I love the rawness of it. Truly, I do. I delight in the rough, chafed feeling. The sensation that I can do no more, that I can experience nothing else, that there is truth in my suffering, that all I am, all I can be, is wrapped up in my ability to endure.
Most times, when I submit to an endurance activity, I feel as though I have been flogged. My body absorbs the physical pain and anguish that such an experience brings, but oddly, it is my mind that creates the impression that leaves me exhausted. My body tells me that I am sore, tired, throbbing, tender. But, it is my mind that makes it so.
My intellect, my reasoning is the magician on stage. The illusion has failed, he says. The rabbit is gone from the hat. He announces that the show is over. It is time to go home. But, just as quickly, he pulls back the curtain to reveal that the illusion is real. It has not failed. The rabbit has returned to the hat. The trick, he declares, is not in the rabbit, nor the hat, nor the audience. The magic is in him, and what he believes. The magic is in the acceptance of the belief, not the performance of the trick.
I repeatedly feel fear and doubt throughout my training. I never know if I have it in me to complete a run, to finish a swim. But, I do. Somehow, I do. I experience pain. Lots of it. My body hurts. My muscles scream at me to stop. I get a dull aching feeling in my legs that cause me to question and doubt every step. And, I never know if I have the resolve to accept it and keep moving. But, I do.
I accept the fear, the doubt, the pain. And because I do, I am able to transcend it. I do not force the pain aside. Nor do I wish the fear and doubt away. I happily greet and embrace them like old friends. They are a part of who I am.
We all experience pain, whether we are endurance athletes or not. We all know suffering. Each of us has lost. Each of us has failed. But, not all of us realize the significance to the suffering. There is meaning to the misery. Our adaption and reaction to it defines us. Not only to ourselves, but to others. We become who we are by responding to and blending with it. Pain smiles at us all. All we can do is smile back.
More often, however, we rebel. We attempt to create an illusion that the pain is not there. We shift our focus and forcibly push it away. We reposition ourselves to avoid it, to cast its effects elsewhere. And that is the error. That is the illusion.
Why do this? Why confront so much adversity? Why endure? Because, in my view, it is the sole way in which to determine truth. It is the objective measure of who I am. My life is clarified and distilled by the experience of pain. It is the great equalizer. Stripped of everything except the pain and suffering of extreme endurance, I stand proud and defiant, knowing that the only thing keeping me from moving forward is myself, my illusion, the magic trick. I know who I am because I know pain.
We are, each of us, extraordinary beings. Given enough time and training, our bodies can withstand most any physical effort. It is our minds that convince us otherwise. Our minds tell us we are not capable. We convince ourselves that we cannot possibly endure. But, we can. Our intellect whispers that we aren't good enough. But, we are. Our minds warn us that we could fail. But, we don't. We succeed.
And we do so because we know that each time we push through, each time we accept the pain and suffering, each time we allow ourselves the freedom to be more than we ever thought we could be, we become ourselves.
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To donate to the Carolyn E. Miller Steps for Solace Fund, please click here. I am raising $25 thousand to provide comfort and solace to cancer patients seeking treatment.
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