Beyond the scope of the book, I've written a great deal about the experience of being on this "journey". I find it amazing so many people supported me and my dreams. I have alluded to this in a previous post when I was thinking about my Dad on Navajo Peak. Later in the summer, as I closed in on my 50th hike, I began to revisit these notions.
Corny as it sounds, I was thinking about the scene in Forest Gump (yeah, go ahead and laugh) where he gets letters he had written to Jenny back, unopened. I was also reminded of the poetry of World War I poet Wilfred Owen, who penned some of the most beautiful love poems in the English language to a girl who didn't give a damn whether he lived or died. Or the letters of a soldier in World War 2 scripted to his father, who refused to read them because of a trivial conflict between the two.
My experiences didn't directly correlate to any of these situations, but it got me thinking about how valuable reflection is on those solo adventures. Many of the people who truly believed in me did so quietly and I began to appreciate that more than ever in my life. As it is, trying to get by as a writer is a rather far-flung profession, especially given my aversion to the dry art of print journalism (though I have a great amount of respect for those who can do it well).
And I thought about all the people who have given up on me in my life. In sports, it's a known fact a chip on your shoulder can be a good thing. Such is the same in any pursuit; sometimes the people who don't believe in you and think you aren't worthy of being a great person can really drive you. Some of these quotes will illustrate what I mean.
Whenever someone underestimates your passion, be it for a task like mine, a strange hobby, or for another person, it really hits hard because the only way you can dispute it is by proving them wrong. I have plenty of rejection letters from editors to keep me humble whenever things seem a little too good.
So many people get convinced of their shortcomings as announced by others that they give up. This is what happened with me and baseball: I was good and getting better, but coaches said I was too small to compete at higher levels--and like a fool I believed them. I don't know where I would have gotten with it, but it would have been fun to at least give it a go. Instead, I stopped before I even got started.
This book was a turning point for me. I had some pretty informed people telling me it was a bad idea, I should do other things with my time. And yes, this book is a huge risk in so many ways. With each page I type up, I'm that much closer to the goal and I'm amazed so many of my supporters are not in the least bit surprised when I tell them I'm almost done. Their confidence was more than just well-wishing--they knew I could do it and on nights like this, it is a huge boost.
The moral of the story is that people WILL give up on you in your life; they'll think you are ill-equipped to succeed and not good enough to meet their standards. They'll turn you away, talk you out of your own self-knowledge and confidence, tell you what they think is really best for you. I always told writers who worked for me while I was an editor, "You have to believe in your own talents, even when no one else does. Even if you aren't all the way there, you'll get better if you want to -- if your passion carries you. You'll have been there alone before all the good things that are to come have bloomed, and you'll have always known they would."
As these naysayers cross your life, remember you can learn from them. It's always a safe bet to predict failure (like I do with the Red Sox)--if they lose, you can say you saw it coming, if they win, you'll be pleasantly surprised. That's easier than sticking with the underdog all the way and investing your emotion in something you can't control. So, for those of you who have supported this book, I thank you once again for taking the risk and putting your trust that I would make it happen. For those who have given up on me or thought it wouldn't happen: I'm sure you too will be pleasantly surprised, it's going to be a good book. Don't expect to see your name in the thank you section of my book.
So to summarize: you guys, my readers--rule! You're a refreshing counterpart to the negative nellies of the world. And if anyone cares, earlier this week I signed up to play adult baseball in Denver. I may not be great, but at least I'll know...
