What Matters Most

Hearing the distinctive sound of a cowbell being enthusiastically shaken had become customary in the many hours that preceded this point in time. But at this ungodly hour of the endless night it had become a little rare to find anyone still willing to encourage those still moving ever closer to the finish line, albeit at an ostensibly agonizingly slow pace.

Perhaps a cow had finally had it and was charging towards me. Any bovine, sheep or goat that calls home the side of UTMB trail had been unable to get any rest the last couple of nights as runners briefly flash their blinding lights into their eyes which have long lost their characteristic gleam of curiosity.

Unexpectedly, yet not surprisingly, my ever patient partner in crime and life has made it to this brief stretch of road in the final trudge towards Chamonix to offer her wise yet loving words as well as some very loud cow bell agitations. Barely any words are however forthcoming from my side. However, no words are actually necessary. She knows I need her more than any of the mandatory gear I'm carrying. She understands that I am somehow emotionally destroyed, even though I am very close to finishing off what I started three years earlier. She knows . . . and it almost feels like an unfair advantage to have someone so supportive by my side.

The elation of crossing that finish line was subdued. In the end, all I wanted was to thank and embrace her, and talk about this character-building experience with her as soon as the clock stopped ticking.