CFC Blog #236: Rim to Rim: Random Acts of Kindness and Running as "We"
I LOVE reading about the inception of self-organizing groups. I feel a sense of magic when I think about the series of coincidences that had to line up to gather together a group who didn’t know how closely connected they already were; like here, in Lauren’s experience. And how, in my experience, beneficial coincidences seem to snowball sometimes when I continue to trust them and act from joy, generating a form of magnetism that attracts spontaneous kindness from the world around me.
The other thing that sticks out to me here is that the distance of this feat isn’t measured in feet, but the entire natural wonder itself. How very YIN, I say. I imagine our ancestors didn’t set timers for how long they planned to meditate, or distance markers for how long they should run, but went as long or far as they could until the work was done or the goal was reached.
Thanks for giving me (and all of us readers) the chance to live this experience vicariously through you, Lauren.
-Corey
Rim to Rim: Random Acts of Kindness and Running as “We”
Running is a big part of my life and I Iove to race. I was especially looking forward to it this year since I had just joined a team in New York city, but COVID caused my plans to change - suddenly the five races I had scheduled and was training for this year were cancelled.
Then Steve called - what do you think about running across the Grand Canyon with a small group of people instead?
Steve and my dad had been friends for decades, and he has become a friend of mine too the last few years. He asked if my dad and I would be interested in running with his fiance, and another couple - who, coincidentally, I knew from a college internship. They would come from Seattle, my dad and I from the east coast - and we would do it together. I JUMPED at the opportunity.
Fast forward a few months to early October – it’s 4am on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and we begin our descent with headlamps and packs. About two hours in just as the sun was rising, my toe clipped a rock and I flew through the air, tumbling and rolling down the path. When I realized what had just happened, I also realized I had miraculously just missed a giant patch of cacti (not the friendly little ones you see in Brooklyn apartments…) I also saw something had cut me about five inches down my shin and I was bleeding pretty badly. Crazy enough, it didn’t hurt…but I was a little unnerved at the sight.
The rest of the group was a bit behind, so before they could reach me, another hiker – a bigger guy with a giant pack and hiking polls – that was ahead of me whirled around to ask if I was okay. I managed to stand up and sit on a bigger rock, and he reached into his pack to offer me a big Band-Aid. That Band-Aid would not do too much (we ended up literally taping my leg together, thanks to a teammate’s first aid kit), but this act of kindness from a complete stranger lifted my spirits as worst-case scenarios flashed through my head in the stress of the moment. Luckily, all was okay.
My leg taped up, we trudged on, and seven hours later, we emerged from the South Rim. No finish line. No free beer at the end. No medals. No cheering crowds (although Steve’s brother – our ride home – did clap for us as we walked out). None of the other hikers or tourists around us knew what we had just done – we were just other hikers to them. And in many ways, we were just other hikers.
A dear friend at the start of COVID told me that races are just victory laps for your fitness – so much of our pride is tied up in the fanfare of crossing a finish line, posting a photo to Instagram, broadcasting a time on Strava. It becomes all about you.
I don’t mean to talk about Rim to Rim to humble brag at all. I tell this story because there was NO way I could have finished it without the five other people I ran with – and even the stranger with the Band-Aid. There were many times each of us needed help – and we helped each other. This “race” was not about “me,” but about “we.” An orientation that is not very common in the sport of running – or in most things in life. But wow…did it feel good for a change.
