PERU
follow your heart.

Peru was my location. It’s hard to imagine an event that could cater more to a Spanish-speaking Alaskan mountaineer than a foot-race carrying ice in the Andes.  With few locations left, I was embarrassed to be the only athlete with no wins and saw this as my best and potentially my last opportunity to prove I was deserving of my company. My performance in practice gave my hosts great hope that I would win the prize llama for their family. Hiking every day beneath beautiful 6000-meter peaks and then watching them cast in moonlight from the thermal hot spring, I was falling in love with this location. All until the locals pulled out the whips.

It turns out the sport we were training for was a hybrid Incan-Catholic reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus where we had to whip each other to repent for our sins. Initially the whipping seemed playful, and I pretended to whip my partner (by hitting the ground at his feet) to be respectful of the local tradition and try to remain non-judgmental. It had been clear from our travels that a huge problem among people living in developing countries was foreigners coming in and telling them how they should live their lives. I did not want to contribute to that imperious trend.

My simulated whipping seemed to be acceptable until we made our pilgrimage to the sacred glacier. On the morning of the race, having tested the course and feeling very confident, I was suddenly asked to be publicly whipped.  We’d been through plenty of physical suffering on this adventure; accepting more pain was not the issue. By laying down on the snow and accepting ceremonial whipping, I would be choosing to participate in, or endorse, this type of violence. The overarching teaching from every tribe that we visited was an ethic of compassion where they taught us to strive in every action to limit our harm to everything around us.  I desperately wanted to compete, but all I could think about was seeing the look on my mother’s eyes back home when she would watch me sacrifice my values for pride and personal gain.

I did not race with the others. Though I did race, and finished with the fastest time, I was disqualified from ranking in the competition for my unwillingness to participate in the whipping ceremony. I sunk into wrenching regret as my host family and many of my travel companions expressed their disappointment for my decision. But while the zero on the scoreboard shamed me, hindsight soon proved that I had scored a huge internal victory. Despite hallowed tradition, the potential for personal gain, and the pressure of most around me I had managed to listen to my heart and stand strong for what I believed. In the words of my late Boy Scout role model, “without honor, a man is nothing.”

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