Fear is a Nasty Thing.

Hey, it’s Tyler Head

I hope you’ve had a good week.

I hope this week’s writing helps you pause, take a deep breath, and remind you to savor the journey.

Just a reminder: If you want to respond - I’ll gladly read it and respond accordingly.

Sometimes it’s about consistently showing up.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Thus, here I am. It’s Thursday afternoon, and made little time this past week to write about the great gift of being with people. Ironically enough, I have three magnificent people (whom I haven’t seen in quite some time) 3 blocks south of my office at our house, and I am eager to get out of here. So with much grace, I am going to go live with it rather than write about it.

So, I thought I’d drop a different kind of story into your inbox this morning.

This one is a reflection from a run I did last fall in the Grand Canyon with a group of 18 others from all around the country.

Fear is a nasty thing. But the sun always rises.

I recently finished the Rim to Rim trail run in the Grand Canyon in one long effort.

It was a part of a larger group of men - eighteen exactly.

We had a midnight start time. But the event started 7 hours earlier at a local pizza/pasta joint, with introductions, brief stories, prayer, and logistics. Partnered with a deep anticipation for what was about to come.

After that, we all went our separate ways to pack our gear. This run was self-supported - other than the water spigots along the trail and some fantastic human beings who surprised us at the north rim with warmth and garlic bread.

An hour before start time.

Gear was packed.

Attempted to sleep for an hour or so.

The alarm goes off at 11:15ish.

I and two buddies drive over to the South Kaibab Trailhead.

The energy was absolutely electric.

It was 11:50 pm, and lightning off in the distance. Spirits were high, headlamps on, and music blaring from a speaker. There was an air of confidence mixed with a thick cough-syrup-like dosage of healthy nervousness.

…….47.5 miles and 12,000 feet of elevation.

The group standing around the parking lot was littered with fathers, husbands, brothers, friends, and coaches of all ages. Some were in the early stages of their career, and others were deep into their career, busy making an impact wherever they were. I was surrounded by men who had experienced loss, pain, joy, sadness, excitement, victory, and defeat and were looking to take another go at something challenging.

And they all, we all, were headed into the darkness together.

Literally, as we started, lightning struck across the canyon and lit up the sky; 18 voices yelled out, solidifying one known truth to us all - we were coming for the darkness.

I am light, and because I am light, I am the type of man that runs into darkness. The 17 others are that type too.

Odds are, if you’re reading this, you are too.

I had really never run in darkness for that long. But my eyes were and had been accustomed.

Like the darkness at the start of this run, so are the mindset and negative thought patterns that fear leaves us in.

But I knew two things;

• One foot in front of the other.

• Being in lockstep with buddies would keep me moving forward.

• Steady and consistent, much like the heart of my Father, the sun will rise.

Fear is a nasty thing when it becomes your norm.

Fear of making the wrong decision

Fear of not having control

Fear of being too much

Fear of being not enough

Fear of failure

Fear of Success

Fear of not being chosen

Fear of never being chosen

Fear of not living up to your parent’s expectation

Fear of not doing or being enough

Fear of letting go of what it should look like

Fear is a tricky thing.

Fear is a master manipulator and a magnificently cunning temptress.

It has this wild way of blinding you - to the beauty of this journey we call life, tempting you to believe that how it should or could be might be better.

Whispering, captivating little lies, and blinding you to life's everyday beauty.

The beauty of the journey is something I am learning to savor.

& during this experience, it looked and felt a lot like the following;

the rising and setting of the sun,

the suffering through hours of inclination and declination,

the many people who encourage you as you take one step at a time,

the many people you spent hours with training,

the sacrifice of time and energy of those nearest you during your preparation,

the many people who wish you good luck,

the brisk morning air and chirping birds,

the sweet smell of coffee partnered with a honey-waffle stinger,

the ancient canyons carved by years of weather,

the immensity of towering rock walls above and below you,

in lockstep with others,

head down, head up, head all around but taking a step nonetheless,

You see, we started this trail in the dark.

By the stroke of dawn, we were climbing up North Kaibab

And the view when we looked back, we saw nothing but beauty.

Fear tells a story, and it aches to steal our presence.

As we came to the top of the North Rim…….

I had a choice - I could believe fear or turn around and run that trail in a different light.

Dear Friends, it takes much courage:

To not let fear have the final say,

To accept our need for the company of others as we do hard things,

To notice the beauty and truth, behind you, beside you, and all around you,

To relinquish control and press into the joy of the journey.

As I reread this and get ready to share, I am reminded that in both my fear and courage, it is a gift to be with and be be’d with.

Talk again soon.

Thanks for being you!