“Kate, Welcome to Panchase”
Tears filled my eyes as I realized what had happened. My guide announced where we were and I realized what she had just done. I honestly had no idea how long it had been. I just knew that I wouldn’t have made it without her conversation. Instead of feeling every inch of pain in my feet, knees and back with every tiny little step forward, I was focused on answering her questions and carrying on a conversation that I still remember. What I don’t remember? How many miles we walked like that, side by side, alone on the trail.
I was the last person in our group. The slowest hiker. My struggle was evident. I had 5 blisters on my feet and my arthritic knees and messed up lower back were extremely angry with me. I knew going in to this trip that it would not be easy for me. But there was no way I could’ve anticipated all it would entail. From the very first steps it was emotionally and mentally debilitating. Our Sherpa guide had questioned why I would carry my own pack, indicating that I should give it to one of our porters to carry. I felt totally singled out. He didn’t ask anyone else. Just me. The realization that he didn’t think I was capable of it, because I was the only overweight person in our group, hit me hard that morning as we stood on the far shore of Phewa Lake looking up at a nearly vertical climb of only about 1 mile but that would take us most of the morning.
I am not used to coming in last. I will admit that I have had a life of relative ease. Certain things have always come easy for me — dancing and learning movement patterns, jigsaw puzzles, memorizing answers for tests, etc. I’ve never really had to work super hard at anything, because the things I found myself having to work too hard towards, like most Americans, I decided “just weren’t for me” and I found something else that was more enjoyable. I even quit piano lessons as a child because I didn’t “enjoy” practicing, despite the fact that I earned the highest rating possible all 3 years I participated. I didn’t want to work hard. If there were things I could master without having to work hard, why would I choose to do something that would be difficult to achieve? Looking back now I feel like I tended to equate “enjoyment” with “easy to accomplish.” The reward of achieving something I had to work really hard towards was foreign to me for most of my formative years.
So there I was, trailing the rest of the group from the very beginning of our trek, body wrecked in pain. What was I thinking?!? THIS SUCKED. I hated being “that person” in the group. The challenged member. Surely there was a dance class somewhere I could take that would be way more beneficial?! Was everyone else in the group worried about me? Was I drinking enough water? Did I need a protein bar? This battle was entirely in my head. My team members were nothing but supportive, and aside from our lead Sherpa guide questioning my decision to carry my own pack, there was absolutely no other outside sign that anyone gave my weight or lack of physical fitness a second thought. I’m 99% certain that we were each inside our own heads questioning just what we were doing there. There’s something about putting yourself in a situation in which you test your own boundaries to an extreme that eliminates the ability to compare and judge ourselves against those around us. You’re so focused on surviving there’s not much room for anything else! This should’ve been a very safe space for me to exist for that very reason. But I couldn’t get out of my own head. I was battling my own judgement, my own unwillingness to come in last. How could I be the one holding the group up? How could I be “that” person?! This was entirely new. And I did not like it. Not one bit.
I’m here to tell you… THERE IS VALUE IN COMING IN LAST! So much so, that I would even recommend you seek out activities in which you know you will lose. Yes, really! The end reward will far outweigh the internal struggle to accept your position.
There is a Buddhist belief that the more difficult the journey on your pilgrimage the more rewards in the after life. For this reason many monasteries and holy places are built in extremely difficult to reach locations. For example, the Tiger’s Nest (Paro Taktsang) in Bhutan (more on my trek to Taktsang in a later post!). The pilgrimage is made all that more meaningful by it’s challenges. I think Western civilization, in particular the U.S, would do well to study this belief. Too many times lately I hear people talk about exploring their gifts and the things they are naturally good at. While I firmly believe the value in this, I fear we have started to focus so much on this as a society that our scale has become unbalanced. If something does not come easy to you, do not abandon it! Seek out your weaknesses and challenges. Pursue your discomfort.
“Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on, I’ll be mad.” ~Rumi
This entire trek, along the Panchase trail in the Anapurna region of Nepal, was an exercise in this attitude for me. And this is totally a cliche, but it changed my life. I hiked that trail (carrying my own pack the entire way). I did that. With arthritis and a bad back and being at least 50 lbs overweight. I did it! It was excruciating. I cried. A lot more than my fellow hikers probably knew. As I went to bed one night on the trail I didn’t even know if I would be able to get up the next day. But I firmly believe that completing that trek in my current state, rather than when I was in my 20s and far healthier, made it so much more of an accomplishment. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly. And if something is worth doing poorly, perhaps it’s worth even MORE if we struggle and suffer to get there.
