I was well into writing this book, however, when it came to me. This race reflects so much of my life (I suspect that of other journeymen too). It’s about relationships – relationships with other people, with Mother Earth and all her components, such as terrain and weather, with time, with distance, and maybe, most important, is the relationship with ourselves.

Survival is the first step in life. If we can’t survive, we can’t get to any of the other joys. Vol State teaches survival, although not to the extent other events or real life do. You could go and just find out whether you can or cannot survive alone. Go beyond that to discover what it actually takes to enjoy life. I might even dare to say you can learn to thrive during this race – no matter how stinky you are.

Dictionary.com gives us this definition: “To thrive is to grow and develop strongly.” You definitely grow and develop both as you prepare for the race and then as you take part in it. All that you endure and the obstacles you overcome help you grow and develop strongly. I think people think of thriving as flourishing outwardly and being prosperous. Vol State makes you flourish and prosper. Some definitions of prosper include becoming strong. It’s not all about material or worldly matters. Anyone who sets foot on the ferry has spent a great deal of time growing strong physically and mentally and has thrived.

When I think of the friends I’ve made, the people I’ve met, and the lives that have touched me in these races, I consider myself the luckiest person in the world. Every time I have done the event, including the time I didn’t finish, I have become much more rich by meeting so many wonderful people. I have learned from each of them and when I’ve seen all they have conquered to reach The Rock, I admire and respect them even more. The adversity they have overcome is heartwarming.

Heat and rain are Mother Earth’s elements that have tried to thwart me in these endeavors. I am used to the heat and humidity being in Texas, but this year I didn’t train enough at the right time to endure the effect of direct sun. Standing or walking as the direct sun shines down on you makes it seem even hotter than when you figure in the humidity. The race almost beat me on day one this year because of the sun. The rain came two days later, and I was okay with it thanks to those cheap little plastic ponchos. If the rain had been worse or had I got caught in the thunderstorms, I don’t know how I would have reacted. I have talked a lot about not being able to see in the dark and how that was a big hindrance to me. I could persist, but the blackness could have taken me down completely.

Time and distance are not just theories and quantum physics discussions. I know nothing about quantum physics, but I know how both time and distance conspired against me to make this race seem like it was much, much more than 314 miles and much less than ten days. The miles seemed to go on forever and although the hours seemed to keep pace; the days seemed shorter. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but I don’t know how else to describe it.

This is how it felt:

“Crap! How far have I gone? It must have been ten miles at least. So where is the landmark I was hoping to reach? What do you mean it’s only been two miles? It can’t be.” It seemed as if it had taken me four hours to just go two miles and yet, if I looked at my watch, I would learn it hadn’t been that long. When the scenery doesn’t change, then there’s nothing to keep your mind occupied (and mark your progress) other than your misery and unhappiness. This is why mental training is so important.

I also want to develop a good relationship with the road surface and the shoulders. It doesn’t do anyone any good to dislike them and dread their presence. I must embrace them and all they teach me. I had several months to realize what it is they actually teach me. It’s good to have smaller types of adversity (and in the grand scheme of things, the lousy shoulders or absent shoulders really are small, although it seemed large at the time) for they teach you to handle the bigger ones. You don’t climb Mt. Everest when you’ve climbed no mountain before. You start out slow. The shoulders will be my “starting out slow.”

The relationship with myself has been the most revealing of all. I knew I would find great people, crappy weather and lousy roads from my previous attempts. And of course, I had learned some things about myself in those times too but this time I really learned a lot – or maybe it’s just more recent and I can remember the lessons better. Look within. Make it a priority to finish. Combat the enemy every step of the way and to do that, you have to have developed a strategy and practiced it. The enemy is your own negative mindset and negative thoughts. Once you let them get ahold of your brain, they infect your emotions and then that leads to physiological disruption, too. You must spot the enemy from as far away as possible, take aim at it and stop it in its tracks. Don’t allow it to take over. I did a large part of that but still have more strategies to develop and practice before next year.

I learned that even though my age does adversely affect a fair amount of my physical performance, my age does not rule my mental performance. It’s something I have total control over if I learn and practice more. That makes me feel so positive about my ability to achieve success in the future.

The “Why I did this race” is the same as the “Why do I continue to go on living”! It’s a part of me and I am a part of it!