What the Rocky Mountain Express Taught Me

The week after Christmas always feels like an exhale to me—a pause between what has been and what is coming next. This year, Rick and I filled that space with rest, laughter, games, and movies—lots of movies. And a little binging of The Lincoln Lawyer.

But eventually we were ready for something new, something away from home, so we picked a few places to wander. One of those wanderings took us to the Carnegie Science Center … to the train display neither of us had seen in decades and a colorful holiday Laserium show.

That’s when we, somewhat accidentally, discovered a new IMAX film—one that ended up speaking right to my heart.

Rocky Mountain Express wasn’t just a film about trains—although that’s what we thought it was going to be: a beautiful train ride through mountain country, IMAX style. Instead, it was a story of patience and perseverance.

The Rocky Mountain Express was built in the 1880s, Canada’s first transcontinental railroad. Interesting history on its own.

But here’s what caught my attention and made my jaw drop: before they ever laid a track, twenty years of surveying and research were done. Twenty years of preparing, learning, and figuring out how to do something that felt almost impossible.

Once construction began, it took four years to build. But the detail that gripped me most was this: there were stretches of mountain terrain so treacherous—blasting through rock and dangerous passes—that crews would complete only five feet of rail in an entire day.

A full day’s work for just five feet of progress.

This wasn’t every day. Some days were easier and several miles of track could be laid.

But on the hardest days? Five feet in a day.

Does this echo something in your life right now?

Progress that’s slower than you’d like?

Maybe it’s a health journey, a creative project, a relationship struggle, or even your business. Some days feel like flow—movement, momentum, possibility. Then suddenly, your pace slows again. Everything feels harder. And you find yourself wondering, “Will I ever finish this?” “Will it ever be what I hope for?” “Will this ever resolve?”

Maybe the lesson is this: slow progress is still progress. Five feet a day still matters. Five feet a day still moves you forward.

Some seasons ask us to sprint. Others invite us to breathe, steady ourselves, and keep showing up—inch by inch, prayer by prayer, faithful step by faithful step.

If you’re in a “five feet a day” season right now, I see you.

I am too. My slow place right now is a creative project that simply requires time, patience, and staying with it. For a long time.

Keep going.

The track is still being laid. The story is still being written. And one day, you’ll look back and realize just how far you’ve come.

What five feet are you being invited to lay today?