I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel accomplished and content until I am satisfied with the results of my own efforts, however long it takes.
It was a sunny, early August day in 1976. In honor of USA's bicentennial, a group of us decided to go on top of a tall mountain and plant the Stars and Stripes--our national flag. There were 8 of us driving from San Francisco to climb Mt. Whitney in Southern California. All the sleeping bags, food supplies, toiletries and miscellaneous items were carefully checked and re-caclulated to ensure our survival during the climb and back.
I had been in this country for about a year then and was not inducted into the grandness of these United States of America and her natural landscape as well as beauty. I had just finished my 150th mile jogging the week before preparing for this hike to 10,000 feet above sea level.
About 2 hours into the climb I turned around during our recess and my jaw dropped! Why are we still at the bottom? The 7-mile hike should be a cinch, but no, very soon my chest was heaving and the feeling of being stabbed over and over by a sharp knife would not relent. More breaks, more rest stops. The elevation was getting to all of us. Nature was flaunting the power of height and the thinning of oxygen. We were aching, feeling slithered and almost totally defeated by the mountain and the lack of air!
After lunch some of us were discouraged. We were all in great physical condition and were proud of our prowess as jocks. We needed no guide on this mountain because we WERE GOOD for it. The eery afternoon was silent. I heard only the struggling breaths of myself and my climbing party. One foot forward, then another, and another. A little light came into our quiet despair around 2 p.m. We saw the peak and we were half way there. I ached so horrifically all over and the nausea had begun to interfere with ability to breathe. None of us gave in to our inadequacies, we'd rather die!
Around 8:30 p.m., we looked at one another and let out the loudest cry! Yes, yes, yes, yes! A lot of crying and laughing, even weeping came over us. We were high. We were standing on the peak of Mount Whitney--10,150 feet above sea level. Then as if we had rehearsed, we all scurried and scattered and found a quiet spot alone in this peak and started "zen-like" personal, private meditations. 9 p.m., 14 hours after we set foot on this mountain, the sun had set almost completely, our collective hunger warranted a strike on this exquisite moment of personal reflection.
I recalled crying by myself in joy: recounting and retracing the agonizing steps through the entire day. I wrote in my journal and I quote,"Is there anything more precious to me than the over-whelming content feeling of accomplishing something well with all of my efforts?"
Stepping out to walk to fight pain 7 weeks ago was not a flippant or temporal idea. It was a conscious and deliberate attempt to try to ease my physical pain. It was my last-straw effort in the fight of a savaging illness that has robbed so much of my life. I gave walking no chance to fail. And it can't fail. The journey of these past 150 miles was wrought with great risks and a massive amount of gnawing pain those first days. I am starting to reap the benefits of high levels of endorphin and my pain is under my thumb and my feet, literally. My walking now reminded me of our Mt. Whitney hike 35 years ago.
What lied ahead 35 years ago after we reached the top of an enormously tall mountain was the cold, dark night; and of course, the descent the following day. On that dark mountain and ice-cold night I was again face-to-face with the unfathomable power of nature and my own vast limitations in every turn. It's a miracle we all made it down the next day. The encounter with Mt. Whitney had a profound effect on the 8 of us. Somehow we emerged from the mountaintop different, perhaps we were worn and weathered a bit, just a bit, no more cockiness. We piled into our vehicles in total exhaustion as well as sweet contentment heading north, singing most of our way.
The feeling of content accomplishment has no fanfare and needs no audience and applause. It is absolutely silent and private. I am there.
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