"Why are you home early?"

Within an hour of my return to Montgomery, I was asked this question for the first time. I expect to hear it many times by the end of the week. The answer is both complex and simple. The simple version is that one member of our hiking party had medical problems that made it impossible to continue. His toes had blisters the second day and were bleeding the third day and a more personal condition had developed and was bleeding as well. These things happen and many other possible injuries and equipment failures can bring a hike to a sudden end. For those who have never hiked an extensive section of the Appalachian Trail, it is difficult to comprehend the difficulty of the footing on rocky trails that are either going up or down at a steep angle most of the time. It is very, very different from walking 15 miles on your local park walking track. Also, you can't just stop by the CVS for bandages or drugs. You have to decide before you leave which of those you will carry with you and how much weight you are willing to add to your pack in order to be prepared.
The more complex answer involves the interpersonal skills and struggles required to plan, organize, and implement such a hike. The communication required demands absolute honesty with yourself and the others in the party about physical condition, equipment, goals, desires, and flexibility (of attitude). In our case, we had a plan that could work but would be very, very challenging. What most people do not understand is that the process is not over for us. We will rehash and analyze the hike for some time. And future hikes will depend to some extent on how honest and direct we are with each other during this process. As I have been thinking about our hike, the following quote by Theodore Roosevelt came to mind. I think it applies well to our effort. Can you see applications in your life?

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is not effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually try to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.
Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."

THE RACE

I noticed this morning that I have 99 blog posts archived. So, I wanted to make number 100 special. I have just read this poem and was moved to tears by it. There is so much I would like to say about the meaning but the poem is long so I will just leave my comments to this brief introduction. If there is somewhere you have to be in two minutes, just wait and come back later. You will need a few minutes to process the meaning for your life.

.

.

THE RACE

by DEE GROBERG

.

"QUIT! GIVE UP YOU'RE BEATEN!"

THEY SHOUT AT ME AND PLEAD.

"THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH AGAINST YOU NOW.

THIS TIME YOU CAN'T SUCCEED."

.

AND AS I START TO HANG MY HEAD

IN FRONT OF FAILURE'S FACE,

MY DOWNWARD FALL IS BROKEN BY

THE MEMORY OF A RACE.

.

AND HOPE REFILLS MY WEAKENED WILL

AS I RECALL THAT SCENE;

FOR JUST THE THOUGHT OF THAT SHORT RACE

REJUVENATES MY BEING.

.

A CHILDREN'S RACE--YOUNG BOYS, YOUNG MEN--

HOW I REMEMBER WELL.

EXCITEMENT, SURE! BUT ALSO FEAR;

IT WASN'T HARD TO TELL.

.

THEY ALL LINED UP SO FULL OF HOPE;

EACH THOUGHT TO WIN THAT RACE.

OR TIE FOR FIRST, OR IF NOT THAT,

AT LEAST TAKE SECOND PLACE.

.

AND FATHERS WATCHED FROM OFF THE SIDE

EACH CHEERING FOR HIS SON.

AND EACH BOY HOPED TO SHOW HIS DAD

THAT HE WOULD BE THE ONE.

.

THE WHISTLE BLEW AND OFF THEY WENT,

YOUNG HEARTS AND HOPES AFIRE.

TO WIN AND BE THE HERO THERE

WAS EACH YOUNG BOY'S DESIRE.

.

AND ONE BOY IN PARTICULAR,

WHOSE DAD WAS IN THE CROWD,

WAS RUNNING NEAR THE LEAD AND THOUGHT:

"MY DAD WILL BE SO PROUD!"

.

BUT AS THEY SPED DOWN THE FIELD

ACROSS A SHALLOW DIP,

THE LITTLE BOY WHO THOUGHT TO WIN

LOST HIS STEP AND SLIPPED.

.

TRYING HARD TO CATCH HIMSELF,

HIS HANDS FLEW OUT TO BRACE,

BUT MID THE LAUGHTER OF THE CROWD

HE FELL FLAT ON HIS FACE.

.

SO DOWN HE FELL AND WITH HIM HOPE

HE COULDN'T WIN IT NOW--

EMBARRASSED, SAD, HE ONLY WISHED

TO DISAPPER SOMEHOW.

.

