Blog #576: We’re Gonna’ See the Wions

It felt like I was walking in an oven.
360 miles across Italy.

“Just a little bit further.”
Those were my constant self-urging words.

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It’s how I keep will going.

When I think I have no “juice” left in my legs or heart, when I feel 100% cooked, defeated and think I can’t go on…I remember the words.

“Just a little bit further.”

And then I set my sights on ONE short-distance landmark ahead.

The turn.
The tree.
The town.

The page.
The chapter.
The hour.

“Just a little bit further.”

That’s how I succeeded in walking from Milan to Rome.

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It’s easy to want to quit.

I know the feeling extra well.

In walking across eight countries, authoring seven books, running a 100-mile race, biking 4,000 miles across the U.S. twice and surviving hundreds of heart-aching moments…I’ve wanted to quit an uncountable number of times.

But I know…

Every tough challenge finds its moment where it seemingly gets too hard.

And when it starts to feel like that, I focus on one thing:

“Just a little bit further.”

Because I’ve learned that’s the distance we need to go.

To experience the breakthrough.

To achieve what we want.

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I was reminded of the lesson again this past Sunday.

A family of four was visiting the Marina. One little person was being carried by the dad. The littlest person was being pushed in a stroller by the mom.

As I was walking by the four, the oldest little one was staring at me as his head laid on his dad’s shoulder. I said “Hi.” That was the icebreaker that broke his trance.

“We’re gonna’ see the wions,” he said.

“The lions?” I asked.

The dad jumped in.

“He means we’re going to see the sea lions. He’s talked about seeing them all week. Are they still in the Marina?”

I said, “They are! And if we’re lucky, we’ll see 100 of them. Listen…and you can hear them now.”

We all stopped…and listened.

The oldest little boy said, “I can’t hear them.”

I said, “They’re right up there. Just a little bit further.”

“How much further?” the mom asked.

“They’re just at the end of this sidewalk,” I pointed.

Trying to encourage his family, the dad said: “We can make it.”

As I walked ahead of the four, I turned back to hear the littlest one start to cry.

The family needed a timeout to calm the noise. The quiet wasn’t happening.

I secretly wished for them: “Please…just a little bit further.”

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As I continued walking…

The sea lions’ voices became extra loud.

Their strong smell richly tainted the air.

And then…there they were.

As anticipated.

A hundred of them.

Laid out over the boat slips.

I watched them bark at each other.

I watched them play in the water.

I watched them gawk up at the warm sun with eyes closed.

And mostly…

I saw them lay body to body with fins on one another as if they were great friends.

I turned to see if the family was getting closer.

They had turned around and were headed back to their car.

“Dang!”

They’d been so close.

But they didn’t get to see what they’d come to see.

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“Just a little bit further.”

It’s how I got to each town in walking 750 miles across Japan.

It’s how you’ll find the breakthrough in rehabilitating from surgery.

It’s how all of us get to see the sea lions.

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“Just a little bit further.”

Sometimes it’s necessary for success.

Sometimes it’s necessary for survival.

And although I know not everyone is willing to go that far…

I’m hoping you’re one of the ones who will.

S.