I like to think of the morning as a high school bully. Some may label me as a “morning person” because I possess the rare ability to surge out of bed with vigor. I can roll with the punches, laugh it off, and confront that morning monster. Some days, the very idea of addressing that morning bully plows into my mind from the second I regain consciousness. Before I could draw a conscious breath, my brain is flooded with worries, doubts, and regrets of the pain yet to come. This was one of those days…
When the first inklings of my relentless alarm began to trickle into my dreamscape, the sun was hours from breaching the clouds. A faint glow protruded from the windows, and my next actions are best described as falling out of the top bunk. My body pleaded with aches and pains, but my concentration did not waver. The bully will NOT get its way today. What happened over the next fifteen minutes is doubtful, for my brain seems to have repressed the pain. This flash of consciousness was a harsh transition from the comforts of my mattress to the harsh Icelandic landscape. Did you know there is a specific word here for dying outside? That is beside the point. My feet fell into their usual rhythm and the corners of my mouth began to tug outward as it opened in a cavernous grin. Mouth open and tongue wide, I could trace each individual snowflake as it meandered through my esophagus and into my stomach. The cold in my stomach was quickly rendered insignificant by the cold across my jaw, for the wind blew with such ferocity that the snow traveled horizontal. A one-inch snow buffer met each step, and the tendrils of ice only tickled the outsides of my feet. My smile grew outwardly wild and uncontrollable like cracks propagating through an icy pond. I literally could not contain a whooping call of triumph. In a moment of acute realization my thoughts progressed as follows: I am in Iceland, I am running a half-marathon in a snowstorm, and I feel FANTASTIC.
Now as usual, my train of thought derailed from reality and I was soon cruising into a world of reflective triumph. What have I gained to reach this glorious moment in life, knowledge, awareness, or confidence? There isn’t a word for this feeling, so I would rather use analogies. In the ephemeral, physical moment I am experiencing, it is the literal example of practice paying off. I have built my way up from stationary sunshine to laughing maniacally through a heinous half-marathon. This isn’t the first time my jaw has frozen useless, or even the second time that my feet felt like iron weights. Through failure and fatigue I have worked myself to a point of progress and power. This ideology is analogous to almost every challenge in life, and my favorite way to address a challenge is physically. I love to see and experience progress. I am a doer, I always have been a doer, and doers motivate me. This entire semester experience has armed me with knowledge. Instead of dragging my tired legs up miles of hills, through seemingly impenetrable walls of wind, and flooding rain, I have pushed my brain to soak and accept information that challenges every part of my life. I have struggled through mental strife, overcoming hypocrisy, and changing my habits. This is the toughest mental battle so far, but in it lays the greatest reward. Who knows if humanity will ever get its chance to release that guttural cry of triumph, but each day we wake up and face that morning bully is a step closer to our goals.
Brenton Kreiger