The first time I ever ran the gravel hill at Cobb's Hill was during a high school cross country race. I couldn't make it up without walking. I was so insubstantial then. I hadn't really struggled yet. I didn't have the wisdom and the strength that comes from rough patches and struggles and heartbreak and punching all the personal demons in the face.
Now I can run up that hill as many times as I want. And I love it. Whatever speed I had in my youth is long gone, but what I do have is endurance, heart, and the ability to tolerate discomfort. I was always fueled by desire. Whatever I wanted, I worked my ass off until I got it. (But then I crashed and burned a few times and realized that I also needed, you know, actual fuel.)
Sometimes people who know your past struggles look at you like you're fragile, like you might break at any time. I think it's funny. When people tell me about their pasts and the things they went through, I see only the opposite: strength and perseverance and hard-won awesomeness. Because I've learned that it's the hard things, the uncomfortable things, that really shape us. So if you're struggling, just keep going. There are amazing things awaiting you atop that hill. And when you get through that shit, you will never look back, except to see how far you've come.
Lyric of the moment: "You ask me if there'll come a time when I grow tired of you. Never my love, never my love. You wonder if this heart of mine will lose its desire for you. Never my love, never my love..." (Because the Pete Yorn cover of this song was playing on the radio as I was driving to work this morning and the WBER radio guy said "That was a sad one by Pete Yorn." But how is that sad? I think it's quite lovely.)
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