I want to share a story about how I was ugly crying two weeks ago. I know, super happy right? But I promise that this story has a happy ending.
Two weeks ago was my hubby’s birthday. He’s an avid outdoorsman. (Seriously, one of the things on his bucket list is to hike the tallest mountains in all 50 states). I on the other hand am not so avid (but I’m learning to love it).
On our birthdays, we get to do whatever we want to do. His choice this year was to hike to the top of a mountain. When I say mountain, I mean gaining 2,500 feet in elevation in 4.5 miles. Which, basically meant that it was straight up. the.whole.time.
Within the first half mile I was out of breath and already exhausted. I knew that this hike was going to be rough but I didn’t anticipate what would happen at the end.
The first mile took about 35 minutes. The second mile, 45 minutes. The third mile took about an hour and by this point…
Everything was hurting.
My legs were chafing.
My knees were killing me.
My heels were developing blisters.
And I started to ugly cry (which turned into hyperventilating because I couldn’t breathe.) I was a HOT MESS.
But, most of all, I was frustrated at myself. That I couldn’t do it. That it was taking me so long. That people (who were about 30 years my senior) were literally running past me.
I wanted to quit. Everything about it made me want to quit.
I encountered resistance. Actually, it felt like I was bulldozed by resistance.
At that moment, I had to make a choice. Was I going to listen to my mind and turn around? Or was I going to make it to the top despite it all?
I decided to push through resistance and keep going. That last mile took me about an hour and fifteen minutes and I prayed the rest of the way up for God to give me the strength to literally take the next step and the next step after that.
But, I did it.