I thought about what might happen if I stay a little longer.

A little longer past the inner child wounds and hurt, a little longer past the ego bursts, a little longer past the annoyance and the discomfort and the boredom and the desire for more more more. So many times I fled in the midst of this — I stopped, I retreated, I threw up my hands and I said “That’s enough for me!”

But then I started to run ultras.

The long long LONG distance. Like, 50-100 miles long.

I started to get surprise blisters and sore feet and grumpy thoughts and irritated feelings and sore muscles and queasy stoma caches. I questioned the journey and then got rerouted back in my mind to what was important to me.

I started to embody what it felt like to tend to, to move through, to pass through, to get through. To arrive at a mountain top or alongside a precious new friend on the trail or hear a bird I’ve never heard before sing out to me. To arrive at a final straightaway, to run it in, to MAKE IT to where I was headed. Without giving up. Without giving in.

So yeah, I think about what might happen if I stay a little longer. Through it all.

And I begin to believe for the very first time: it’s all growth. And it’s worth it.

Because then I arrive at intimacy. I arrive alongside the precious newness of my person or I hear a love song sung to me in a chord I hadn’t heard before. We arrive at an important life event, partnered together, to MAKE IT where we were headed. Without giving up. Without giving in.

I thought about what might happen if I stayed a little longer.

And I did.