In the Army I did some training along the Appalachian Trail—not ON the Trail, because soldiers do not travel on trails, that is where the enemy puts booby traps and ambushes. So, for about a week, I humped a fifty pound rucksack, water and rifle up and down the steep mountains that flanked the Trail. Despite my youth and fitness, this training drained me to the bottom of what I had. To overcome the pain and fatigue and drive on up the steep mountainsides, I tried focusing on only the crest as I pulled myself up, silently chanting—I’m almost there, just keep going, I’m almost there. Thus, I drove forward, thinking only of the relief I would feel when I got to the top and reached a plateau where I would not have to climb any further. Unfortunately, when I would finally drag myself to what I thought was the top, I would find I had been deceived—there was no plateau, only another crest to be scaled that I could not have seen from below. It was as if each crest simply revealed a new one to be scaled, and this revelation made me increasingly frustrated. At one point, I threw my rifle down, and said “when are we going to get to the top of this thing?”
“Never,” the soldier next to me replied (even though I hadn’t been talking to him). “We never are. There are no plateaus, there are only mountains. Don’t think about getting to the top. Concentrate on how you climb.”
That was good advice. By assuming there was no plateau, I was able to stop thinking about how good it would feel to walk on level ground. By accepting that I would always be climbing, I was able to start focusing on climbing as efficiently as possible. I realized that when the physical relief of the mythical plateau had been my sole goal, I had been in dangerous haste to get there. I had not been picking the best route up and conserving my energy for the really difficult stretches. Because I only wanted the pain of the climb to end, I had rushed forward with that in mind, becoming physically and mentally depleted by both the effort and the disappointment of each false crest. Ultimately, by throwing my rifle down, I ceased being a soldier and became a disarmed man—easy pickings for the waiting enemy.
I believe it is man’s nature to seek the mythical plateau in many things other than climbing mountains. Whether it is physical fitness, marriage or our view of eternity, we distract ourselves from the pain of the climb by rushing toward a utopic end-state where we hope that no further pain or effort will be required. I have found this to be a dangerous way to live, because it leads to frustration, exhaustion and ultimately the self-deceit that one has reached a safe and suitable place where the climbing can stop. But that place does not exist. The false crest is not a place where one may rest. In all things that matter, we are either Climbing Up Or Sliding Back.
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