What is it that draws us to take on a challenge? Is it pride, intrinsic fulfillment, personal growth, or something completely different? Why did the guy climb a mountain? Because it was there?
A year or two ago, I decided I wanted to take on the Manitou Incline—2,768 steps, 2,000 feet of elevation gain, one mile long, and an average incline of 41%, with some sections as steep as 68%. It was not a popular vacation destination option when it was proposed to the family—they are much more of the lounge on the beach with a tropical drink in hand kinda group. Yet, despite the opposition, I was determined to make it happen and actually persuaded my two youngest kids to humor the old man and tag along—after all, there would be plenty of other fun things to do and see while on the trip and dad was buying. So, on September 10, 2025, the three of us set off on a quick trip to Colorado Springs—giving ourselves only three days to acclimate to the altitude jump from 600 feet above sea level to what would be 8,500 feet at the top of the incline. On top of that, the week before we left, I came down with the first cold I had in more than three years—but at that point, there was no turning back.
Well, it definitely wasn't easy, but I think the worst part of the whole ordeal was realizing that though I had finally made it to the top, theme from Rocky playing in my head as I took the final few steps—at a blistering pace of just under two hours (not my best mile time for sure), I still had a 3.5 mile downhill trip around the back side of the mountain with very achey knees, then another 1.3 mile walk through town to grab a bite to eat and then find our car. And yes, we did pass by someone on their fourth trip down of I'm not sure how many for the day—training for a future marathon on the incline, with 13 total trips up and down. I may be aspirational, but "no thanks!"
So, why did "I" do it? Partially, just to see if I could—but for the most part, I was trying to break the bad habit I had developed for always doing the easy thing. We make thousands of choices every day—many of them quite trivial, like what to wear or where and what to eat or one of the toughest for many, what are we going to watch on Netflix? I had gotten into a very bad habit of avoiding the harder things—and I knew that if I didn't somehow break this habit, eventually, even the easy things would quickly start getting harder to do as well. Plus, I have been hearing God a lot lately, also telling me that I needed to break this habit. Jesus may have said, "my yolk is easy and my burden is light" but just five chapters later He also says, "take up your cross and follow me." Doing the easy thing all of the time had prevented me from taking some very important next steps in my spiritual growth over the past few years—opportunities that were lost forever. I no longer wish to miss these chances—practicing with hard choices over easy choices now, will allow me to later choose kindness over easy, generosity over easy, selflessness over easy, humility over easy, taking the time to listen to a friend in need, offering prayer and help, being comfortable in inconvenience or going out of my way. Sure, there is nothing so virtuous in climbing 2,768 steps up to the top of a mountain in Colorado, but if it can make all of the other choices easier down the road, then it was totally worth it.
A year or two ago, I decided I wanted to take on the Manitou Incline—2,768 steps, 2,000 feet of elevation gain, one mile long, and an average incline of 41%, with some sections as steep as 68%. It was not a popular vacation destination option when it was proposed to the family—they are much more of the lounge on the beach with a tropical drink in hand kinda group. Yet, despite the opposition, I was determined to make it happen and actually persuaded my two youngest kids to humor the old man and tag along—after all, there would be plenty of other fun things to do and see while on the trip and dad was buying. So, on September 10, 2025, the three of us set off on a quick trip to Colorado Springs—giving ourselves only three days to acclimate to the altitude jump from 600 feet above sea level to what would be 8,500 feet at the top of the incline. On top of that, the week before we left, I came down with the first cold I had in more than three years—but at that point, there was no turning back.
Well, it definitely wasn't easy, but I think the worst part of the whole ordeal was realizing that though I had finally made it to the top, theme from Rocky playing in my head as I took the final few steps—at a blistering pace of just under two hours (not my best mile time for sure), I still had a 3.5 mile downhill trip around the back side of the mountain with very achey knees, then another 1.3 mile walk through town to grab a bite to eat and then find our car. And yes, we did pass by someone on their fourth trip down of I'm not sure how many for the day—training for a future marathon on the incline, with 13 total trips up and down. I may be aspirational, but "no thanks!"
So, why did "I" do it? Partially, just to see if I could—but for the most part, I was trying to break the bad habit I had developed for always doing the easy thing. We make thousands of choices every day—many of them quite trivial, like what to wear or where and what to eat or one of the toughest for many, what are we going to watch on Netflix? I had gotten into a very bad habit of avoiding the harder things—and I knew that if I didn't somehow break this habit, eventually, even the easy things would quickly start getting harder to do as well. Plus, I have been hearing God a lot lately, also telling me that I needed to break this habit. Jesus may have said, "my yolk is easy and my burden is light" but just five chapters later He also says, "take up your cross and follow me." Doing the easy thing all of the time had prevented me from taking some very important next steps in my spiritual growth over the past few years—opportunities that were lost forever. I no longer wish to miss these chances—practicing with hard choices over easy choices now, will allow me to later choose kindness over easy, generosity over easy, selflessness over easy, humility over easy, taking the time to listen to a friend in need, offering prayer and help, being comfortable in inconvenience or going out of my way. Sure, there is nothing so virtuous in climbing 2,768 steps up to the top of a mountain in Colorado, but if it can make all of the other choices easier down the road, then it was totally worth it.
