This week's book: "The River of Doubt" by Candice Millard.
"For unflagging interest and enjoyment, a household of children, if things go reasonably well, certainly makes all other forms of success of less importance."
Theodore Roosevelt
The River of Doubt eventually stopped being an adventure and became a fight to stay alive.
The deeper Roosevelt's expedition pushed into the Amazon, the worse it got. Rapids were everywhere and getting worse. Canoes were being smashed to pieces. Supplies disappearing into the river. Food running dangerously short. The men were exhausted, soaked, starving, and surrounded by a jungle that offered no mercy.
Then men began to die. One drowned in the rapids. Another was murdered by a member of the party, who then vanished into the wilderness. This wasn't a grand romantic adventure anymore. It was survival.
Roosevelt gashed his leg badly on a rock in the river and the wound became infected. Weak and feverish, he was soon delirious, had a temperature of 104, lost fifty pounds, and was barely able to go on. The man who had survived war, being shot by an assassin, and a lifetime of difficult physical challenges was dying, literally, in the middle of nowhere.
Convinced he was slowing everyone down and putting them all at great risk, Roosevelt made a decision. He told the others to go on without him and leave him behind to die in their makeshift camp in the middle of the jungle.
Here's the part I can't stop thinking about.
Roosevelt knew his son Kermit, who was also on the expedition, would never accept that outcome. He knew Kermit would refuse to leave his father’s side, would try to carry his father's body out of the jungle, and would almost certainly die in the attempt. So, Roosevelt realized the only way to save his son's life was to save his own.
He chose to live. Not for himself. But for Kermit.
In his own words later: "There was only one thing for me to do, and that was to come out myself."
And so, they kept moving. Step by step. Rapid by rapid. Day by day. Until, at last, their unknown river flowed into the Amazon, and they came out of that jungle alive.
I've spent the last couple of days thinking about why people keep going when quitting would be completely understandable. I don't think there's one clean answer. Purpose. Pride. Duty. The sheer will to survive.
But often, I think it comes down to something much simpler. It's the people beside us. Teddy Roosevelt didn't survive that river on willpower alone. He survived because he couldn't bear to be the reason his son didn't make it. Love got him out of that jungle when strength no longer could.
That's worth remembering the next time you're in your own dark stretch, and we all get them. You may think you're holding on by discipline. But a closer look will show you it's usually people. Your tribe. The ones you can't bear to let down. The same ones who would refuse to let you go under.
Something to consider today
Think of a hard stretch you’ve come through, a real one. Now ask yourself who was in it with you. Then do one small thing today to tell that person they mattered. A call, a text, a note. I’ve always thought that mailing a real thank you note in the real mail is the most meaningful. We rarely tell the people who pulled us through that we know they did. If that sounds difficult just think of how you would feel if you received that card in today’s mail.
Who's the person you'd keep going for? The one you'd never leave behind? I'd love to hear, if you feel like sharing.
I'll go first: I'm lucky. I've got a bunch. A wife, three grown sons, friendships that go back decades. On my hardest days, they're my reason. But my newest reason is the people receiving this email. This isn’t always an easy thing to write, but I’m hoping it reaches a few people who needed to hear today’s message at just the right time.
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Talk tomorrow,
Mike
Practical wisdom for the life you're building