Beyond Doubt: The Journey to Completion

I think for all of us, it started as a joke, a cool idea - but we didn’t think it would be quite realisable. By the time I personally realised my friends were all serious, and I should probably think of an excuse to weasel myself out, it was already too late.

The idea occurred to Monika while roaming Hong Kong and unwinding from the stress of the first semester. I remember advocating for it - fully believing that it was all talk and we would never actually attempt it.

Boy, was I wrong… a realisation I only came to at the end of our last practice walk.

It was three days before; we had just finished a gorgeous sunny Sunday stroll. It ended with an amazing downhill run - straight into the cool but welcoming arms of the South China Sea.

When I emerged, rejuvenated, I got ice cream - celebrating the fact that this would be the last of it.

I was in for the surprise of a lifetime.

When I returned to our circle, most of my friends' faces were still smiling - and what’s worse - the faces that weren’t looked absolutely determined.

There was no turning back. I actually had to do this.

Foreword

The hike day

I don’t even remember climbing up HK's biggest mountain, Tai Mo Shan. That had been a highlight before, and I was anxious to see it again. I don’t remember seeing it, although I’m sure we did: there are, after all, pictures to prove it.

What made the first 16 hours of the walk so gruelling for me was the fact that no matter how far we had gone, there was always so much more to go. And I simply didn’t think my body could take it. My will also didn’t seem up to the task. That is to say - it was virtually non-existent.

I couldn’t give up. Something kept me going, maybe the thought of talking about it during recovery. There was nothing to be done, no thoughts to be had. I could only be saved by walking. And walk we did.

A state of limbo

The next memory I have is on the trail just after Lion Rock. The path, rugged and unyielding, twisted through the dense foliage like a serpent. I held a stick I had found like it was an M14. I was on a mission somewhere deep in the jungle, a highly important mission. We had regressed to our childhood selves. Gone deep inside. We had long ago given up on conversation. Our grunts, which might have passed for conversation to an unobservant bystander, were mostly there to help remind us that we were not alone and to egg each other on.

At some point, we reached an equilibrium between internal escapism and external anchoring: a state of limbo which suppressed all possible physical complaints - at least to such an extent that they could be entirely ignored.

It was at this stage too that I noticed another development; my will not shrinking but growing with every step. By reminding myself that recovery was only possible if I could brag about it to others, with each step I took I needed to finish even more. I became resolved to finish this, like nothing I had ever done before.

I finally understood something I had read in my philosophy class - nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum - nothing is done unless everything is done, by Kant Bxxiv.

Although my resolve kept growing, I realised that it could falter at any time. There is nothing too big to fail. It is the same with the will. I was only too keenly aware that the next step could be my last.

By the time it got dark, we all became quiet again. It was here that we had reached our mental and physical low and started to look inside. Which parts of us were pushing us on, which parts kept us going no matter what?

Section 3

Now we reached the worst section of the hike, Section 3. It was truly horrendous. The road had disappeared, and we were climbing on badly made and impossibly tall steps. The path seemed more like a dried-out river bed than a road. These were the hardest hours.

Luckily, I was not alone. After hours of silence, we chose this moment to start talking. I vaguely remember it was about the history of Lithuania, its king, and book smugglers. Although I couldn’t tell you a single fact that they told me, I remember looking up at the stars and being more than a little grateful that I had something to listen to. And grateful for the friends who saw my need and talked and talked.

When we made it to the next road, we gleefully discovered a bus stop with comfortable chairs, more comfort than we had felt for hours.

Sitting on those chairs, I felt as if I had discovered something great - as if I was finally living an examined life - I also knew that I would always look back on Section 3 with love. Despite the incredible struggle, I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

The next section wasn’t easy, but it was nothing compared to Section 3.

My feet ached, the straps of my bag dug into my shoulders, but on some level, I couldn’t have cared less.

The longest last bits

My final important memory was holding hands. We were completely exhausted and didn’t think we could go another step. One of us had the idea to hold hands and pull each other across the finish line.

We were all at our end, and this was our last resort. We grabbed each other's hands and took turns guiding each other toward the finish line. United against all the hardship, walking as a unit, we couldn’t fail.

Of course, I did fail, but for now, we walked in darkness with our eyes closed. It would have been the perfect ending. We had discovered things about ourselves, things we were proud of and things we would have to change, learned new songs, found friends, and had even done a little bit of exercise. All in all, a good entertaining 24 hours. I would like to finish here. I was well and truly finished.

But of course, that’s not life. The walk wasn’t finished. There was still around 10km left. We walked in complete silence. We walked slowly in complete silence but content with life.

Yet the time was running too quickly, and we had slowed down too much. In the end, there were still over 2 kilometres and only 13 minutes. I was finished, but they weren’t; they ran across the finish line and succeeded. Absolute superheroes!

Success or failure?

In the end, the very thing that motivated me – my fear of failure – is exactly what transpired. Unlike everyone else, I needed more than 24 hours. I had failed. Despite everything, I didn't quite make it. Yet, I didn't care. I was extremely content. It had been an amazing, perhaps even life-changing, experience.

What's amusing is that the motivation which had propelled me forward for more than 70km turned out to be futile. But then, what really drove me? I wasn’t sure. That was something I planned to explore further in the 105km.

Reflecting on this journey, I ponder: Was it worth all the uphill battles? Perhaps. As my favourite musical play eloquently puts it: "There’s a fine line between love and a waste of time." This experience was definitely the latter. But I have time to waste, and I did learn something.

If I had to do it all over again, I would invest in a better pair of shoes. Talk less and hold hands more.

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