As a stage in an individual’s life transitions into the next, the values of determination and persistence must be learned in order to overcome a great conflict. A quote from Og Mandino about determination states, “Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough” (Brainyquote). While growing up on my grandparent’s farm, I learned values that I have used throughout my entire life. Whether it was how to show endurance in the face of hardship or remain calm in a drastic situation, I gained an unwavering perspective on tenacity.  These ideas helped to shape the person I am today. Although I learned how to value determination in a way that helped me through my childhood, no amount of learning can fully prepare a person for when the struggle becomes a reality. Though these conflicts can push us to our limit, they are the ones that define who we are.

Sitting on a large rock next to its mother, a young rabbit looked out over the forest. Large, towering trees dominated the hillside, and a clearing in the forest gave a slight glimpse of the surrounding grasslands. With the absence of predators, the peaceful sound of birds chirping gave way to a habitat full of life. High noon. The rabbit looked at his mother’s lifetime home: a place that seemed new and wondrous to him. As the two left the rock and approached the clearing, the young rabbit saw a dark figure that tapered off into a group of jagged grass. The young rabbit braced himself as the figure drew near. His mother attempted to lead her son away from the figure, but to no avail. The two rabbits were wedged in a corner of the rocks.

Just as the rabbit and his mother were faced with a moment of sheer desperation, I too came upon a similar event at a young age. This moment affected me in a way greater than any other in my lifetime because it was the first true struggle that I had ever witnessed. The value of this experience and the learning that followed became the most important factor for situations that I encountered later on.

Sitting in the side-seat of the combine, I looked out over the countryside. Golden, rolling hills dominated the landscape, and a subtle breeze gave slight movement to the trees at the edges of the fields. With the absence of clouds, the sky shone blue like the sea as the morning daylight gave way to mid-morning sun. Harvesting season. I gazed around at the scenery that my grandfather had gotten used to seeing over the course of his lifetime: a landscape so new to me. As we approached the end of the row, I saw a steep slope that tapered off into a jagged ravine. I held onto the side of the seat as the combine slid aimlessly with a sideways motion. My grandfather attempted to turn away, but to no avail. Veering full force into the ravine, the large machine wedged itself between the gap.

While my grandfather and I had been presented with an encounter of severe consequences, another event in my life paralleled evenly to the combine incident. Many years later, I began to run cross country. Physical strength and endurance are required to improve in the sport, along with mental perseverance being just as important. These attributes are what decide the fate of the race.

Piercing the air, a gunshot rang out over the still autumn landscape. Small, bright rays of light shone through the dark gray clouds. The runners took off, and the sharp smell of gunpowder still lingered in the breeze. The pace was set. I glanced around at the various teams. One. Two. Three. Four. I counted multiple packs of the same teams making their way along the path. I counted the number of breaths I took. I counted the number of strides that pushed me forward. The long stream of runners slithered like a snake along a bend in the path. Parents and other students shouted words of encouragement and helpful advice as the pack made its way towards a straight stretch of land. Then another curve followed the straight-away. One. Two. Three. Four. Like clockwork, more turns and bends became a memory of the past. As the race entered its second half, fatigue began to set in.

I was back at the farm ten years prior to the race, and the situation had taken a turn for the worst.
“Well,” my grandfather said, “We’ve got a problem.” Moments after exiting the combine to assess the damage, it became clear that the machine would not be easily retracted. With the head lying across the ditch and the wheels positioned at haphazard angles, the solution would not be as simple driving straight forward. Even with the full force of the combine, the direct route in front of the harvester would be inaccessible.

“What do you think we should do?” he asked.

“Should we call someone?” I replied.

“No, there’s no one that would be able to help us. Anyone that could is out in the fields.”

Surveying the situation for the second time, he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Alright” he said. “We’ll just have to try and get it out ourselves.”

My grandfather set to work, entering the cab to begin. The engine roared like a lion as it started up, and he used the controls to lift the head as far as it would go. Thud. The side of the head connected with an outcropping in the ditch. The space between the head and the ground was small and restrictive, but it would have to do. This allowed him to reposition the wheels to face the left side of the ravine. He began to propel the machine towards that direction, moving slowly in order to avoid falling further into the rut. After a few minutes of slowly moving sideways, the combine returned to its original position. My grandfather left the cab and observed the earth around the wheels, checking for a new path that the tires could follow. This cycle repeated various times, each time seeming more hopeless than the last. Finally, after an eternity passed, he said, “I’m going to try it one more time.” The engine sputtered to life again, and the combine listed to the left. The traction of the tires made contact with the ground. Crunch. Rocks and solid dirt slid beneath the tires, and the combine struggled forward over the edge of the ravine. It was over.

My grandfather was determined to get the combine out of the ravine, and his will was strong enough to overcome the conflict. It was time for me to use what I learned in the race.

“Drive your arms and keep moving forward!” coach yelled as I made my way past the second mile mark. One mile left. My legs began to weaken and my breath started to shorten. A dry taste slowly formed in my mouth. The crisp, cold, whistling fall wind contradicted the burning bright light of the sun’s rays as it broke through the clouds. My feet slowed down, as if I were running in quicksand. I began to fall behind. One. Two. Three. Other runners began to pass me. I felt as though I would stay at this slow and monotonous pace until the end, until I remembered the incident with the combine. Perseverance, determination, endurance. All of these qualities are required to overcome a daunting task. Like a light switch, my energy turned on. I picked up my feet and strode forward, moving my feet with increased speed. The end was in sight. I entered the final stretch, passing multiple runners as I made my way through the finish line. I had pushed myself to the limit, and I had ended with my best time. It was over.