There will be rough terrain, blisters, and crashes, but there will also be a meadow of flowers. Will we see it? We must pay attention to and appreciate the flowers, and we must learn from the rough trail.
Like many of you, I am fascinated with stories and accounts of survival and endurance. Some of my favorite examples include Sir Ernest Shackleton, Juliane Koepcke, and Louis Zamperini. With each of these accounts, I find myself asking, “How did they do it? Where did they find the strength, endurance, resilience, and perseverance?”
As a young high schooler, I remember studying 2 Nephi 31 in seminary. One verse in particular resonated with me, and it is one of my favorite scriptures to this day:
Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.1
As I sat in that seminary class, my mind went straight to the image of breaking the tape at the finish line, exhausted but in triumph. At that moment, I interpreted Nephi’s verse in this way: If we work really hard (press forward and grind it out), endure, and get to the finish line, then we get a big prize (eternal life). My focus was the finish line, 100 percent.
For the remainder of my remarks, I want to talk to you about how my experiences have led me to think about endurance in a different and more meaningful way.
Endurance Requires Work
In 2010, I picked up a magazine called Outside and started flipping through the pages until an article caught my eye. The title was “The World’s Toughest Bike Race Is Not in France.”2
I’m a cyclist, and I understood very well that the author was referring to the most celebrated cycling event in the world—the Tour de France. As I started reading, however, I felt myself getting sucked into the intrigue of what really is the world’s toughest bike race, the Tour Divide. The Tour Divide is a small, self-supported mountain bike race that follows the Continental Divide from Banff, Canada, to the Mexico border. Not only is it 2,700 miles of lost and forgotten backcountry dirt roads with almost two hundred thousand feet of climbing, but it is completely self-supported. Every rider must carry their own gear and be prepared for any condition.
I loved the idea of being completely on my own and enduring the distance, the elements, the breakdowns, and any of the challenges that would arise. I read every word of that article and instantly started wondering if I could pull this off one day.
In my simple interpretation of 2 Nephi 31:20 as a young high schooler, I was right—really right—about one thing. Lesson number one on endurance: endurance requires work—hard work. There is no substitution. Endurance is not the process of passively waiting something out.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught it this way:
When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer—no matter how eloquent the oration.3
I was raised by parents who valued work. From their example, I learned that work could be a fantastic tool that can make up for a lot of disadvantages and deficiencies. I learned that a great way to get faster, stronger, smarter, and more skilled was through simply rolling up my sleeves and getting to work. In the body, effort and work are the stimuli that trigger a series of events that lead to positive adaptations in strength, endurance, and power. That same effort can result in enhanced cognition, mood, and memory.
Lesson number one of endurance: endurance requires work—hard work. There is no substitution. Endurance is not the process of passively waiting something out.
In my quest to conquer the Tour Divide and with my fairly simple understanding of endurance, work was my focus. It was the principle on which I hung my bike helmet. I started riding my bike everywhere, including to work from our home in American Fork and back. When that got too easy, I woke up earlier and rode over the mountains to and from work. I raced every race I could find time for, including twelve- and twenty-four-hour events. I rode my bike in the winter on the snow and often at night in the mountains. I noticed my fitness and my ability to tolerate discomfort drastically improve. The work was paying off.
After a few years of this hard work, I was ready to test myself. In 2013 I decided to race my first ultra-endurance event: the Colorado Trail Race. The Colorado Trail extends from Durango to Denver. It is 570 miles of rough, remote, and relentless trail, traversing miles and miles of high mountain meadows and ridges. I studied the route to find where I could restock food and water, and I created goals for each day, with the ultimate goal of crossing the finish line in five days.
I was particularly worried about getting to the small mountain town of Silverton on day one, where I could resupply before the store closed at 7 p.m. There was no other resupply for at least two days following Silverton—it was an essential stop. If I got to the store after it closed, then I would be forced to spend the night, which would place me on exposed trails above tree line when the thunderstorms rolled in the following afternoon. So, in my mind, the race hinged on my ability to get to the store in Silverton and resupply on day one so I would not be killed by lightning the next day; it seemed rational at the time. The race began at 4 a.m. I was sure there would be no issue getting to Silverton before 7 p.m. As you might imagine, I was so wrong.
The trail was much more difficult than I anticipated. It climbed thousands of feet in the first thirty miles. The altitude took a toll on me, along with my poor management of food and water. My loaded bike also weighed more than I was used to. I hiked my bike for hours at a time in unrideable conditions. This created huge blisters to go along with my tired legs, aching back, and pounding head. To make matters worse, I was developing a pretty poor attitude. I was in bad shape, both physically and mentally, and perhaps most importantly, I started to doubt that I could get to Silverton before 7 p.m. In fact, 7 p.m. came and went; 9 p.m. came and went. Darkness fell and 11 p.m. came and went. Somewhere around this time, riding with my underpowered headlamp, I caught my front wheel between two rocks in a small stream crossing and crashed, hitting my head on some rocks in the process. My glasses were broken, my face was bleeding, and I found myself sitting on the wet ground, defeated. Battered and beaten, I rolled out my sleeping bag and bivy sack on the cold, uneven ground and crawled in. I was done. I decided to quit. With tears in my eyes, I eventually drifted off to sleep.
A few hours later I sat up in my sleeping bag and watched the rising sun start to illuminate the eastern horizon, creating an incredible backlit view of the peaks. The light also opened up the vista where I’d been sleeping. Since I had arrived at this location after dark, I was seeing for the first time that I was on the edge of a vast mountain meadow that was filled with flowers and covered with morning dew. I sat in silence and took it in. I was still determined to quit, but I was in awe of the beauty that surrounded me, and I was dumbfounded that I had not noticed anything like this the previous day. I knew this couldn’t be the first beautiful sight that I had come across in almost twenty hours of riding. Had I missed it all?
