Every Damn Time
At 8,300ft elevation, your determination has to be locked in because every time All Trails says 3 miles, that means it feels like at least 6 in Texas flatland.
From the moment I arrived in Colorado, I vowed to myself that every time I had days off, they would not be wasted. I would be hiking, climbing, paddleboarding, and hell, maybe even biking, every chance I got.
And after a month of being here, I can proudly say that I have honored that vow.
Many of these adventures have been solo because I won’t let chaotic coworker schedules stop me from exploring.
While I’ve honored this small part of myself, each time I inevitably find myself in the throes of giving up.
Whether it be the final incline to reach the top of the view, or the logistics of loading paddle boards onto my car. Each time, there has been a moment where doubt creeps in. Where the possible feels impossible. Where there isn’t enough canned oxygen or people willing to help, that makes me want to push through.
And yet, I have yet to turn back or to give in.
The final stretch is the test.
Where motivation fails, determination and momentum prevail.
To be .5 miles away from the end and turn back, or have 8 hours in the day to fill and spend it letting old habits hit hard, is everything I promised myself I wouldn’t do when everything I dreamed of finally found me.
I prayed for this.
I cried for this.
I worked hard for this.
I give thanks for this.
For each moment I have almost given up in the last month, there are dozens where I pushed through.
As I prepare and train for some more intense adventures in the coming month, I know that I’m not just training my body but my mind. To hit the point of doubt and to push through to the end. To have the reward of cold rushing rivers, valleys of wildflowers, and stories to tell my kids when the time comes.
And truthfully, I can say, there is no one in the world prouder of me than I am, because every damn time it just keeps getting better.