Finding peace in the mountains of Patagonia

As I sprinted toward the finish line, I caught sight of a multiple-time Ironman, the first classmate to greet us at the end of a three-day 50+ mile trail run in Argentina last December. The grueling run was called El Cruce (The Crossing): winding up and down mountains, cutting single tracks through dense forest, and offering breath-taking views of Patagonia, it attracted more than 50 competitors from the GSB.

I asked him why he was standing some distance before the fanfare at the finish line. In his experience, he said, the end of an endurance race is a moment of profound intimacy and reflection for an athlete best received in sober fashion. The final steps to the finish line allow you to turn your focus from the race itself to the magnitude of the journey you are completing, something only the athlete can fully understand. He enjoyed sharing that moment with each runner through a simple gaze of respect and understanding.

His insight led me to reflect on what those final steps through that picturesque mountain town represented to me. Only after weeks of introspection would I come to understand how El Cruce was a microcosm of my broader experience at the GSB.

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Part 1: Is this really happening?

I didn’t know what I was saying yes to. For some, deciding to attend business school was simple once they got “the call” from Stanford, but I wrestled with the decision for a month. It wasn’t easy to leave a good job and great community to burn through my life’s savings for an uncertain future. Saying yes to El Cruce was a bit easier in a bout of FOMO, but both decisions left me wondering if I was crazy to leap before I looked.

“Is this really happening?” I would ask myself.

I hadn’t done things half as impressive as the people I was meeting through donut chats.

I had never run more than six miles in a row.

But since there was no one saying I wasn’t supposed to be there, I decided to lean in and see where the adventure took me. When I opened my JMac door to see the boxes of belongings I had shipped waiting for me, I felt a sense of surrealness wash over me. I would feel it again as I walked through the quiet summer evening in Villa la Angostura the night before our race began: “You’re here now. This is really happening.”

Part 2: “In 30 years I want to look back and say I did this with you”

The hardest question I get from my non-GSB friends and family is “how’s school?” because there’s no easy, concise way to answer that question. My default has become “It’s great because I am surrounded by incredible people I would never have met if I had stayed put.”

Coming from the world of petrochemicals to the GSB means everyone I have met here has helped provide a window into parts of the world I never knew existed. I’m grateful for the international perspectives, the finance tutoring, and the willingness of everyone to explain their passion project, whether it be cow burps or NFTs. El Cruce similarly provided the chance to spend time with individuals I had not gotten to know well in my first year.

The main goal I had other than finishing the race was to run most of it with classmates. I knew my morale would ebb and flow over the three days and hoped that we would help each other embrace the suck. Fortunately, I found running partners for both short and long stretches. I swore I would never leave anyone behind to run by myself — I wasn’t there to set a personal record, I was there for the experience. In 30 years, I would rather remember the person I ran with for 10 miles on Day 2 or stood in the freezing rain with during the delayed start on Day 3, than celebrate a fast finishing time.

Part 3: Have I accomplished anything at all?

In the quiet moments in a different part of Patagonia a week later, I wondered if I had done anything that special. I wanted to feel proud. I had gone from the couch to El Cruce, pushing past both mental and physical barriers over the past seven months. As I opened my Instagram feed to share my achievement with my non-GSB friends and family half a world away, I found it filled with dozens of celebration posts. I felt hollow. The last thing the internet needed was yet another post about El Cruce.

I felt that I didn’t have anything to celebrate, and that I was on the outside looking into the lives of true athletes. I finished near the bottom of the pack of GSBers with a markedly pedestrian time. Posting that I did something in the bottom quartile of my friends seemed laughable.

And I have battled that same feeling for the five quarters I’ve been here. Even amongst what appeared to be a cohesive mass of GSBers at El Cruce, sub-groups naturally formed based on race times with the fastest runners moving together throughout the day as they were steps ahead in the recovery process by the time the slower runners arrived at camp. This was symbolic of informal groups I have seen form within the class based on shared career experiences or interests. I relish learning from others with much different interests from mine and am proud of having varied enough interests to relate to others on a variety of disparate experiences. But I often struggle with a feeling of loneliness and inadequacy from not fitting neatly enough into any of these groups to be accepted as one of their own. I wonder what I might have to do better or differently to be welcomed as I am.

Acknowledging personal growth can be difficult in an environment where accomplishing what is hard for you sometimes pales in comparison to what others can do in their sleep. My post-Cruce soul searching helped me remember that we must measure ourselves according to our past selves, not to those around us. I know 2019 James would be proud of what 2022 James has done — whether El Cruce or writing an article for publication for the first time.

Part 4: An intersection of journeys

Stinging memories of classmates I considered good friends passing on trips or activities I organized in favor of joining other groups caused me to withdraw and triggered a mental health crisis in my first year. But now, to avoid the comparison game, I’ve found it helps to remember that these two years represent a short time when 430+ journeys coincide, not when they all become the same story. We are forever bonded by the time we’ve spent together, just as the El Cruce 2021 crew will always have the struggle up those mountains in common, no matter the order in which we finished. Each runner represented a unique story — from those who were leaning into physical competition once more to those simply enjoying a hike in the woods even though they were more than capable of gunning for first.

At the GSB we are all running our own races with unique goals and we are all here to support each other. Let us aspire to focus more on being grateful for our own growth and cheering on the small (or large) steps others are taking around us. I want to remember the people who accompanied me on the journey and how they pushed me to be a better version of myself, rather than how much I accomplished.

What about you?