Perspective

It was hard to keep my eyes off the ground as I forged ahead along the trail. Roots and rocks protruded up through the earth everywhere, making the terrain an obstacle in itself. Ahead of me, I could see bright colors and hear people talking as they made their way along the course, but no one I recognized. I listened half-heartedly to a man somewhere behind me who was making jokes and chanting encouragement to fellow runners. He caught sight of my name, scribbled across my back, and shouted a few encouraging words to me, which helped my mood a little. For at least two miles, he was the only friend I had... or so it seemed.

It was a 3.5 mile mud run. I began the race with several friends and we had all planned to stick together through the run. At some point after disappointing myself by giving up on an obstacle because of my irrational fears, I found myself alone. Discouragement, mixed with equal parts humidity and rough terrain, slowed my pace to an unmotivated walk. Surely someone would wait, once they realized I was missing.

My active imagination and I had a ball coming up with scenarios as we walked. Scenarios involving me being left in the Poconos, still forgotten by my friends. Scenarios of conversations that could be happening ahead ("Where's Stoney?", "I haven't seen her since the first obstacle"), and conversations I wanted to have with a select few, ("I went back for you the last time we raced and you left me!")

When I caught sight of the 20-foot wall ahead - an obstacle we were to climb with ropes - a few things happened at once. I made the easy decision to walk around the obstacle without even attempting it. I allowed people to pass me, slowing down with an oppressive feeling of defeat. And I heard a faint voice behind me calling my name. I turned around, a bit disoriented, knowing the voice but not expecting it to be coming from that direction, and saw my friend KC.

KC had left me behind two miles ago. I was confused. I asked her, "how did you get back here?" And then, after 2 miles of walking and pouting, I learned what really happened. When I had given up on the first obstacle, KC and several others were still on it. When I pushed forward, wallowing in my self-doubt, they were falling further behind, caught in a bottleneck at the obstacle, wondering why I hadn't waited.

The last part of the race was much more fun. KC by my side. A few others joined her in talking me over the cargo nets - another obstacle of height that I was about to give up on. They talked me over it. Encouragement is so powerful! It was their words and reassurance that gave me the courage to keep climbing up, to put my leg over the top and make my way down the other side.

I always tell my kids just because you didn't mean to hurt someone doesn't mean you shouldn't apologize if you do. After we crossed the finish line and posed for a few pictures, I sought out the person I was planning to confront for leaving me. I apologized for being angry at him. He didn't know I was angry, but I still wanted to apologize. After all, I had left him behind.