Fatigue Makes Cowards of Us All. Including Me.

The above quote has been attributed to both George Patton and Vince Lombardi. I don’t really know who should get credit for it, but I do know that it’s true.

When I started The Wish Walk almost four weeks ago, the miles would fly by. Sure, I’d be tired at the end of the day, but I never felt that I couldn’t do at least another three or four miles if necessary. Now, as we close in on the 400 mile mark, I’m starting to feel every step, and each day as I near the finish line I feel more and more like a nomad wandering through the desert desperately trying to navigate the final few steps to the safety of an oasis.

It’s not just physical, though my feet are starting to resemble raw hamburger. It’s also mental, at least to a degree. I’m averaging a little over 16 miles a day, and at an average of four miles per hour (give or take) that takes a bit over four hours. That last hour zipped by early in this adventure, but I’m now to the point where the last hour goes by at about the same rate mass did when I was coerced into church by my well meaning parents as a young man.

The part about cowardice may be a bit strong, though there was an incident today that made me wonder. I was about an hour outside or Greencastle when a truck pulled up slowly beside me, and the driver offered me a ride into town. Three weeks ago, I would have thanked him, then explained that while I appreciated the gesture, I was perfectly happy to stroll the rest of the way to my destination. Today, I passed on the offer, but not before I found myself wondering – if only for a split second – whether anybody would know if I pulled Rosie Ruiz and motored in the rest of the way before bailing a block short of the finish line and walking in.

The way I see it is this. Either you get older (hopefully gracefully) or you die. I figure I’ve still got a chance to age gracefully, and I’m not at all interested in the alternative.

So I walk on.

Sunday’s Journet: None

Mileage: None

On the iPhone: Nothing