Earlier this year, I wrote about recommitting to walking in 2025. I’m happy to announce (with a proud smile) that I’ve kept that promise. More than that, I didn’t let the fact that the year is already nearing its end discourage me from starting. Alongside the joy of keeping my word, however, comes the honesty that the journey has not been easy. Some of those hilly stretches of road are downright punishing.
After each walk, the hours that follow often turn into a battle against fatigue. I push myself to stay awake and complete my tasks, even when my body feels drained. And yet, despite the burning legs and heavy eyelids, there has been reward in the routine: the simple pleasure of admiring striking house designs (I’ve always been a fan of beautiful homes), the surprise of a scenic view, and the encounters with dogs whose personalities are as bold as their barks — proof that dynamite truly comes in small packages.
When I first returned to the road, I seriously considered rerouting to flatter ground — anything to avoid those brutal inclines. But somewhere along the way, my mindset began to shift. I stopped looking for shortcuts and started choosing to face the challenge. Not because the hills suddenly became easier, but because they are necessary.
Some sections of the road, unkind as they are, are building me in ways a straight, smooth path never could. The lesson echoes Romans 5:3–4 — struggle produces perseverance — and the old expression: A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.
The truth is, no one likes difficulty. We try in every way possible to avoid it. Yet, more often than not, struggle serves a purpose. This is not at all a way of glamorizing struggle, but rather recognizing that, while painful, it often forges something in us that comfort never could.
This truth stayed with me while watching Bob Marley: One Love on Netflix last weekend. There’s a particularly moving scene after Bob’s cancer diagnosis, when the actor playing him says:
“I never know so much struggle… from the day I born. Everything just happened, you know?”
To which the actress playing his wife, Rita Marley, tearfully responds:
“And you can’t see di reason? All dat struggle — that’s the source of your power. You nuh see?”
Bob Marley — a global icon — endured his share of hardship. And yet, his struggles shaped him into the reggae legend the world came to know. I’ve observed it to be the pattern with many who leave a lasting mark: their greatness is not in spite of their struggles.
As poet and artist Jackie Hill Perry puts it, “What you have been through probably sets you up to be more useful than you’re even assuming.”