It cannot all be warm, sunny weather with its easy and endless motivation. The get-up, let’s-do-this energy that is summonable and expendable at a whim with nary a care. It cannot all be pleasant movements, relaxing runs, and personal bests that seem to be handed out like free candy in the beginning stages of any undertaking, when enthusiasm is high and goals are clear and, seemingly, attainable. It, for damn sure, is not infinite growth in finite space and time. The universe imposes limits—physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Even imaginary ones.
There will be (and, maybe, must be) some sort of struggle encountered and overcome on the way to any goal.
Perhaps it is a slight strain or a more serious injury that derails one’s training program. Maybe it is fatigue that preys on one’s focus. Or a loss of appetite for disappointment, an aversion to bitter medicine, as one encounters failure after failure. There is, inevitably, a point at which any task is reduced to routine or monotony, when the grunt work needs to be put in.
In these moments and emotional and mental places of being, it becomes crucial to know that any bit of effort is an investment without clear, calculable, or enjoyable short-term gain—rather, every moment spent working through the plateau and the boredom becomes a faith-based exercise with the vague hope for long-term yield. Any artist that has laboured through creative stagnation, any athlete that has worked their way through a losing streak, and any leader who has endured great periods of doubt will testify to this truth: the winning is in the showing up, every day, even when victory is not promised.
Everything, even success is seasonal. When the winter of the body, soul, and mind arrives is when the grind work really begins. No glory. No pomp and circumstance. Just good, ol’ fashioned elbow grease and sweat. The kind that no one ever talks about when they have made it to the top, the type that is not worthy of song or rhyme.
And if the work is done, the season will change too.
Always.
Rémy Ngamije is an award-winning Rwandan-born Namibian author, editor, publisher, photographer, literary educator, and entrepreneur. He is the founder of The Forge.