GRIT. GETS. IT.

So has 2020 really been that bad? Well, I can tell you it's to the point that having an upbeat attitude or even thinking that the pandemic is not so bad is seen as traitorous by many. It’s hard to be balanced on the issue. Instead of the caricature of an angel and devil on my shoulders arguing each of their cases, it is a different scene for me. I am tasked with the celestial role, met instead by an imp on each shoulder: shame for attempting positivity when the year has been so bad for others and guilt that the truly bad things happening to me haven't yet crushed me. Maybe it's not COVID that has made me feel socially isolated--perhaps it is that positivity is no longer culturally en vogue.

At the ceremonial start, country flags surrounded a stage in a semi-circular fashion. All the cameras were in place with drones and helicopters flying over. It was spectacular. Teams quickly learned the race was divided into five stages (Ocean, Jungle, River, Highlands, Island), with racers capturing an iconic medallion at each stage that would serve as the pass that allowed them on to the next stage. In between stages were camps where Team Assistant Crews (TACs) would set up team tents and have hot food waiting. Teams were required by the rules to spend a minimum of ninety minutes at each camp to allow for interviews if required. Additionally, teams had a sleep card rule that mandated they take a total of five sleeps of three hours each at Check Points (CPs) or camps of their choosing along the way. It was another element of strategy to consider during the race. The members of Team US Military were excited and ready to go.

We had hit the aptly-named Drunken Monkey Trail just as the sun had set, and oh boy what a trail. The gpx route was a mess, and we had no idea if we were going in the right direction because there were so many damn switchbacks.  All the while I’m just laughing and screaming at how ludicrous this trail is. I would deathgrip the bars with no braking going down each steep hill so I could preserve momentum to get up the equally steep uphill. Joshua did something similar, but the noise of his fully-loaded handlebar and seat bags’ tire rub replaced my screams and laughs.  By hills, these inclines and declines were so rapid as to take less than a few seconds each, but the grade was always at least 20% or more. It was all so absurd to do on fully loaded mountain bikes; this seemed like a trail for dirt jumpers.

Fear, instinctual and undeniable in all of us, surrounds the unknown. And a sure-fire way to summon the unknown and all the fear that comes with it into existence is to aspire to bring about change in our own lives. Make no mistake—aspiration is itself a rebellious provocation of fear; it is neither for the dutiful nor the cowardly. I’ve not met a single person that drastically bettered their lives that didn’t have to face down fears of their own. To choose it requires a form of intractable courage. In the words of Mark Twain, “Courage is not the lack of fear. It is acting in spite of it.”