My nephew Dan ran a 100 mile marathon in less than 24 hours a few weeks back. It’s his Everest, I guess. They say when asking people who climb Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world, why they would undertake such a harrowing, dangerous task they often respond, “Because it’s there.”
We all have our “Everests.” It’s that thing that is there waiting for the challenge to be undertaken and conquered. It’s that thing that keeps us going in life and warrants a second look to consider how we might rise above the greatest challenge. An Everest can be as simple as an elderly person physically challenged trying to conquer a step count or as harrowing as a fight for survival in the wilderness of uncertainty.
It took a village to conquer Dan’s “Everest.” My nieces were on it for him. They went through “training” and watched videos Dan made for the process. There were meeting points along the route where people could attend to the runners to ensure they were eating and getting the proper care they needed. It was a little village. My niece posted times for people to be there and each one of his family members took a spot.
I’m in awe of people who can take it to another level like Dan. There’s a drive, a faith in himself that delivers a good dose of optimism and inspires the average viewer to see more. I’m in awe of those who rise to the challenge of survival on life’s terms and conquer the Everest of doubt. Doubt is conquered through annihilating the mental obstacles and illusions placed in our way on a daily basis.
I stopped by with my sisters to see him on his run. We saw him coming through a leafy wood at mile 66, drenched to the bone with his satchel that held empty water bottles. His friend Pat, who flew in from Boston to run with Dan part of the way, was patiently waiting for his old high school pal. A smattering of applause went out and Dan was smiling and kind as he met his sister Mary, his chief assistant in the grueling feat, who gave him moist towels and a fresh set of water bottles. Pat was supposed to run with him for 21 miles, he ended up running 34. Dan couldn’t have done it without him.
There were a few times Dan wanted to give up, but Pat wouldn’t let him saying, “You’ll regret it if you quit.” Pat suffered a little bit by helping Dan through the rough parts and letting his friend lean on him as he struggled down hills. He paid a price for it with a sore shoulder. Friends let you lean on them, but this is next level.
Sometimes the Everest we’re facing is having the courage to move on after losing a loved one. The pain is so great and it consumes you night and day. You forget to eat, you isolate, you ponder “the ‘should’ves’ and ‘could’ves’ until you should’ve all over yourself.” Meantime, the meal trains come and people are there to support you. They make sure you’re attending to the business of staying alive and caring for your needs with a ministry of presence.
I surmise, it’s not a matter of being conditioned to acquiesce to overcoming fear. It’s taking on the seemingly impossible and meeting it with a candor of being true to one’s self and walking the razor’s edge of worldly realities and pulling the rip cord of personal potentiality.
When I was Dan’s age, I took a year off from work to journey across the country. I didn’t know where it would take me, but I felt like I needed to do it. I was shamed by someone because he thought it caused my mother to worry unnecessarily, but my mother knew I felt the call to do it and supported it unconditionally.
The journeys we make in life are plenty. Either we’re running away from something or toward something and that’s for each of us to figure out. The wise ones understand this and support the call, mindful like a good Gandalf that the journey is the goal in the attainment of the ring.
Storybooks are filled with heroes conquering the dragon that threatens their existence. In Melville’s “Moby Dick” Ahab is looking for that white whale of significance. Much of the book is spent searching for it and Melville writes about the diversions along the way during the quest. Some of the characters question why they took the journey and were reeled in to a madman’s personal quest. Some perish in the midst of that quest and their unanswered unexamined lives fade away like a cloud dissipating into the atmosphere, but Ishmael sees something others don’t see. It’s deeply personal and enriches him as he’s escaped the wreckage, hence the reason for the story in the first place. The last line in the book determines that there is futility in such obsession and sometimes our obsessions leave wrecks for others to clean up.
Then again, no work is wasted in our pursuit of spiritual understanding and each adventure offers its own reward. Many have died in the pursuit of conquering, and God only knows what they were thinking in their last hours. No doubt, it’s delivered an understanding that was meant to be delivered at some point in life. Nonetheless, the measure of our fulfillment is determined by the deeper quests for understanding and asking the fundamental questions that nourish our desires for fulfillment and Oneness.
spirit beat 