Growing up in a majority world country, I had to live without a number of the comforts available in the United States (For me, this mostly revolved around the loss of my one true passion in life: baseball). High Road, however, was a big wake up call.
I signed up not knowing what exactly I was getting into. In my mind I had some vague perceptions of canoeing, archery, rock climbing, etc. To be honest, though, I think the main reason I signed up was because I was afraid of being left out of something that "everyone else" was doing.
This post is not meant to be a detailed story of what I experienced those 16 days. I was shocked to discover that I would, in fact, be spending the entire time in the woods, exposed to the elements and carrying everything I brought (minus my watch) plus a number of pounds of food and camping gear with me on 10-15 mile hikes each day.
(Just a side note, I was 5'10" and weighed about 117 pounds when I went on this trip)
I was beyond "stretched" on this trip. The only thing that kept me together was a fear of what others would think. I was determined not be a total tool and whine and complain. (Though I am sure now that my overwhelmed self showed through in a number of ways.) What would people think of me if I couldn't handle my own?
There are many stories that could be told from the canoeing and hiking we did. But I made it through to the end, with only one challenge left to complete before being able to sleep in real beds and eat real food: a 13 mile run.
Before this run, I had never done more than 4 miles before. Sure, they had sent out materials that summer encouraging us to be in shape, running regularly, etc. etc. But seriously? What was the big deal? Who needs to run every day to hang out at a camp for two weeks?
This run was so brutal yet I wanted to impress people with my running skills. I started off trying to keep up with the leaders (which included my future roommate). After a short while (indeed, a very short while) it became clear that I would not make it long with them. So I slowed down.
Still, I wanted to make it the whole way without stopping. This would be my great achievement and I wanted to brag about it. It didn't take too long before I failed even this goal. When I was not near anyone, I would stop and walk. Then before rounding the next corner, I would start running again.
Near the end of the run (though I didn't know it was near the end at the time) I ended up running next to one of the guys from my group, Dave. Ironically, Dave had not been someone I had really liked on the trip. I perceived him as someone who didn't think I was cool enough to be a friend.
Yet there we were, running next to each other. And more than that, Dave was encouraging me to keep running. Every time I would start to slow down or want to give up, he'd encourage me to keep going.
I made it at least a mile or two further than I would have on my own because of Dave's encouragement. But even that didn't help me get all the way. I stopped running and started walking again, this time not caring if I was seen. I was too tired. Dave ran on.
Then I began to hear something. It sounded like there was a baseball game or something up a head. There was a lot of voices. At first I couldn't tell if they were happy, upset, or what. As I got closer and as people passed me on the run, I started to realize this a crowd of people cheering for people as they finished the race.
I was that close! Energized by the closeness of the end (and not a little by a sense of shame should I be seen walking across the finish line) I started running again.
The voices got louder and louder. The sense of joy grew stronger and stronger. Finally, I rounded the final bend and I could see them.
A huge banner was posted that declared congratulations for finishing the race. A hundred or more people stood around in a semi-circle cheering and hollering. Their faces were full of smiles. There were trip leaders and staff members with looks of approval and commendation for the feat that we had just finished. And even more joyful were the group of fellow group members who waiting for me. Not all of my group had finished but half had. They were there and gave an especially loud cheer for me as I came to the end of my long and painful run.
I was embraced, congratulated, and lead to a table full of fruit and water and other delights I had not seen for two weeks.
I cannot describe this experience well enough. To describe joy, true joy, is perhaps the greatest challenge in writing and I am no prize winning author. But this experience is one of the strongest memories of joy that I have.
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