Life Lived Between the end Points: Reflections on GORUCK Selection 021

Did you see me crying at that fire? 

I was dejected in my friend’s arms, sobbing so hard I couldn’t catch my breath.

Do you wonder what I was thinking about during that moment I couldn’t speak and Jason shooed the camera away asking to give me some space and dignity and everyone else was still playing baseball and the world collapsed and the stars dimmed?

Did you see that?

When the sky darkened?

Do you wonder what I was thinking about?

I was thinking about you.

It was last summer. 

We were heading outside, transitioning from lunch to afternoon play time when you looked at me holding the door open and said, “Where is your backpack? Don’t you want to be stronger?” I laughed and said, “Good question, I should put it on!” I spent the next hour digging holes with you and a bunch of your pre-k classmates; helping you skip monkey bars and scale trees. 

The night I failed my fifth attempt at GORUCK Selection, I thought you may be watching, so I wiped my tears away with a mud-covered hand and said I was ok, even though the night collapsed around me.

Did you see my focused eyes when I was low crawling through the swamps?

Do you wonder what I was thinking about?

I was thinking about you.

Face in the mud, slithering one inch at a time, I focused on you. I knew those moments, the ones where I was weak and struggling, would end. I told you that I wouldn’t give up during the hard times. I told you that you shouldn’t give up during those moments of doubt either. I had to show you what that looked like. I promised you I wouldn’t self-select; I would never quit. I assured you that I wouldn’t give in until the end. I didn’t. I hope I made you proud.

Could you see that I carried something invisible, something heavier than the ruck and the sandbags combined?

Do you wonder how much it all weighed, and what I was thinking about?

I was thinking about you.

You said, “You have crossed a line, you have broken with the path of common sense and logic and decided to pursue this victory at great personal cost. You are in a realm governed by faith and uncompromising belief. Cultivate within yourself an unshakable determination to win whatever the cost. Those of us following you need to know that with enough hard work, grit, and an unrelenting positive mindset we can achieve what we set out to accomplish.”

When I was carrying more than my own body weight, it didn’t feel so heavy. What felt heavy was knowing that you were watching, praying, hoping. I was reflecting on what personal cost really was. During this GORUCK Selection, nothing was personal anymore.

Some time in the last six years, the cost transformed into a benefit. The failures transformed into humility, friendships, lessons learned.

What started as an individual challenge, a selfish pursuit, vanished and morphed into a public campaign. From colleagues and friends all over the world, to multiple CrossFit communities, swim teams, and running clubs, to my family, my husband (and his extensive network of Brothers and friends) to my hair dresser(s), my acupuncturists, massage therapists, coaches, and everyone who knew me, my support spanned generations and continents. People who didn’t even know what GORUCK Selection was, were cheering for me to finish. 

If weight were measured in love, then I was carrying it all. 

That is heavy.

Looking back, my first four attempts at Selection weren’t like this.

The first three times I participated (classes 015, 017, and 018), I was a student. I learned about my body, mind and self. I read about the previous finishers, the cadre, Special Operations Forces, American history, and how to train for the toughest endurance race around.

Then, my fourth attempt came. What I thought would be my final go at Selection (class 019), was just as elusive as the previous three attempts.

Selection (class 021), my fifth attempt, was supposed to be my swan song. It was meant to be the triumph, the end that I had envisioned. I’d stand in front of the American flag and everyone would be inspired.

Instead, I sat in front of a fire, watching the flames dance into that dark sky and disappear. I stared into the void where the embers went, trying to stomach an abrupt finish, unrealized dreams, and a community seeing this happen for the fifth time.

Did they all wonder what I was thinking about?

I was thinking about them.

Though I felt sadness, I was humbled. I wanted to be gracious, and show people that the end isn’t what matters most, it is the life lived in between the end points that determines who you are. The ultimate end will come to us all, but what we do in the meantime is the magic. This is where we fail and grow, and learn to love others more than we love ourselves. This is where we see that all endings are beginnings too.

And so comes another end. 

Do you wonder what will come next?

A great number of things, I hope. I envision mountain summits, adventures in foreign lands with my love, ultra endurance races, and a 300# deadlift. But for now I’ll rest easy, wrapped in the love and kindness you’ve all shown me over the years. Thank you.