Letting go
Society views giving up on something as a failure; a deficit of competence, skill or endurance.
We praise those who battle to overcome their limitations, we admire their tenacity and we celebrate their achievements.
But how do we achieve a noble failure? What is it to fail well? Is it possible to give up and retain your sense of self?
These questions of success and failure presented themselves to me within the first two hours of a 4-day trek through the Sierra Nevada jungle to Cuidad Perdida (Lost City).
Months before, I'd hatched a grand plan: go to Colombia, do the Lost City trek and arrive there on my birthday. It was going to be epic and I told everybody so.
This vision and those conversations about my trip were rattling round in my head as I completed the first hour of the trek, where the intense 35 degree heat and the relentless uphill stretch sapped all my energy.
Emily struggled too, and with hours of walking still ahead of us, we were sitting on the side of the dusty track, red in the face, totally overwhelmed and gasping for water while the other 13 members of our group marched on gaily ahead.
Our guides suggested we might want to get a motorbike to the top of the uphill stretch and we reluctantly agreed.
Racing up through the jungle on the back of the bike felt exhilarating after a tortuous hour on foot.
The views were incredible. A dark voice told me I didn't deserve the view because I wasn't walking. I managed to convince myself that a beautiful view did not have to be 'earned', just enjoyed.
We were dropped off at makeshift shop at the top of the hill, a small wooden hut and a gazebo to give respite from the sun.
Sitting there, waiting for our guides and the other members of our group to arrive, we contemplated our imminent failure.
We'd hiked in the heat in Jordan, India and Cuba together, but the conditions here were something else. Perhaps we'd reached our limit. Perhaps it was time to quit.
We knew jungle terrain meant there would be no more motorbikes to save us beyond this point, we had to commit to the hike or go back.
Sitting under that gazebo, with the spectacular Sierra Nevada spread out before us, I gave up.
It was painful to let go of the idea of reaching the Lost City on my birthday and to think of all the people I'd have to tell that I failed.
I had held the idea in my mind so tightly for months and now it was time to loosen my grip. A few tears escaped below my sunglasses but I knew it was important to be kind to ourselves. At least we had tried.
I was only competing against a picture I'd created in my head after all, fighting it would be like boxing with a shadow.
When our guide, Maria, reached us, we told her we didn't think we'd be able to continue.
She suggested we continued down hill to the first camp to talk it through, which we agreed to do.
Two hours of hiking later, I was showering under an icy gush of water pumping from a pipe above me. I checked in with my body and realised I wasn't in any pain. Whatever the heat had done to my mind, by body was unscathed.
Interesting.
After dinner we had a chat with Maria and our other guide, Bleiner.
They told us even they had struggled because it was so hot, and they truly believed we were strong enough to carry on if we kept to our own pace.
Their kindness and encouragement gently nudged us into a rethink.
There was no-one more surprised than me when I put my walking boots on at 6am the next day and set out with the group.
Make no mistake, this story is not about me pushing my limits or being tenacious, it's about deciding to give up and making my peace with it, and that felt like a win.
