Am I Sisyphus?

In Greek mythology, the story of Sisyphus is about a man who was punished for eternity by endlessly having to push a massive boulder up a hill as it would roll back down each time just before reaching the top.  Some interpretations of the story view this struggle as describing an endless and pointless task.  But another, written by Albert Camus in his essay, The Myth of Sisyphus, concludes by explaining that it’s the struggle that “is enough to fill a man’s heart.”  The piece ends with the line, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Getting back on the horse . . .

In many ways, right now I feel like Sisyphus.  But I’m not happy.  I see the story of Sisyphus a bit differently.  While he may have been condemned to push the boulder up the hill for eternity, any real-world interpretation of this must account for our free will to engage in such struggle.  And while struggle brings change and growth, it does not guarantee happiness.

Last week, I wrote about all I achieved in training for the NYC Marathon that I failed to run due tearing my hamstring five days before the race.  That remains true, and I remain certain that the emotional pain comes from a good place.  It represents all that I accomplished.  But a week later, as I look towards training for next year’s race, the scars are real.  I always knew that running a marathon is fragile, but perhaps naively, I didn’t realize it was this fragile.

There’s a deep meaning behind the expression, “getting back on the horse.”  It’s not just about starting over again.  It represents the fear and anxiety of taking on a process that resulted in pain.  It’s not easy, and there are times in my life where I let that insecurity hold me back.

As a young teenager, I once fell while ice skating and landed on my bare head.  I was diagnosed with a concussion, and it took several months before I tried to go skating again.  When I did, I was afraid, and I left the ice.  Several years later, I tried again, but the joy was lost.  I struggled at it and never really took it up again.  Deep down, I knew that I missed the opportunity to get back on the horse when I waited for so long after my concussion.  The fear just continued to mount after that.  There’s nothing out of the ordinary in this story, but it speaks to why, it can be better to be Sisyphus than to use one’s free will to give up.  Sisyphus never allowed the self-doubt he surely endured to interfere with his pursuit to reach the top.

Trying over and over does not mean condemnation to failure . . .

Another area where I differ in my interpretation of Sisyphus is whether he was truly condemned to keep failing.  A quote I recently heard that rings so true to me is, “it’s only impossible because it hasn’t been done yet.”  This, again, is where I feel like Sisyphus.  It’s not that it was impossible to reach the top of the hill with the boulder, it’s just that it doesn’t always happen simply because you try hard.

More than ever, I know there’s no guarantee that I will finish the marathon.  I’ve said that before, but what makes this dream so special is that it once felt impossible.  Yet, through the experience I’ve gained from training and trying, I know it was only ever impossible because I haven’t done it yet.  The only way to change that is to keep trying.  As Andrew Bird wrote in his song, Sisyphus, “I’d rather fail like a mortal than flail like a god on a lightning rod.”  Which brings me to my next lesson about Sisyphus . . .

The only failure is the failure to learn . . .

If there’s any true tragedy in the story, it’s that Sisyphus kept doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.  That’s widely known as the definition of insanity, and it is here where I refuse to believe I am Sisyphus.  The only way to get that boulder onto the top of the hill is to learn from the prior failures.  So, as I take this time to clear my head, start physical therapy, and reflect on the journey, I’ve repeatedly asked myself “What did I do wrong?”  And “What would I do differently?”  I have some thoughts on that ranging from how I respond to pain and discomfort to how I balance training and life.  I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’ve learned from this.  I know my body better – both in terms of how much it can do and when it needs rest or treatment.  I know my mind better too – in terms of its ability to focus intensely on this and its need to let go at times.  And I know that I just got so close that I cannot let fear stop me from this.  But none of that equates to happiness. 

Sisyphus need not feel happy . . .

The feeling of not getting that boulder to the top of the hill leaves me feeling empty – more so than I knew last week.  As I walked through the city last Monday, I could spot some of those who ran the marathon often by the way they walked so gingerly.  They did so with joy, as some even wore the medal they earned.  I walked gingerly with them, but with no medal to show for it.

Instead, I stand here at the bottom of the hill ready to try once again push to the boulder to the top.  As I do so, I realize that I don’t even want to feel happy yet.  If I did, it would lessen the desire to reach the ultimate result.  I want happiness to come from success.  I want it to be part of what I am striving to achieve.

As I’ve written before, I have visualized the marathon so often including countless times I’ve seen myself crossing the finish line.  While there’s countless growth and reward in the journey, I see the smile that comes as the medal is put around my neck.  Happiness lies in getting the boulder to the top of the hill.  Not because it is the destination, but because it is a step in the larger journey where I then want to reach for more.  Sisyphus need not feel happy yet.  I wouldn’t want him to.  I want to know that he is reaching for the emotional reward that comes from achieving the goal.

There’s a difference between sadness and despair.  Despair is void of hope.  The sadness I feel today, and that I want to imagine Sisyphus feeling, does not and should not take away the all that is gained from the struggle, nor should it prevent the courage to pursue the dream.  Sadness is not, as Camus says, “the rock’s victory.”  Rather it is the hope for the smile to come when the goal is achieved.  Camus isn’t entirely wrong in his penultimate line when he wrote, “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”  But it need not be filled entirely with joy.  It’s ok for sadness to hold a place in the heart that motivates the desire to succeed.  It’s ok to take pride in the journey and feel the emotional pain of failing to achieve the dream.  It’s ok to hope for the elation that comes with the medal.  For me, it’s what drives the desire to spend eternity trying, if need be.

Aaron