I watched Felix Baumbartner’s record breaking skydive. It really was something to behold. For many reasons. But one of those reasons gave me more pause.

My wife and I live in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. We often go to Iowa City, which is about 25 miles away. It takes a little less than thirty minutes.

Yet, if I were to drive my car strait up for 25 miles I would nearly exit the stratosphere. I would run out of oxygen before three miles. Three miles. I could walk that far in an hour. So, if I took a leisurely walk straight up, I would be dead in an hour, if I didn’t freeze before then.

For some reason that just boggles my mind. I simply can’t reconcile horizontal distance with vertical distance.

If Cedar Rapids were the surface, satellites would only be in Chicago.

There is something lusciously invigorating about how insignificant that makes me feel. It renders my understanding of distance into the same category as time: nearly unfathomable.