SUNDAY, MARCH 26 EPILOGUE NEWMARKET
One of my pet peeves is incorrect word usage. I realize that this surprises no one who knows me or my former English teacher career. But, as with many things, I can't shake off the peeve even though my time in the classroom is well in my rear-view mirror.
Ask me about the word "historic". In this part of Canada, "historic" simply means "old." If you happen to live in an old neighbourhood of most Southern Ontario towns, you would probably refer to it as "historic", as in the "Historic Main Street" of Newmarket. Or, if you happen to own a vintage car, one that is more than, say, 25 years old, you might qualify for a license plate that sports the word "historic" on it. That one always gets my goat. Unless the love child of JFK and Marilyn Monroe was conceived on the back seat, or the plans for the D-Day invasion were finalized on a nice Sunday afternoon drive, sorry, your car is not "historic" .... it's merely old. "Historic" should mean that something momentous, something significant actually happened.
Similarly, we tend to overuse the word "exhausted". As in "I've had a rough day at work: on my feet for ten hours. So, I'll just have an early dinner, watch a little TV and get to bed early. I'm completely exhausted." Or something like this: "Man, that was a rough basketball practice today. Coach ran us up and down the floor for something like twenty minutes, followed by one-on-ones. I'm exhausted. Think I'll just play a few video games and sack out early." Sound familiar ?
I have learned the true meaning of "exhausted." Exhausted means that you have absolutely nothing left to give. There is no energy, no will to move on. You're completely played out. Your legs are rubber, your arms are useless pieces of string that hang from your shoulders. Your mind can no longer focus or concentrate on anything. Your eyes search for clarity in your surroundings, but you get none. Your ears hear sounds that are not really there, and ignore actual sounds around you. All you want to do is to sag to the earth and sleep. You stop caring. You no longer worry about what will happen to you, because what is actually happening is so gut-wrenchingly wrong and stopping and resting will cure you. You begin to feel your own body actually devour itself in a frantic search for some energy, some motivation, some will to move on.
None of this is hyperbole. I experienced it first-hand on the Kilimanjaro climb. As I withdrew from the summit, I began to feel bad, then increasingly tired, then completely unable to function. I must've looked like the old films of marathon runners in the Olympics who were so worn out, they staggered from side to side drunkenly, unable to do anything, collapsing metres short of the finish line. I wanted to collapse. Only the efforts of my guides, Stanford and Goodliving, kept me going. I would never have made it back on my own, although I suppose I was never in any real danger of dying given the fact that I wouldn't have been there without guides or other support staff. Nevertheless, I learned, for the first time in my life, what "exhaustion" really means. I hope I never feel that way again, and it is something I hope none of you ever experience.
The good news in all of this is that it was an important part of the Kilimanjaro journey. When folks ask me "why did you do this?" or "what have you learned?", there is no easy answer. I went on this trek freely, with an open mind and an open heart, ready to take whatever the mountain sent my way, and eager to take it all in. And this is what I know for sure. That it's merely a journey. Nothing more, nothing less. And that the journey surely has a finish line. No matter how difficult or how momentous the journey, the finish line always approaches. When you get there, there is really no sense of euphoria, no overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Only the certain realization that you made it, that you got there. Undoubtedly, there was help and support along the way, and it's important to acknowledge and accept that. And encouragement, too. And you have a role to play in someone else's journey also. You give encouragement, you validate what they're experiencing, and you share the good and bad. All of this is good and true.
But then, there's the finish line.
Don't worry about what's after the finish line. Just get there.
And accept the price you must pay for getting there.
Enjoy your journey !!
Ask me about the word "historic". In this part of Canada, "historic" simply means "old." If you happen to live in an old neighbourhood of most Southern Ontario towns, you would probably refer to it as "historic", as in the "Historic Main Street" of Newmarket. Or, if you happen to own a vintage car, one that is more than, say, 25 years old, you might qualify for a license plate that sports the word "historic" on it. That one always gets my goat. Unless the love child of JFK and Marilyn Monroe was conceived on the back seat, or the plans for the D-Day invasion were finalized on a nice Sunday afternoon drive, sorry, your car is not "historic" .... it's merely old. "Historic" should mean that something momentous, something significant actually happened.
Similarly, we tend to overuse the word "exhausted". As in "I've had a rough day at work: on my feet for ten hours. So, I'll just have an early dinner, watch a little TV and get to bed early. I'm completely exhausted." Or something like this: "Man, that was a rough basketball practice today. Coach ran us up and down the floor for something like twenty minutes, followed by one-on-ones. I'm exhausted. Think I'll just play a few video games and sack out early." Sound familiar ?
I have learned the true meaning of "exhausted." Exhausted means that you have absolutely nothing left to give. There is no energy, no will to move on. You're completely played out. Your legs are rubber, your arms are useless pieces of string that hang from your shoulders. Your mind can no longer focus or concentrate on anything. Your eyes search for clarity in your surroundings, but you get none. Your ears hear sounds that are not really there, and ignore actual sounds around you. All you want to do is to sag to the earth and sleep. You stop caring. You no longer worry about what will happen to you, because what is actually happening is so gut-wrenchingly wrong and stopping and resting will cure you. You begin to feel your own body actually devour itself in a frantic search for some energy, some motivation, some will to move on.
None of this is hyperbole. I experienced it first-hand on the Kilimanjaro climb. As I withdrew from the summit, I began to feel bad, then increasingly tired, then completely unable to function. I must've looked like the old films of marathon runners in the Olympics who were so worn out, they staggered from side to side drunkenly, unable to do anything, collapsing metres short of the finish line. I wanted to collapse. Only the efforts of my guides, Stanford and Goodliving, kept me going. I would never have made it back on my own, although I suppose I was never in any real danger of dying given the fact that I wouldn't have been there without guides or other support staff. Nevertheless, I learned, for the first time in my life, what "exhaustion" really means. I hope I never feel that way again, and it is something I hope none of you ever experience.
The good news in all of this is that it was an important part of the Kilimanjaro journey. When folks ask me "why did you do this?" or "what have you learned?", there is no easy answer. I went on this trek freely, with an open mind and an open heart, ready to take whatever the mountain sent my way, and eager to take it all in. And this is what I know for sure. That it's merely a journey. Nothing more, nothing less. And that the journey surely has a finish line. No matter how difficult or how momentous the journey, the finish line always approaches. When you get there, there is really no sense of euphoria, no overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Only the certain realization that you made it, that you got there. Undoubtedly, there was help and support along the way, and it's important to acknowledge and accept that. And encouragement, too. And you have a role to play in someone else's journey also. You give encouragement, you validate what they're experiencing, and you share the good and bad. All of this is good and true.
But then, there's the finish line.
Don't worry about what's after the finish line. Just get there.
And accept the price you must pay for getting there.
Enjoy your journey !!
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