It's all uphill from here... Part 4

When we all reached the starting point, Brother Toby begins to beat a drum he is carrying and we start out on a leisurely pace. At this point we are on the main road and heading into a curve that obscures the terrain ahead.

Once around the bend, I notice that we will be traveling away from the sanctuary down a steep sloping grade on the main road. Immediately, I become concerned as 1.) We are heading away from the Peace Pagoda 2.) We are quickly descending the steepest hill I have encountered in a long time (Picture Mount Doom from Lord of the Rings) 3.) The Finish Line is at the Pagoda which was at a much higher elevation than the starting line. Being the smart guy that I am, I realized what goes down, must come up and I steadied my pace, because cadence is everything.

This would be the last I see of Greg because he is practically running. So here I am walking downhill (or more accurately downmountain), without my walking buddy or IPod (which was in the car because I didn't want to be rude to said walking buddy), quickly realizing that with every step down would equal a steep climb up and now questioning my ability to do this task, as I had pretty much "atrophied" during the winter months.

After what had to be a mile and a quarter (although if this was a 2 mile walk as advertised it should've been only 3/4 of a mile at this point), the procession turned around and began the long, steep climb of death. I saw Greg for one last time as he barrelled past me in the other direction. I maintained a comfortable pace and climbed, and climbed, and climbed. When I was younger, I was diagnosed with asthma and have taken the holistic treatment plan of inactivity to keep it in check (no inhalers for me!). So effective is this plan I often forget I have asthma. Well, I won't be forgetting it anytime soon as my chest became quite uncomfortable constricted and my breathing became labored, and, as with any exertion, my face must have been a deep shade of red. The same color red that caused elementary school teachers to insist that I sit out recess because the color is just plain scary on a pasty white guy as myself.

I must have been quite the site because at one point I saw a monk on the sidelines and he deeply bowed to me. No one else but me. I figured that he must have seen my apparent respiratory attack as a sign of my dedication to his religion and recognized it with a bow, when in all actuality, I was avoiding a scene by needing a rescue by the side of the road.

Finally, I reached the point where we had started. With renewed energy, I started up the dirt road to the Peace Pagoda. I figured I was past the worst of it. No just a short climb to the Pagoda. I was very wrong. The hill became even steeper, so steep that I had to reach out and use the roots on the path to help me climb this mountain. Luckily the hill plateaued at 3 different points and I rested at each, being passed by the elderly and small children, who looked like they were on the leisurely stroll that I was promised but had not received.

Just when I thought I would give up and walk to the car, I saw, at the top of the steepest rise yet, the Pagoda and the finish line just up ahead. With my last ounce of strength and determination, I crawled up to the top, keeping the finish line in my sites. I fought for air and miraculously stayed upright, knowing people have had an easier time running a marathon than I had climbing this mountain.

Just as the finish line was within my reach, a volunteer told me to get off the course, as the runners were about to arrive. I was directed off the path, and not allowed to cross the finish line. There would be no paper peace swan for me, no sense of accomplishment that crossing that finish line would have symbolized, just an orange wedge and a Dixie cup of water.