The Rocket and The Ocean

Warning: may contain potentially irritating metaphysical content.

Breakthrough!

Last night I finished a 6 mile run with an average pace of 6’50”/ mile. This isn’t an earth-shattering pace, but it’s a personal best for a 5+ mile run:

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Distance: 6.01 miles

Duration: 41’11”

Pace: 6’50” / mile

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One of the advantages of setting aside a certain amount of time each day for training is that it allows one time to think (for better or worse.) So, I hope you’ll indulge me if I get a little philosophical in this entry. There are a few things that have been rattling around in my brain during my past few runs. The thoughts I’ve been mulling over are intimately connected to both the qualities required for endurance training, as well as those required to support a loved one during illness. Or, indeed, those required to endure one’s own illness. So, bear with me.

I’ve become mildly obsessed with the Apollo space program. The recent fortieth anniversary of Apollo 11 and my coincidental reading of a fantastic book by Alan Shepherd and Deke Slayton called “Moon Shot” has me pondering the nature of courage. What kind of courage does it take to climb atop a three hundred sixty foot rocket bound for another planet? What kind of courage does it take to face imminent death and persist? In a sense, I suppose, we’re all in this position from the moment we’re born, but choose not to think about it too much most of the time. The universal nature of mortality and our engagement with the concept (or lack there of) leads to other questions.

What kind of courage does it take to face an illness?

What kind of courage does it take to attempt the impossible?

What kind of courage does it take to die a good death?

In my experience, there is a direct relationship between strength and courage. One can have strength without courage, but not (I think) courage without strength. For this reason, if we are to be courageous in our lives, we must understand the nature of our own strength and how best to apply our energies.

Too often our culture glorifies one specific type of strength to the detriment of others; strength without proper direction or perspective. We glorify the strength of the explosion, the strength of warfare, the rocket, the monster-truck. This kind of strength:

The power of an eight hundred foot jet of fire pushing a rocket through the stratosphere at the speed of a rifle bullet. While this kind of energetic application of will-power certainly has its place, I think we’ve lost sight of the big picture.

One alternate mode of strength is one that allows for sustained effort over time, with a proper and intelligent application of energies. It is less exciting, but in the end it will overcome any obstacle. I’d like to propose that this basic dichotomy can be understood as “Rocket” versus “Ocean.” The Rocket blasts and rages and spews fire and “gets the job done, dammit!” The ocean endures and persists and, over time, has the strength to wear down entire mountain ranges and to change the face of the planet.

What are we missing by placing so much faith in the Rocket; this aggressive, explosive mode of facing adversity? I believe we miss the power and utility inherent in endurance and perseverance. The grandeur of an exploding firework shell may be impressive and even awesome, but it doesn’t have much staying power. We too often lose sight of the fact that many of the most difficult events in our lives are are not immediate crises in which a sudden burst of willpower will get us through, but rather circumstances in which we must call upon deep reserves of strength; reserves we may not even be aware of. So what happens when we bring the Rocket to bear on a situation that requires the Ocean?

What happens when we bring the sprinters approach to a marathon?

What happens when we bring the energy of high-explosives to the bedside of a sick loved one; or indeed to our own deathbed?

I contend that such misapplications happen all the time and the results are disastrous. When we are unable to “fix” a given situation through a blast of effort, we will inevitably feel that we have failed and we retreat into emotional isolation. We become exhausted and confused. We lose our ability to help those around us in any meaningful way.

I propose that we temper our obsession with “power” with a healthy respect for the Ocean; for endurance contains within it many invaluable qualities - humility, forbearance, tolerance, perspective, contemplativeness, determination, fidelity. I propose that we learn to glorify endurance as a quality fundamental to a fulfilling life and a good death.