On Resolve

Compared to some of the other athletic endeavors I’ve encountered, walking is fairly easy. It’s very rare that we find ourselves in a place where we can’t put one foot in front of the other. That’s why this moment was particularly disheartening. We were struggling up a well-worn trail, the Salkantay, in the Andes. It’s a little known fact that while Machu Picchu is on a mountain top, it’s actually in a depression relative to most of the surrounding areas. Most people who visit Peru make a pilgrimage terminating at Machu Picchu, meaning that while difficult, the weary travelers ultimately experience a loss in altitude during their journey. In other words, they’re going downhill more than uphill. My party decided to go the opposite way. This decision was mostly due to time constraints, but looking back I think it was also a result of ignorance to aforementioned geographic features.

It was the last day of our three day trek and I was struggling mightily under the weight of a mostly empty pack at about 13,000 feet. That morning, wild dogs had stolen our food for the day, so I was suffering a pretty serious caloric deficit. I dug my trekking poles into the ground and hoisted myself up with my arms and shoulders, my legs lacked the strength to carry my weight. Incapable of keeping any consistent pace, no matter how slow, I had to develop strategies to keep myself going. I settled on 45 seconds of walking followed by 15 seconds of rest. This pace even felt more than I could handle. Two others had gone ahead, concerned that we would miss the driver waiting for us at the terminus. Aaron and I served as each other’s carrots, each leading the other for a time, before changing positions. Oxygen depletion and exhaustion were playing tricks on my senses, I barely knew where I was. I stalled for a little while. Aaron came up from behind and took his place by my side.

“Clint, I haven’t known you for very long, but from what I’ve seen of your life, I know one thing about you. There is no quit in you.”

Empowered by his encouragement and my survival instinct, I continued up the mountain. We hit the final pass a brief period later, much to my relief. We snapped pictures and celebrated our victory. The descent down the back side of that final climb wasn’t easy, but at least it was downhill. We arrived to a Peruvian trail guide waving flags and screaming that he needed to meet the crazy mother******s (His words, not mine, although mine may not have been entirely dissimilar at that point) who completed a four day trip in three days, backwards. This was a few months after my mother passed, and I desperately needed a win. I remember looking back through the window of our van at that mountain, a symbol that I could still accomplish something wonderful.

I think Aaron misjudged me that day. I have a history of giving up on many things fairly easily. This is one of the qualities I find most disappointing in myself. However, Aaron’s words made me believe that I could change this part of me. I determined that if there was a single person in the world who saw me in that light, I could become a person with grit, determination and no quit. Although I saw Aaron’s words as totally off-base and lacking insight, I decided to make them prophetic. Those words have echoed in my head for nearly a year now.

“There is no quit in you.”

So, I’ve resolved to fight the challenges that are thrown in front of me. I get discouraged, and I sometimes cope in ways that I wish I wouldn’t, but I fight. I refuse to be brought down. I refuse to be broken. There are just a few problems with this resolution.

It’s exhausting. Not long ago, I ended up in conflict with a close friend. I couldn’t figure out why we had come to this place. Then I realized that I’ve been in a defensive, battle-ready posture for over two years. When I face harsh criticism or rejection I dig in my heels and anticipate or engage conflict. Not only is this hard on relationships, but it’s exhausting. Constantly preparing for the next battle drains a lot of emotional and physical resources. Next, I’ve begun to identify too closely with my toughness. Grace, love, acceptance, patience: These are characteristics to truly aspire toward. A stubborn refusal to be hurt? Not so much. Sometimes it’s the pain and hurt that make their way into our lives that do the best job of shaping us into who we should be. Another issue I have is stubborn loyalty or resolve to fix situations that just aren’t working. This is actually one place where my past actions directly contradict my perception that I give up easily. The hallmark of this shortcoming in my life has been in romantic relationships. I just don’t know when to quit. I know this has resulted in a tremendous amount of heartache both for me and a couple of women in my life.

There’s one last problem with always needing to hold things together: Sometimes we need to be broken. Greek mythology gives us two amazing examples of beings that are destroyed to make way for new beings. The first is the Phoenix, which bursts into flames and is rebirthed. The second is the story of Halcyon, a woman who loses her love and, heartbroken, throws herself from a cliff. She is raised and reborn as a beautiful kingfisher.

In the Christian faith, we are called to die to ourselves and be reborn in Christ. This isn’t a decision we make once, when we give our lives over to Christ. It’s a decision that we have to make every day. Just like I’ve found myself embattled with friends and family at times. I’ve embattled myself with God. I currently view being brought down or broken as the one thing I will not accept. This makes all problems mine to handle, rather than handing them over to God. I’m also starting to get the feeling at God is pretty set on breaking me. I think he wants to convince me that my life and my problems are not mine to handle. Rather than accepting his grace and love in such a time, my petty ego is insulted that he’s trying to make a point. In short, I think I may be in a battle of wills with God. I’ll let you know how that turns out.

A few months ago, I was out on a company retreat and we were racing around a ranch in off-road go-carts. On straightaways, I had the pedal set against the floor, the speedometer pegged at its max. I slid in and out of turns wildly, exhilarated by the speed and tiptoeing along the line between control and recklessness. My passenger and I switched positions. Although his driving was markedly similar to my own, I was in a complete panic. He never would have known, but I was miserable. The same experience that was invigorating to me moments ago was now terrifying, merely because I did not have control. As we skidded around a corner, my friend oversteered slightly. Our front, passenger side wheel dug into the soft grass just on the inside of the turn and our forward momentum became sideways momentum. It felt like an eternity from when I saw what was happening in my mind to when the roll became a reality. I felt my shoulder and face slam into the ground harshly and the strange unweighting of doing a full flip. We landed with the wheels on the ground, stunned but okay. Our worst case scenario was pretty much realized. There was some damage to the vehicle, which we were regretful to report, but we were alright, albeit sore for a couple of days. I let go, we crashed, but we learned some lessons.

This may be where I am in life right now. I may need to let go and let someone else drive for a spell. Life may get still harder for a moment, but may be better in the long run. Have you ever battled God, or simply life’s circumstances for control? Are you doing it now? How do you think you can let go? What do you think would happen if you did?