Feeling more like my old turtle-y self

You know the story of the Tortoise and the Hare, right? Well, if you've ever encountered me on a long-term project- you would readily recognize me as a tortoise. I think those of us who are the tortoises of the world are a bit embarrassed to admit it. There is little glamorous about a tortoise. Well, maybe they make fetching eyeglass trim eventually. The truth is, there is nothing wrong with being a tortoise, so long as you finish the race. Sure, it's nice to be rapid now and then, but it's exhausting, and often leads to burn out. So, I tend to prefer the slow-and-steady method. The catch for this tortoise is, sometimes I stop to take a break and forget there's a race to finish- or I'm enjoying my rest so much I can't bear to get back to plodding along.

The first time I really learned this lesson, was on my hike up Kilimanjaro. For those of you who are newer to the world of me- I'll give you a second to pick up your chins. For some reason, which I will never understand, God had me pledge my wedded commitment to a man who loves outdoorsy adventure (read: I do NOT). And, sometimes, I subject myself to things outside my comfort zone for the sake of marital enrichment, say for example, climbing a mountain with him. I did my homework. As far as big mountains go- it's one of the easiest. It's basically walking alllllll the way up. No scaling rocks or scrambling or anything dreadful like that. There would be camping involved but we'd have porters setting up & breaking down camp along the way (they cooked for us, and carried everything but our daypacks-- they were awesome). So. I agreed. I figured I was getting off easy as far as adventures went. I trained, sort of. I walked a lot to get myself ready. But, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Indiana is a bit- well- flat, and mountains are- well- not. So, I could only train so much.

Okay. Getting back to the tortoise thing. I knew it'd be a heck of a hike. I knew there was a distinct possibility of failure. In an effort to encourage myself and remind myself to succeed- I carried w/ me a small ceramic tortoise (probably 1/2 inch long) and on its feet I wrote "slow and steady made it here" with my initials and the year. I decided, wherever my highest point ended up being- I'd leave my tortoise there. Now, all you rule-sticklers can just stuff it. You're not supposed to leave anything but footprints, I know. But, I figured, it's tiny, it's ceramic (will break down and decompose into dust- fairly common on mountains), and I needed to do it. So- we climbed & climbed & climbed. The day before the summit I was feeling pretty good. I was rocking the hiking thing- I could hike all day and keep a steady pace. I wasn't feeling the altitude like my poor spouse was, and I was even managing to chug down the horrendous gatorade-flavored, iodine-treated water we'd brought with us. Go me!

Well. Summit day came. I'd never felt the urge to quit so badly in my life! Somewhere around 2 hours into our ascent (I think it was about 3 a.m.) I sat down on a rock and had a proper meltdown. This was stupid. Other people were coming to their senses and heading back down. Why would anyone go to the top of a mountain just to say they did it? I'm done. Let's go home. I'll wait for you at the bottom (another day+/- to get to the bottom). It was freezing. Really. It was about 32 degrees or so. Our guide, bless his patient heart, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "my sister (love that about Africa), I would like to let you sit here and cry as long as you like, but you will get frostbite if you sit here. We need to keep moving." (roughly paraphrased- imagine it w/ a great Swahili accent- and it was 7+ yrs ago- my memory is foggy on the exact wording.) Oh I thought. I can sit here and have my pity party, get frostbite- be hospitalized in Tanzania, and go home possibly missing parts of my face or some finger tips. Probably a good idea to suck it up for now and just keep walking. "Okay," I muttered. And off we went. In the meantime- my husband is running to rocks every few minutes for other reasons- he was having a very rough time and sadly, in that moment I was just hoping it'd make him want to turn around- but he's not like that.

Our guide told us the nearer we got to the top- the slower we had to go. Take a step. Take a deep breath. Take a step. And he wasn't kidding. It was the slowest walk of my life, and about 5 hours later, at this- probably slower than a tortoise's pace, we reached Gillman's Point (my summit). I put my tortoise down on a rock, took a picture. Had my moment documented. My face was so cold, I could not get the corners of my mouth to turn up for a smile. And then we headed down. It wasn't gravy. I HATE going down any kind of slope, much less one covered in scree that one is required to leap down (think skipping in p.e. class). Dread, dread, dread. But we made it, and I can now casually drop an "I climbed Kilimanjaro" into a conversation and have it be absolutely true.

It taught me some serious life lessons:
1. As long as you make progress, it doesn't matter how puny it is. Progress is progress is progress.
2. When you're getting really close to your goal- you're going to want to quit- your brain will play all kinds of mean games. Keep your wits about you. If necessary- have someone apply a swift slap to your face, even if verbal.
3. In order to make it to your goal, you will have to make slow, deliberate steps, and most importantly- you'll have to take the time to breathe between each one.
4. Even when you make it to your goal, there is still a heck of a lot of work to do, but remember you've done the hardest part- you can do this.
5. Once you've accomplished your goal- you'll want to beam and brag about it, but it's much more fun to just be able to casually plunk it into conversation now and then.

This got me through childbirth- twice (and one of those times was with twins, with one twin breech). Tonight, I hold this out in front of me- reminding myself again what it's like to take on such a lofty goal. I'm reminding myself how awesome it'll be to say one day, "Oh yeah, I wrote a novel once. Want to read it?"

To my fellow NaNo-er's. Hang in there kids, it's tough, but we can do this together. And friends, if you see me starting to wallow in my not-quite-at-the-goal pity party for too long-- go ahead and slap me. I'll be okay. I promise.

Tonight's numbers, meager though they be:
Total Word Count Target: 90,000 edited words
Total Word Count as of today: 24,465
Approximately 27.2% of the goal

NaNoWriMo suggested target (if I were playing by the rules): 50,000
48.9% of that goal