One time I took my family on a death march.
The day started out as a normal walk in the park. The three of us loaded up the car with the dogs, Scout and Isis. It was one of those really hot days. Add to that, the stifling humidity, and it was one of those types of days that old people die. It was really hot, so I made sure to bring a backpack full of water. There was enough to keep three humans and two dogs hydrated for hours.
We started on the trail, and we were having a great time. In the suffocating heat, we seemed to go through the water pretty quickly. That was cool, because it sure lightened the load in the backpack I was carrying. I figured that the trail we were on made a 4 or 5 mile loop back to where we started.
You see, there eventually came a point where we were deep in the woods, exhausted and out of water. We saw no sign of the end.
Should I Stay or Should I Go?
By this point, it was too far to turn back, and too far to keep going. We also couldn’t just stop. We had no food, no more water, and no supplies. It was only supposed to be an afternoon walk, not an overnight ordeal. Stopping would create a whole new set of problems all its own.
We had to keep going. We had to fight the heat, exhaustion, and dehydration to keep moving forward. Most of all, we had to fight the temptation to stop moving. Jan’s daughter complained of blisters. Jan complained about her knees. Even Scout protested by digging a hole and flopping down in it. My own legs felt like lead, and I wanted a cool drink, but there was nothing left to drink.
It was at this point that the outing got it’s name, “The Death March.” I am the one responsible for the well being and safety of my family, and I had screwed up massively. It was my fault that we were stuck there, exhausted, demoralized, and dehydrated. We should have just gone in two miles, and turned around. We didn’t because I foolishly thought it was a short looping trail, and it wasn’t.
I kept worrying that the dogs, unable to cool down, would collapse. I thought, “How will I get them out? They’ll just die there.” They probably wouldn’t die instantly, but their bodies would shut down. Death for my puppies loomed in my mind. There was no naturally occurring water anywhere to be seen either. How would I get them out if they shut down?
I could barely pick up my own feet off the ground. After Scout plopped in a hole, I tried to carry him. I made it about 50 feet and couldn’t take anymore. He was only about 20 pounds at the time, and Isis was 3 times that weight. Carrying them was not an option.
Hopelessness
I got to the point where I didn’t just want to stop and rest. I wanted to stop and give up. Every step was pain. Every moment was one second closer to nowhere. Every breath - hopeless. Despair.
Do you ever feel like that? Every breath you take is agony, and every second is a lifetime.
We just kept pushing forward. We just kept plodding on. Finally we reached a road that goes through the park. There was a bulletin board with the park’s number on it. I pulled out my cell phone. “It looks like it has a signal. Let’s see if it works.”
Ringing… Ringing…
Salvation!
I described where we were to the best of my abilities, and they sent a ranger to come pick me up. He drove me to my car, leaving all the others there. Then he escorted my car back to where everyone else was still waiting.
We finally made it out. We finally made it home.
I think about that day sometimes, when things seem to difficult. I think about it those times that I just want to quit, and give up. Sometimes that’s how we are. Sometimes we just want to stop. Sometimes it seems so bad that we even just want to cease to be. The shroud of despair blinds us and we think that is all that there is, but it’s not.
We just need to press on. We just need to keep going, and know that it will get better.
And sometimes we need to ask for help.
2004–2008
17 responses so far ↓
1 richj // Oct 3, 2007 at 12:13 pm
Well, that’s not at all funny.
Quitting is easy, I do it all the time atleast in regards to blogging. And sometimes in real life, I give up too quickly also.
Continuing the fight is the harder path at first, but in the long run, it pays off and makes things easier down the road. Same with asking for help.
Unfortunately, I’m not very good at that, and I miss out on great opportunities.
Crap, now I’m depressed. Give me some funny.
2 Chris C // Oct 3, 2007 at 12:47 pm
Incidents like these are why I watch Survivorman religiously. I even take notes. Of course with my luck the day I got stranded was the day I left the notebook at Starbucks. I guess I could call them.
me: “Hey that notebook you found, what does it say on page 32 about bears and mating season?”
starbucks employee: “what kind of latte?”
3 RT // Oct 3, 2007 at 8:32 pm
I have felt that way a lot, lately.
However, I have come to the realization that dwelling on things doesn’t help me live my life. Just gotta keep on keeping on.
Thanks for sharing that story. I’m glad you all made it out ok.
4 Laurie // Oct 3, 2007 at 9:33 pm
“Do you ever feel like that? Every breath you take is agony, and every second is a lifetime”
Hell yes! And quite a bit. It’s that feeling of having people depend on you to get everyone out of a bad situation. You tell them we have to keep going, all the while you just want to give up. But we all do it. We all keep going.
The upside of a Death March is after your safely home. The ordinary and mundane feels awesome, when compared with your ordeal.
Oh, and is it possible? Was Fitch actually wrong thinking it was only a short looping trail? How can this be? Fitch is always right? or is it now Fitch is sometimes right? (Fisr) Say it isn’t so.
5 Chris C // Oct 3, 2007 at 9:51 pm
This post is up today. The final installment of the documentary “War” was on tonight and in it they talked about the Bataan Death March.
Very ironic.
6 Insolublog // Oct 3, 2007 at 10:43 pm
The only thing I can think of that would be worse, is the feeling in your legs two days later.
7 Fiar // Oct 3, 2007 at 11:41 pm
Rich It wasn’t intended to be funny. That’s why it had the “read more” thingy. I’ll have something funny when I get to it. Just go start a new blog and delete it in the meantime.
Chris I like that show too, but it’s not going to help much if you hit dehydration before you can find a source of water. If that happens, you’re pretty much fked.
RT I have come to the realization that dwelling on things doesn’t help me live my life.
Super! Now focus on the things you want from life. Don’t worry if you don’t know how to get them, just visualize the outcome you want, and the how to part will come on it’s own.
Laurie It does make it easy to appreciate even the little things, like a cold drink, a soft bed, and a refreshing shower.
Insolublog It’s great to see you around again. Why is it that it always takes 2 days for the soreness to really kick in?
8 richj // Oct 4, 2007 at 1:37 am
“Just go start a new blog and delete it in the meantime.”
Eh, I don’t find that to be too much fun anymore. I think I’ll start trolling instead.
9 Wild Bill // Oct 4, 2007 at 4:49 am
I should probably start blogging again. I have plenty of water and its only like 10 feet from my bed to my couch. I won’t even need to call a ranger unless I get lost in a pile of dirty clothes.
10 Grundir the Implacable // Oct 4, 2007 at 12:29 pm
What was this ranger’s name? I have some unfinished business with one.
11 Fiar // Oct 5, 2007 at 10:29 pm
Rich You might be interested in the The Art of eWar. Flame on.
Wild Bill Yes. Get off your ass and post something.
Grundir I think he called himself Troy Van Dellen.
12 Skul // Oct 6, 2007 at 6:40 pm
OK, I have to ask. How does one become lost in a small town city park??
13 RT // Oct 6, 2007 at 9:11 pm
Fitch, you have just been PWND!
That elicited a belly-laugh, Skul. Good one!
14 Fiar // Oct 6, 2007 at 10:51 pm
Because it was a 1700 acre state park Snapperhead.
15 RT // Oct 7, 2007 at 12:03 am
Meooooooow.
16 Fiar // Oct 8, 2007 at 3:05 pm
Grrrrr!
17 RT // Oct 8, 2007 at 7:29 pm
Heh. ;P
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