going the distance

I think one of the unfortunate things about life is that we're taught to think in binary terms: black vs. white, good vs. bad, winning vs. losing. There's no middle ground and no room for mistakes. You're either it or you're not. In my life, if I had to choose which side of the spectrum I was on, I'd have to say that over all, I fit mostly on the losing side. Not that I mind this, I'm just saying that this is how it is.

I see this mentality a lot in my students at Berkeley. The undergrads at Berkeley are taught that unless they are in the top 1% of their class, their lives have no real meaning. It's a sad way to live what should be a great time in your life. A student once tried to dispute the A-minus he recieved in my class. His upbringing made him believe that there are only As. Anything less would mean that you had no reason for living.

The A-minus stayed. I refused give in.

When it comes to sports, I'm definitely on the losing side of the spectrum. I'm just not a competitive person. The eye of the tiger just isn't in me. So coming in last place is a natural part of my existence. It's frustrating, but I learn to cope. But lately, during my Fit-to-Fight classes, I've been finding my self frustrated. Completely frustrated. Frustrated that everything seems so impossible to do. Frustrated that I come in last so much that there should be a tin medal waiting for me at the finish. Frustrated that my quest to work harder leaves me feeling like I'm stranded in quicksand. I can't begin to tell you how many times I feel like not getting out of bed or just throwing in the towel because I've had enough failure in my life.

But for some reason, I can't do it. I can't not get out of bed. I can't throw in the towel. I can't not finish. It's just not in me. A few entries ago, I mentioned this story about middle school P.E. Even then, while being made an example by my P.E. teacher, I still could't just walk out of class. I served the whole period. Through pain and tears, I did it. For no real reason, except that not doing something, not finishing just isn't in me. I'm just not made like that.



I never thought I'd run a marathon. But around this time last year I was preparing for the Maui Marathon. Running a marathon is something I would never do again, but I'm glad for the experience. It brought out something in me that I really needed to see. Running a marathon isn't about the time it takes you to complete the 26.2 mile journey. It's about your own personal will and desire to go the distance. Do you have the will and desire to go the distance? I didn't think I did. But looking back, I realize that I always had it in me.

It took me nine hours, a gallon of tears, and two monster-sized blisters to cross that damn finish line. I couldn't walk for three days afterward, but I did it. Even when they took the finish line down, I crossed it. The runner who was slated to come in first ran off the course and decided to drop out of the race when he realized he wasn't making the time he needed to come in first. I could have never called it quits. Even in the dreadful Maui heat, I could have never allowed myself to not cross that finish line. It's not in me. I'm not made that way.

This is what I remember and what I hold on to when I'm feeling frustrated with my workouts. When fellow classmates are passing me by, blowing me away with their athleticism, while I continue my work feeling defeated. I hold on to the fact that coming in last doesn't matter. Going the distance, having the will and desire to finish is what matters. Even on hands and knees, I'll always make it to the finish.