The Road Goes Ever On and On

I watched Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit with my fiancée recently – what a great movie. Regardless of what they did with extra plotlines and manufactured love interests, it’s still a stirring story. I guess, as Father Mulcahy mentioned in an episode of M*A*S*H*: “You can’t miss when you’ve got great material."

A week or so after watching the trilogy, I was facing down a 3-hour mountain bike race that I didn’t feel like I had adequately trained for – at all. I was ready to just not go to the race. Then I remembered The Hobbit.

There was a scene in particular that jumped out to me from the first movie, after the goblin caves ordeal and Thorin is about to be killed by the one goblin. All of a sudden Bilbo rushes forward and tackles the creature and kills it. Then he does something incredible:

He stands up and puts himself between Azog and Thorin.

Now, just comparing the fighting abilities of Bilbo and Azog, Bilbo didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t prepared for the fight that might have ensued. But he didn’t care; he knew, in that moment, that he had to try.

And, really, that’s what makes an adventure, an adventure. It’s setting out with a goal clearly in mind, and the details often completely blank. When Bilbo set out from Bag End, he had no idea what lay in store for him. He didn’t know about trolls, goblins, Gollum, Azog, a necromancer, wood elves, giant spiders, a battle of five armies…

But he knew he was going to help the dwarves reclaim their homeland. He took each situation and reacted to it as best he could, as best he knew he should. There was some skill, a lot of luck – but I think most importantly a tremendous amount of commitment.

I’ve set out on the road to be an author, actually a long time ago. And I’ve suffered a lot of setbacks, encountered a lot of obstacles and distractions and gone down roads that I still only believe will still get me where I want to go, eventually. I’ve had lots of chances of turning back – I’ve tried a few times, even. But something always gets me back on the road, staff in hand, eye on the horizon (even if it’s sometimes obscured by trees or fog), and usually without a pocket handkerchief.

I know I’ve been silent for over a week. But I’m going to keep writing. Here’s one more day in the journal of my holiday, my “There”, whether or not there will be a “Back Again.” I’ve made it through the caves of despair and frustration. But the sun is setting behind the mountains; I’ve reached the other side.

Off we go.