Regardless, I was determined to find my way home. But in order to quit, I had to ride the ten miles to Silverton. Those ten miles just happened to be amazing riding. I started to recognize the beautiful sights; the trail was fun and fast, and contrary to my previously poor attitude, I was now smiling and ignoring how uncomfortable I was. I even laughed out loud as I rode the spectacular trails.
In Silverton, I sat on the wooden boardwalk that lined the dirt main street eating a two-pound burrito. I couldn’t stop thinking about the mountain meadow filled with flowers. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and how it made me feel, and I kept wondering how I must have missed similar sights and feelings the day before. I decided then, perhaps in a moment of weakness, that I would continue. I was not ready to quit. I was still worried about the lightning, and my legs were tired and heavy, but I vowed to pay attention and appreciate the full experience. I would not miss any more meadows of flowers. The next five-plus days ended up being some of the most beautiful riding of my life—a fantastic experience. And I did not get struck by lightning.
Endurance Is Learning
I realize that I’m just talking about riding a bike, but that experience changed me, and it changed my views of that favorite verse in 2 Nephi. No longer did I think there was just one ingredient to endurance: work. I no longer held onto the idea that endurance was just grinding it out and surviving to the finish line. Endurance wasn’t a necessary evil that needed to be survived in order to get a prize. Instead of focusing on going through the finish tape with hands up, my focus became the ride—the process. Endurance is that process: the process of learning and growing during a sustained effort and of seeing good in hard circumstances. It is a process that leads to refinement and growth.
Endurance was something I wanted and needed in my life. I had always appreciated the benefits of work and effort, but now I also realized that endurance was a tremendous opportunity to see good and learn from challenges, which opened the door to so much growth. The process, not the product—including all of the positive and negative experiences—helped to shape me, and ultimately that process led me to the finish line with more joy.
While the rough trail demands our attention, we have to give some consideration to the flowers. It must be intentional, or it will not happen. Every person in this room is working through challenges: emotional, physical, and spiritual challenges. There will be rough terrain, blisters, and crashes, but there will also be a meadow of flowers. Will we see it? We must pay attention to and appreciate the flowers, and we must learn from the rough trail. The process, not the product, will allow us to find joy on our way to the finish.
Endurance Can Connect You to God
Trying to infuse these new insights into my life and riding, I found myself in Banff, Alberta, Canada, toeing the start line for the 2018 Tour Divide. After years of preparation and a failed attempt in 2017, the time was finally here!
Once again, the ride and the experience were much, much harder than I anticipated. After just a few days, my body was broken: I was constantly uncomfortable, knee and back issues were gradually getting more intense, and sores from contact points on the bike made sitting on the bike saddle almost impossible. I was also suffering mentally. My confidence was waning, and I regularly beat myself up for simple, inconsequential mistakes. It was under these conditions that I learned my next valuable lessons on endurance.
With almost no pride left in me, my prayer sessions were sincere; they were brutally honest, and they were often raw with emotion. In an attempt to rid myself of my focus on the negative circumstances, I tried to think of everything for which I was grateful.
We are given a gift with real power: an open line of communication with our Father. If we can humble ourselves enough—holding nothing back, bearing our soul to the person who already knows us—I promise that we can feel His presence and love in a real way. If we can be grateful and shift our thoughts away from ourselves, we will be blessed with additional strength that will bear us up, benefiting us and others. These gifts of prayer and gratitude made it possible for me to continue each day. These are gifts that we must choose to accept and use.
I am willing to bet that every person in this room has been told at some point in your lives that “you can do hard things.” This is absolutely true! I have no doubt that every person here can do extremely hard things. Our bodies, minds, and spirits were designed to do hard things. To this idea, I would like to add that we need hard things, or maybe even that we should want hard things. Intense effort and difficult circumstances lead to extraordinary learning and growth.
Every accomplishment, every relationship, every experience requires endurance. Each of us is enduring so many events in our lives right now. All of these can be hard but positive, tremendous, fantastic opportunities! Will we put our heads down and focus on “the end,” or will we focus on the many experiences and learning opportunities that will happen along the way? Will we consider endurance as the process of grinding it out, or will we pay attention to the flowers, seeing endurance as an amazing process that leads to growth? Endurance is a gift!
We are given a gift with real power: an open line of communication with our Father. If we can humble ourselves enough—holding nothing back, bearing our soul to the person who already knows us—I promise that we can feel His presence and love in a real way.
It turns out that Nephi had it figured out. He certainly taught us to press forward and endure, but he also provided some incredible insight into the process: be steadfast in Christ (rely on Him and repent), have a perfect brightness of hope (see the good), love God and our neighbor (see beyond ourselves and be kind), and feast on the word of Christ (actively seek good things). That verse tells us what endurance is and how to endure well.
As we consider Nephi’s teachings, consider the idea that the prize of eternal life in the celestial kingdom is a simple continuation of the process we learn on earth: endurance. Endurance was never intended to be a painful, soul-crushing, grind-it-out process in which there is a big reward at the end that makes it all worth it. Please do not ever think that joy comes only at the end. Endurance was intended to help us understand and realize the joy of learning and growing now, on earth. Our Father in Heaven wants us to find joy in the process. He gave us His Son so that we can do this. He wants us to be happy now.
Press forward! Endure well! Have joy! This is my prayer for each of us, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
J. Ty Hopkins, professor and chair of the BYU Department of Exercise Sciences in the College of Life Sciences, delivered this devotional address on November 12, 2024.
2. Jon Billman, “The World’s Toughest Bike Race Is Not in France,” Outside, 25 July 2008, outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/biking/worlds-toughest-bike-race-not-france/.
3. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “Two Principles for Any Economy,” Ensign, November 2009.