Lessons on the Grind

I had a profound experience on Saturday.  Before I reveal that experience, let me give you some background information.  My training partner Carol-Ann and I made plans last week to hike the Grouse Grind on the weekend.

For those of you not familiar with the Grouse Grind, it’s a brutal 2.9 kilometre trail up the side of Grouse Mountain.  There are 2830 stairs and markers every quarter of the way to tell you where you are.

When Carol-Ann and I started talking about it at work (we are team members at work) people were shocked that we were planning to do it.  Every person I spoke to commented on how hard it is; that we’d be sore and wished us good luck with a grimace.  Some told us of how they had attempted it and for some reason never made it past the ¼ mark.  As the week wore on I began to wonder about our sanity.  We had been training really hard for almost a month in the gym, three days of weights and two days of cardio.  When we had made the decision to conquer the Grind, I had felt certain we could do it.

By Friday I jokingly told team members that I may require them to push me around in my chair on Monday or to watch out for the flares coming off the side of the mountain on Saturday morning.  The only thing that kept me on target was my training partner, who I had committed to doing the hike with. 

So with doubts I cleaned my house on Friday night in case I couldn’t move Saturday afternoon and settled in for the night, setting my alarm clock for the crack of early.  When I woke up to the horrible sound of my alarm clock on Saturday morning, I showered, dressed and ate, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach and that voice inside of my head quietly chanting “crazy”.

 

I got to Carol-Ann’s and we drove to Grouse Mountain together, both clearly a little nervous.  Just seeing her and how far she had come with her training in the recent weeks, I also started to feel excitement.  I started to think “I can do this...and if I can’t she looks strong enough to drag me”

We got our backpacks stowed at customer service, went to the bathroom, strapped on our water and headed to the entrance of the Grind. I was excited that I could possibly accomplish this and a little scared that I couldn’t.  We entered the trail and started to climb, up and up and up.  Ten minutes in and my lungs were burning along with my calves and quadriceps.  We had a steady pace and stopped every 100 steps or so to breathe.

We walked, and walked and walked, climbed up and up and up and up.  After what seemed like an hour, we reached a sign that cheerfully told us that we had reached the ¼ mark.  We stopped for water and a picture, so I could prove I was still alive and I had a moment of doubt.  If I was this winded already, could I make it all of the way? As people cheerfully passed us, we got back on the trail and kept going. 

 

 

We saw people of all ages, from the very young to the old, men, women, in various states of fitness level.   We had people who passed us and some we passed.  We had people who rushed past impatiently stating “on your left” as they got down to business and pushed past those of us in their way.  We had a few people actually running up the trail.  My personal opinion on those people is that they are either mentally unbalanced or super human. 

Between the ¼ and ½ mark we encountered a site that simply blew what remained of my breath away.  In front of us was a blind man.  He had a long white stick and a very patient guide, who told him exactly what was in front of him and exactly where and how to step forward.  Their speed was slow but steady and they progressed without any hesitation.

This inspired me like nothing else could have, which comes to my profound experience.  If this man could do it without sight but great direction what was stopping me? I have both sight and with my training partner direction.  I have to admit that seeing that, at that very moment in my journey gave breath to my lungs and power to my heart.  It reminded me that no matter what the obstacles we can always overcome and succeed.  Sometimes it takes the help of others, along with your own perseverance and dedication to get there.  It takes commitment, hard work and constant encouragement certainly helps.

As I walked behind the man and his guide for a while I saw the man stumble at certain points when he wasn’t clear on the direction.  I related that to my own life, where I have stumbled (and certainly will stumble many more times) and have felt like giving up or that it was just too hard, yet somehow most of those times I made it through anyway.  It could have been the great people that have guided me when I was blind to that potential or the commitment and perseverance I have had to succeed. 

We did eventually pass this man, but he stayed with me all the way to the top.  One hour, thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds after entering the trail Carol-Ann and I emerged at the top, successful in our journey.  At that moment, once I learned how to breathe again, I felt like I was literally at the top of the world.  That I can conquer anything and that this very short journey proves that all it takes is commitment, great team work and inspiration to accomplish anything.  Despite the doubt and the dire warnings of either imminent pain or failure, we walked up the side of a mountain.  One step at a time is all it took.  I’m not going to lie, many of those steps were tough and were only achieved with hard work, sweat and will power.

The even more unexpected thing, I woke up this morning without an ounce of stiffness in my limbs.  I woke up with a clear mind and limber body.  Sometimes what holds us back the most is that fear.  Can I do it?  Will it hurt? Will I fail?  Instead of thinking of these things, next time I will be thinking about that feeling I had when I reached the top.  When I’m halfway there and my enthusiasm is starting to wane I will remember that blind man and the lesson he taught me.

 

 

Some realizations I had from my first climb on the Grouse Grind:

·         Believe you can do it and then go and do it, even if it is one slow step at a time

·         Even when you cannot see what’s in front of you, keep moving forward and if you need help, accept that guidance

·         Having a training partner to do it with me made all of the difference.  I was never alone and I always had support. I was also able to give support, which really showed me again the true meaning of team

·         Accept when you need to pause to get your breath, nobody is judging you, they are simply trying to make it too

·         Let those in a hurry pass but don’t try to catch up, you’ll get there when it’s your time

·         Hard work pays off, especially when you know exactly what you are working for

·         Celebrate each success, even if you aren’t finished the journey.  Every marker we stopped to admire our progress

·         When you look back when you are on the path, really see how far you’ve come, even if you still have far to go

·         The crowded gondola smells really ripe on the way down; success doesn’t always smell like roses ;-)

 

I would do it again. In fact, I challenge YOU to get out there and climb those 2830 steps even if it’s only to prove that you can.  If you don’t think you can do it alone, that’s ok.  We can do it together, because sometimes in life, when you cannot see the way, all you need is a little guidance to succeed.