On light.

I spent this past weekend crewing two dear friends on a 100k walk. In the midst of a tumultuous time in my life while waiting to move into my new house I've been counting down the days and writing my thoughts on each on my Facebook page. This was my pondering with 41 days to go.

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Ultramarathons that involve night running have the most incredible phenomenon that you'd never know about unless you've experienced it: you can tell where the route is from any given point along the trail because you'll see a conga line of headlamps dancing up hill and down dale for hours on end. Having never crewed anyone before, I've never experienced this from anywhere other than the tail end of that line, but at the weekend as I was waiting for my friends to arrive I watched this go on for hours from a distant hill. 

It was something to behold as a spectator for sure, but what struck me more than anything was the symbolic nature of that light - it cut straight through the darkness, showing every last warrior the way forward until the sun rose again on the promise of a new day.

Earlier in the day, there had come a point at about 38 km / 24 miles where my waiting position was at the summit of a low bridge. I had the checkpoint behind me as I watched swathes of bedraggled masses snaking their way towards me from the preceding hill.

I stood on the bridge and took photos for a while but at some point I started to study the people coming through a little more closely. Some had loads of pep in their step, clearly having done the training and feeling fully ready to fight to the finish. Others had shoulders so low they were nearly dragging the ground. Defeated postures, slow moving, some wincing. I told them all there was a chair over there with their name on it as I gestured to the checkpoint. Some grinned and bantered back. Some explained their pain and fatigue. I told them all exactly what I would have wanted to be told, were we to have swapped roles in that moment.

This scene, these moments, would stick hard to my heart. Because what I also saw in these people - especially the ones with the dropped shoulders and agonised expressions - was the fire beginning to catch in their eyes. I knew that the more each of these weary bodies was breaking down, the more their minds would have to take over. It was like two sets of switches in an equaliser, as one lowered the other rose. This did not fluctuate from person to person. It looked the same on them all. 

Broken body, blazing eyes. I've lived this many times, but man alive, it was incredible to witness.

Interestingly, had I been in one place for the duration, I'd only have seen this moment, but the gift was having been following along from point to point. I was watching the deterioration in real time. I witnessed every blow, every cut, every burn in this battle, for all these people. And we were only at 38k of that 100.

I remember during That Ridgeway With the Shinjury that caused me to drop out for the second time, Kat told me she could see in my eyes I would stop at nothing to have this victory. That's the look I was seeing. It really is patently obvious, and it is something that I connected with immediately. It started to feed my faith with regard to that real life progress which has seemed impossible to achieve.

Until now. 

When the body is burnt out, put the head in charge - just like an ultra. Just like I've done so many times on a trail. Ok boss, got it.

I'd see my friends through this checkpoint and send them off with yet another banter and laugh. But by the time they reached halfway, they'd battled some raging storms and that fire was giving off more than a hint of smoke. Of course I'd not tell them I could see this. My job was to stoke the fire and help them blaze again. They both came in slightly hunched over, clearly carrying a lot of pain, and then - much to my surprise - without missing a beat just got straight to work in a regimented routine to sort themselves out. Here was this team who'd fought this battle together many times before and I knew all I had to do was fill in the gaps and keep that fire burning no matter what. I waited for instructions, I offered what I could...

...and then I watched the most incredible metamorphosis I've ever seen in my life. 

They were clearly masters of following that golden rule to never quit before you enter a checkpoint - use it to the full and see how you feel afterwards. And lo and behold I saw it happening in real time, and it was an absolute master class. I was a bit dumbstruck after I sent them off, as I was awed by the revitalisation I'd witnessed. They were absolutely empty on arrival. I couldn't process it really. What...? How...?

That fire. That light.

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Back to that dark parking space and its conga line of light dancing down the hill...

Hours later, I still followed their tracker, picked out a set of lights I thought were theirs, and waited for them to make their way to my position. I seemed to have got it right when two familiar shapes materialised at the road crossing, now in full trudge, clearly bowed, and still unbroken.

Two bodies protesting loudly but those lights were ablaze. Again it was all business. They needed tea, we needed to fix some rubbing on an ankle, feet checked, legs rested, demons battled, laughter restored, and again they were off as soon as they had finished the necessities. No quarter. There was a job to do and they wouldn't be stopped.

When daylight came, those lights switched off, but those in their eyes remained. At 90k they sent a photo near the distance marker saying 'it's going down'.

I always knew it would. I punched the air and let out a whoop.

Over 28 hours after they began, I filmed them crossing the finish line. Knowing their job was done, I looked around to find the faces of many other competitors I'd seen throughout the race, many limping, all beaming, as their own light was now compressed forever into their hearts with the victory they came to acquire. It shone from their eyes for all the world to see. They would leave this undertaking much different people than when they'd arrived. 

And isn't that precisely what any personal challenge gifts you? That drive, that grit, that determination, that perseverance, that knowledge that nothing else but victory will do.

I witnessed these all, and I'll remember them to my last breath. I know these gifts not only from personal experience, but also from witnessing them flickering on the faces of world-weary warriors in the midst of an ultra. 

I hold them ever so close today.

41 more sleeps. Until then I will continue to stoke the blaze in my own heart. It will never die.

Onward.

#relentlessforwardprogress