The last morning of the race I went on a hike with some friends down to the beach and through the mountainous jungle of Port St. John in South Africa in search of the blowhole by the beach. In order to reach the blowhole we had to climb down a cliff with only a rusty old cord to hold onto.
It was a terrifying descent and I held on tight with sweaty hands and I tried not to fall down the steep cliff. All I could think about was how my mother would react if she saw me climbing down that steep cliff (sorry mom).
When I finally reached the bottom I felt a sense of overwhelming joy and adventure. We climbed a little further up until we could watch the waves crash into the rocks below and steam blow up through a small hole in the rocks.
While I was soaking in the sunshine and the feel of the soft grass as I watched the waves below, I thought about the descent down the cliff to the water and then I thought about my final descent home from the race.
The descent can be terrifying. Suddenly the race goes from the reality of my everyday life to something of a distant dream that causes me to wonder if it ever really happened. People at home are the same yet different. Baton Rouge is the same yet different. But am I the same or different?
Weeks have passed as I have jumped into a new job and into a new life. This is not the life I left before the race. It is new and different with a different pace and different places.
When I think about that descent on the final morning of the race I remember going as slow as I could and clinging to that rusty old cord. But in this descent, I have much more than a rusty old cord to hold on to. I have my best friend and Lord who has held my hand through much more than just the past 11 months.
I am different, home is different, but the important things are still the same. Life at home is exciting and challenging and growing just like my life on the race was exciting and challenging and growing. This is the new adventure.
