“Progress, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great results cannot be achieved at once; and we must be satisfied to advance in life as we walk, step by step.”
I got back on the proverbial horse this past week and resumed my workouts at Buckeye Wellness Center. On Thursday I had a really good workout in which I was able to notice some slight activation in my hip flexors. I realize that I have a very, very long way to go, but I try to celebrate every little victory for what it is – something I was told I would never do again. The frustration pendulum constantly swings back and forth with a spinal cord injury. It is one of those injuries where what you get out never equals what you put in. It can be especially frustrating for individuals (like myself) who are results-oriented and often measure success by the visible progress that is made. However, I also continue to tell myself that these injuries take time, extraordinary amounts of time, before results are sometimes seen. A true reminder that “inch by inch it’s a cinch; yard by yard it’s awfully hard.”
In 1995, Will Steger set up the International Arctic Project which allowed people to follow a dogsled expedition he led to the North Pole via an online journal the famous explorer kept. I remember my own trek to the library each day on the campus of Lehigh University to read the daily update transmitted from the frozen, barren landscape. I clearly recall being so moved by one of those passages that I printed it out and still have it today. In this particular blog entry, he spoke about the monotony of the day-to-day grind and how slow the pace of progress seemed to move. He would use a pen to mark each day on the inside of his tent wall. The time between each mark at the end of the day seemed excruciatingly slow, however, as he would look at his tent wall at the end of each month he noticed big chunks of marks which served to remind him of how far his team of mushers had actually come.
For whatever reason, Steger’s insights on progress struck a chord with me all those years ago, and seem even so much more relevant in my life today. I can find myself growing frustrated with the molasses-like measure in which my body seems to repair itself. However, I can then look at pictures and journal entries from just two years ago, which serve as my tent marks, and reinforce the fact of how far I to have come.
Yesterday I was possessed to have my aide, Tanya, transfer me from my wheelchair to the living room couch, where I could sit for an hour. This isn’t something I would have ever envisioned myself getting excited about years ago, when I was still able to accomplish this meaningless feat on my own accord. But now it’s different, as are most things in my life. Whereas the vast majority of people move through their days in search of new adventures, those of us who are paralyzed will spend a lifetime seeking to repeat the old things we used to do. But I am not ashamed of the fact that I search out ways to replicate past tasks that never seemed such an achievement when I took them for granted. Rather, I am proud of my ability to keep finding ways to repeat the past.
Progress comes in all shapes and forms. Sometimes it comes quick, while at other times it meanders to its own tempo. To some, progress might be finally renovating a room in their house; to others it might mean realizing that big promotion at work; and yet for some it means sitting on the couch. Progress is relative. And like the Scottish author, Samuel Smiles, tells us, “Progress, of the best kind, is comparatively slow.”
Thank you to the Darch, et al. family once again for their holiday offering. I continue to be humbled by the prayers and support I receive on a daily basis from everyone! Stand Strong!
Scott