Photo courtesy of www.sportograf.com
“…I was playing my guitar
Lying underneath the stars
Just thanking the Lord
For my fingers
For my fingers”
I’m not religious, or even spiritual, yet I’ve experienced moments more than once this year where I’m astonished at what I can achieve and I’m grateful to… someone.
One of the first came at the San Diego Spartan Race in Pala on April 13. I had hoisted a 40-pound sandbag on my shoulder and carried it for a quarter of a mile. I did the same for a 60-pound weighted bucket and a 70-pound Atlas ball, though the distance I had to schlep that last monstrosity wasn’t as long and I had help getting it off the ground.
I scaled a 30-foot A-frame cargo net, dove underneath an inflatable wall in muddy water and slithered through barbed wire, getting a mild case of road rash in the process. But my first thought when I faced the slip wall toward the end of the 5K obstacle course was “I don’t got this.”
Still, I had to give it the ol’ college try. I wiped my muddy hands on my muddy leggings, wrapped my fingers around the damp rope and, to my surprise, began to climb.
And climb.
Doubt assailed me when I reached the top and gravity began to work, tugging me down the sloped metal toward earth. I let go of the rope, dug my fingers into the edge, pulled my body back up, hoisted one leg over and, finally, the next.
I did it! All that was left now was to climb down the ladder, leap over the fire and run through the finish line.
Before having weight-loss surgery seven years ago, climbing a flight of stairs seemed impossible, let alone scaling walls. I couldn’t have ascended anything even two years ago.
It wasn’t the surgery or the shrinking fat cells that allowed me to finish my second Spartan race, complete a Tough Mudder a month later and sign up for a third obstacle course race in August — I’m weird, but the muddier the race the better I like it!
Some credit goes to a recent dedication to fitness, the privilege of having a trainer and sheer euphoria of being strong enough to do something new — even if it’s as simple as walking down a trail I’ve never been on. But I think the reason I’m able to do these things now, and the reason I keep doing them, is down to a constant renewal of faith.
I have an interesting relationship with faith. It was, up until roughly three-and-a-half years ago, my middle name. I dropped Faith, kept Cejnar and gained Andrews when I married, but I now realize that even though I’m not religious or spiritual, that I don’t believe in God, I need Faith.
I started this In Media Res on Thanksgiving eve — a time when, between the turkey, pumpkin pie and football, people pause to count their blessings. I had initially planned on providing context to the quote above, the final stanza in Paul Simon’s 1971 ballad “Duncan.”
According to the Wikipedia synopsis, the eponymous character leaves his childhood home and finds himself without money, confidence and faith in himself. He regains his confidence and self-faith when he loses his virginity to a female preacher.
The song closes with Lincoln Duncan playing his guitar and thanking a higher power for his fingers.
Every now and then, when I’m faced with an impossible obstacle and grapple with that little voice telling me I’ll get hurt or mess up, I keep going, and I know who I’m thankful for.
I’ve found my Faith. I’ve found myself.
