 1, 2010 9:44 AM

I have always kind of pitied the people I knew who needed to commute for their jobs. The idea of getting up anywhere from a half hour to an hour early just to allot for drive time seemed unnecessary and to be honest...terrible.

So when I finally settled on a career step I assumed that it would land me in an ideal location to reside outside of the office. But for one reason or another I chose an apartment out of town...25 minutes away to be precise.

I took a tour, I signed a lease, it became official " I am a commuter.

At first the thrill of the new job kept my mind off of the additional 50 minutes consuming my day. Nevertheless, as those minutes, and miles, began to take their toll I noticed I was somewhat dreading the waste of my precious time and money.

Initially I questioned the right lanes, the right exits and the right speed limits. It took a few days for me to relax my grip from the steering wheel and coast confidently through the windy roads as I made my way home.

Each morning when my alarm sounded I fought the urge to disable it and roll my head back under the pillow.

I'd get dressed, make coffee and clear the morning dew from my front windshield.

Still groggy, and slightly moody, I'd maneuver onto the highway and pray that I beat the rush of school buses.

And then I'd reach the stretch of country, just past the busy streetlights of downtown, where the road grows and declines in front of me. Where the sun pokes through the fog and leaves morph to their fall colors.

I take my time, tune the radio and let these wasted minutes take over.


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