Sidebar: Final Thoughts
There’s this image of Will I can’t get out of my bed.
Perched on a ledge, his legs and fashionably plaid shorts dangling over the edge; below them, a 12-foot drop into sand. His brown Hollister shirt sopping in his perspiration, like he just pulled it from a bath drawn from his own sweat. Water beads dot his eyebrows. His tired hands shake as they clutch the hard rock.
He silently counts to himself, psyching himself up for the drop. “One, two, three…” But his butt doesn’t move. It remains rooted, still as stone, like any of the rock formations we’ve encountered in Zion. “So,” he said. “That didn’t work.”
Then he turned back to me.
“I can’t do it.”
The fact he was in this spot at all – not sipping water, patiently waiting for our return at the beginning of the trail, still shocked me. Getting here, twelve feet of gravity between him and the ground, required him to climb the distance a few hours ago, white knuckling, tip-toeing, and heel hooking his way up the red rock.
After that, the bouldering problems got real hard. Yet he traversed every barrier we traversed, accomplishing the goals via alternative means, but conquering them nonetheless. Slowly but relatively smoothly, until now.
I shrugged, and looked around. The sun was starting to duck behind the wall of rock behind him. We still hadn’t found a place to camp, so if we were lucky, we’d pitch the tent with the last snatches of sun beam on our backs. If we were unlucky, Will would be getting booted off that ledge and we’d set up camp in darkness.
You don’t have much of a choice, I told him. It’s getting dark, and we need to head back. We can’t stay here forever.
Seeing him there reminded me of this scene from, Gattaca, with Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman. Hawke’s character needs to avoid the authorities, and behind him, he drags a reluctant Uma Thurman, who’s ragged breathing can’t quite catch up to her physical exertion. She suffers from a heart condition, and when they finally collapse behind a wall, she gasps, “Don’t you understand? I can’t do that.”
And Hawke replies, “You just did.”
As I planned this road trip I couldn’t help but feel relieved I was doing it with two friends. I’d never be able to road trip across the country, schlep all my belongings out west on my own, I reasoned to myself. How would I handle all the driving, or go camping by myself? Wasn’t it a safety issue, sleeping alone in the wilderness? Those questions nagged at me, all the unknown variables that pricked like nettles for someone who needs at least some semblance of a plan to get through his day. I truly believed I wasn’t capable of doing it.
And I was right.
You’re not capable of doing anything until you’ve done it.
A few months ago I went through the same mental gyration about moving out west at all, with or without other people. It was a terrible idea, I thought, abandoning a stable lifestyle to become destitute and broke. I’d never be able to leave everyone and everything familiar behind. I was simply incapable of such a task – until I did it, that is.
Will wasn’t capable of shimmying through tight spaces, and conquering those bouldering problems… until he did.
Just as he wouldn’t be capable of taking that twelve foot drop. Until after a 15-minute psych-up session, I watched him slowly edge his butt off the ledge… stick one precarious leg out into the air, and let go.
He fell.
He fell hard, air punching out of his lungs like pulling a nail from a tire. His mass collapsed on his knees, more force than he expected. He rolled into the dirt and groaned, disbelief at the feat that just moments ago, he couldn’t do.
Related posts:
- Sidebar: The Struggle He said he needed to get out. Out of Albany, out from his family, who...
- Sidebar: Breaking Falls The good news: my foot broke the bike’s fall. If I irreparably damaged Teddy’s two...
- Sidebar: The Contact List “It’s all about who you know.” Not that truth isn’t buried in this concept, but...
Leave a Reply