#1: It’s not about the first step.
It’s about getting past the middle.
My friends convinced me to do a ropes course on my birthday. For those of you not familiar with ropes courses, they’re basically incredibly complicated jungle gyms made of string and tied around trees hundreds of feet in the air. You attach yourself to some of the ropes and then you climb on others. Everyone wears helmets and gets trained on safety, but make no mistake, it’s as terrifying as any self-respecting near death experience should be.
A Collaborative Expedition.
There were 9 of us in our group. The guy who gave us our equipment said usually people go up in pairs, but my buddies intuited from my desperate expression that I needed more support, so we made one group of 3. My friend Shelley went in front of me, and my friend Lori was behind. They had both done this course before.
Cue parenthetical metaphor about the importance of fellow pilgrims when traveling on a collaborative expedition. Especially ones with experience in an area you lack. Insert clip from The Fellowship Of The Ring to demonstrate the multiplied power of shared hope and encouragement.
My pals were my champions, but having never done anything like a ropes course before, I could not remember the last time I was that afraid.
Getting Past The Middle.
The young woman working the first element of the course kept trying to encourage me by saying: “Just take the first step. It all begins with the first step. After you take the first step, the rest will be easy. Take the first step and you’ll be fine.”
If she told me to take the first step one more time, I was pretty sure I’d be taking the first step on her face.
I took the first step off of the teeny tiny platform, and I told her I thought I could do it. And it was fine, at first. I was cruising along, right then left, hand over hand, stay on pace, just keep swimming- and then, at some point, I didn’t. I stopped. I couldn’t tell you why or exactly what happened to cause me to pause, right there in the middle of the “Trapeze Element”, but stop. I. did.
Once I stopped, I couldn’t start again. I was frozen in place. I couldn’t go back, because I was already committed. I was out there. Since I was exactly halfway across, it would take me just as long to go back as to finish.
A wave of certainty washed over me. I had made the most horrific mistake of my life in agreeing to do this. Abruptly and absolutely, I realized that I had gotten myself into a situation that I could not get myself out of. I was stuck. Stuck in the middle of the air, above the trees, atop one skinny thread, in the middle of the afternoon of my 38th birthday.
I hung out on the rope for what was probably just a minute or two, but felt like an hour. Finally, I had no choice but to go on. It was the only way out. Trust me. If there had been any other option, I would have taken it.
Sometimes things get harder before they get easier.
When I eventually started to move on, I realized that the ropes that connected me to the cables were stuck. I yelled up to the woman working at the other end of my element and asked her what to do. She said to keep going, that the ropes were a little bunched up and would jerk when I moved but that I was “fine”. So now, not only did I have to get across the rest of the element while simultaneously having a panic attack, I had to do it pulling my own rope that wrenched and shuddered whenever I budged even a bit. It felt like one big yank would flip me right off the trapeze and into the sky.
Eventually, I took another first step, and gradually I made my way across to the other side.
When I finally got to the end of the rope, Shelley was waiting for me. Everyone should have Shelley waiting for them when they finish almost-dying-by-ropes-course. Except you can’t, because I have dibs. She grabbed me in a big hug (very carefully, so we wouldn’t pitch 700 feet off of the platform that was so narrow both of us barely fit on it), put her face right up close to mine, and yelled at the top of her lungs: “YOU DID IT!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!! YOU DID IT! WAY TO GO!! I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW!!!”
No kidding, that’s exactly what she said. I felt like the queen of the world.
Then Lori came across. More hugs. We did two more elements, after which we ziplined to freedom. Then everyone else finished. We all yelled for each other and high fived and woo-hoo’d. It was like a chapter meeting of the Thelma and Louise fan club.
Anyone can start something.
Walking back from the course, I thought about how the first step is way overrated. Anything is possible at the start. Anyone can take a first step, full of hope and promise. The beginning is where the excitement is: look at all the potential, the hope of glory yet to be attained. Everything is fresh. Nothing difficult has happened yet. No actual less-than-perfect experience colors your expectations. All seems attainable. Think of the high drama at the beginning of any race or competition or challenge.
The Olympics.
The school year.
The wedding.
Anyone can start something.
The hard part is to keep going, when you’ve gone too far to turn back but you can’t imagine making it the rest of the way to the end. You’ve passed the point of no return but what is still in front of you looks about as likely as a lion laying down with a lamb. That’s when it really gets grim. That’s when you want to remember that you can make it if you just press on towards the goal. That’s when you need friends who stay with you and scream in your face and take a picture so you’ll remember the moment. That’s when you appreciate reliable experts who can tell you that you’ll be fine, despite significant indications to the contrary. That’s when you learn in your heart what words like commitment and trust and follow and die really mean, compared to what they have meant in your head up until that moment. That’s when it counts like it has never counted before.
This is where the healing begins.
Wherever you are on your course, I encourage you to take the next step. Do whatever it takes to get past the middle. Even if that means calling a time out at the halfway point. Make sure you get yourself a coach who will give you the pep talk you need. Look around at your friends, both in front and behind. Remember that we’re with you. We believe in you.
Don’t be surprised when it’s hard. Most things worth doing usually are.
Tell yourself whatever is necessary so that you won’t lose the ground you’ve already gained. Give yourself grace. And time. And keep going. Don’t give up. You’re halfway there.
It just takes some time, little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be alright
“The Middle”, Jimmy Eat World