Running Towards Perseverance

Knees on the ground. Legs covered in mud.

I started the idea of trail running last fall. I felt invigorated after the first couple of runs. I had toyed with trail running in the past but hadn’t enjoyed it. Part of it I think was that every time I tried it I turned an ankle that kept me from running for a couple of weeks. But this time around I found myself enjoying it. I stopped running to get faster and started running just to enjoy the run and all that goes with it. Being in the woods has a peaceful silence to it and it allows me to quiet my mind.

Today, however, I find the run testing my peace of mind. This first fall felt as if the weight of my mission was in jeopardy early in the run. I felt all of my physical strength leave me early in the run. Picking myself up that first time made me feel as though the heavy load is too much to bear. I wondered how I would manage to get through this long journey. But I got up. I got up because I desired with my whole heart to carry on through this long run, the longest trail run I’ve attempted, to its very end.

I wiped the mud from my legs. I start taking a couple of steps and then move back into a jog. I get a few miles in and find myself falling into a pattern. I stop thinking about the trail in front of me and my mind starts to wander. How can I be a better husband? I haven't been very compassionate lately. How can I be a better father? I haven't spent much time with them lately. I have that training that I'm conducting at work next week. What am I going to say to them?

The miles go by. The weight of the world lifts off of me. I feel at peace again

Down again. I’m weighed down by the heaviness of falling down again. This time when I fall, my shoulder hits a rock jutting out of the ground. Pain shoots through my shoulder and arm and I wonder if I’ve injured it. I’m weary. The pain in my shoulder is coupled with the injury to my pride. I’m covered in mud from the chest down. I use every bit of my strength to prop myself up on my hands and knees. As I lie prostrate I am aware of my enormous fatigue. I am many miles into my run. I have nothing left.

I lay there prostrate for a few moments. I don’t have a choice but to get up. I’m miles and miles from the car. If I'm to get in the number of miles I have scheduled today, I still have many miles to go before I can turn around and head back. If I go back now I am short of my mark. I will have failed in completing my training run for today. It will put me behind schedule.

I think about the goal I’m pursuing. My first ultramarathon. It’s impossible. I’ve never run that far. I’m discouraged. I don’t even know the reason why I’m doing it. Is it for pride? Is it for glory? Oh yes, I remember. It’s to remind myself and my loved ones that I’m strong. I’m strong for them. Right now I don't feel strong. I feel weak.

I reach down deep and find the will to stand up. I brush the mud off my jacket and legs. I rub my shoulder. It hurts. I then start putting one foot in front of the other. I start back up a little more slowly than that first fall, but I move forward, once again determined.

I get into a rhythm and the miles melt away. The memory of the first two falls fade away and I really begin to enjoy the run. I stop and take a picture of a breathtaking view. I look at the camera. Hmpf, the photo doesn’t do it justice. I shrug and continue on my run, happy again for the opportunity to enjoy nature.

Time passes by. I lose track of how long I've run. I've not seen anyone on the trail except that lone hunter and that was hours ago.

I go around the corner and down an incline. I lose my footing and fall face-first into the mud. I slide a couple of feet down the muddy hill. I’m covered head to toe in the mud. My mental exhaustion from the fall surpassed my physical exhaustion. I lie there, face in the mud. I look down the trail and my mind quits. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I am immersed in misery. Drained. Empty. Not a drop of energy left. I still have a long way to go but can’t go any further.

I look down at my watch to see how many miles I’ve gone. Great, it’s dead. I know I should have charged it last night. How long have I run without noticing it? I know I still have a few more miles to go before I turn around, but how many? I become very aware that it's been raining this whole run and that I am soaked to the bone.

I’m not hurt, but it is definitely getting harder to get up again. As I prop myself up with one arm I contemplate staying on the ground. After each fall it was harder to get up, but this fall has me down. I look within myself. Is there still hope left? I can handle the running part of this, but the falling down is too much to bear.

I get back up, now motivated more by perseverance than physical strength. I wipe the mud from my face. The goal now is simply to continue, finish the run, conquer the goal, and stand at the end victorious. I switch my mile tracking to my phone, guess how much further I have to run before turning around, and then start running again.

All of my energy goes into putting one foot in front of the other. It no longer becomes a test of strength to finish the run. It is a test of will, of determination, and I will finish the run.