BUT AS HE FELL HIS DAD STOOD UP,

AND SHOWED HIS ANXIOUS FACE,

WHICH TO THE BOY SO CLEARLY SAID,

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

.

HE QUICKLY ROSE, NO DAMAGE DONE,

BEHIND A BIT, THAT'S ALL--

AND RAN WITH ALL HIS MIND AND MIGHT

TO MAKE UP FOR HIS FALL.

.

SO ANXIOUS TO RESTORE HIMSELF

TO CATCH UP AND TO WIN--

HIS MIND WENT FASTER THAN HIS LEGS;

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

.

HE WISHED THEN HE HAD QUIT BEFORE,

WITH ONLY ONE DISGRACE.

"I'M HOPELESS AS A RUNNER NOW;

I SHOULDN'T TRY TO RACE."

.

BUT IN THE LAUGHING CROWD HE SEARCHED

AND FOUND HIS FATHER'S FACE;

THAT STEADY LOOK WHICH SAID AGAIN:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

.

SO UP HE JUMPED TO TRY AGAIN

TEN YARDS BEHIND THE LAST--

"IF I'M TO GAIN THOSE YARDS," HE THOUGHT,

"I'VE GOT TO MOVE REAL FAST."

.

EXERTING EVERYTHING HE HAD

HE REGAINED EIGHT OR TEN,

BUT TRYING SO HARD TO CATCH THE LEAD

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

.

DEFEAT! HE LAY THERE SILENTLY

A TEAR DROPPED FROM HIS EYE--

"THERE'S NO SENSE RUNNING ANYMORE;

THREE STRIKES: I'M OUT! WHY TRY!"

.

THE WILL TO RISE HAD DISAPPEARED;

ALL HOPE HAD FLED AWAY;

SO FAR BEHIND, SO ERROR PRONE;

A LOSER ALL THE WAY.

.

"I'VE LOST, SO WHAT'S THE USE," HE THOUGHT.

"I'LL LIVE WITH MY DISGRACE."

BUT THEN HE THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DAD

WHO SOON HE'D HAVE TO FACE.

.

"GET UP," AN ECHO SOUNDED LOW.

"GET UP AND TAKE YOUR PLACE;

YOU WERE NOT MEANT FOR FAILURE HERE.

GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

.

"WITH BORROWED WILL GET UP," IT SAID,

"YOU HAVEN'T LOST AT ALL.

FOR WINNING IS NO MORE THAN THIS:

TO RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL."

.

SO UP HE ROSE TO RUN ONCE MORE,

AND WITH A NEW COMMIT

HE RESOLVED THAT WIN OR LOSE

AT LEAST HE WOULDN'T QUIT.

.

SO FAR BEHIND THE OTHERS NOW,

THE MOST HE'D EVER BEEN--

STILL HE GAVE IT ALL HE HAD

AND RAN AS THOUGH TO WIN.

.

THREE TIMES HE'D FALLEN, STUMBLING;

THREE TIMES HE ROSE AGAIN;

TOO FAR BEHIND TO HOPE TO WIN

HE STILL RAN TO THE END.

.

THEY CHEERED THE WINNING RUNNER,

AS HE CROSSED THE LINE FIRST PLACE.

HEAD HIGH, AND PROUD, AND HAPPY;

NO FALLING, NO DISGRACE.

.

BUT WHEN THE FALLEN YOUNGSTER

CROSSED THE LINE LAST PLACE,

THE CROWD GAVE HIM THE GREATER CHEER,

FOR FINISHING THE RACE.

.

AND EVEN THOUGH HE CAME IN LAST,

WITH HEAD BOWED LOW, UNPROUD,

YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT HE'D WON THE RACE

TO LISTEN TO THE CROWD.

.

AND TO HIS DAD HE SADLY SAID,

"I DIDN'T DO TOO WELL."

"TO ME, YOU WON," HIS FATHER SAID.

"YOU ROSE EACH TIME YOU FELL."

.

AND NOW WHEN THINGS SEEM DARK AND HARD

AND DIFFICULT TO FACE,

THE MEMORY OF THAT LITTLE BOY

HELPS ME IN MY RACE.

.

FOR ALL OF LIFE IS LIKE THAT RACE,

WITH UPS AND DOWNS AND ALL.

AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN,

IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL.