MENTAL TOUGHNESS IS PERSISTENCE

At the 1968 Olympics held in Mexico City, the last event to be held was the men’s distance marathon. Contestants from nations around the world entered the race and stood at the starting line waiting for the signal. Suddenly, at the blast of the starting pistol, seventy-five of the world’s best long distance runners burst forth with an explosion of energy and the race was on.

Two hours and twenty minutes later, eighteen runners had dropped out, either through injury or exhaustion, and a man from Ethiopia would take first place. The medal ceremony would occur immediately following to honor the first, second, and third place runners. But after the awards were given and the winners left the field, as the TV crews and reporters were packing up their gear, and most of the spectators had left the stadium, a sudden shout came from outside the stadium: “The race isn’t over. A man is still running!”

It was true, fifty-six runners had completed the course. The winners had received their medals and most people had gone, but one man was still running the race.

His name was John Stephen Akhwari, from Tanzania. Shortly after the starting pistol sounded and the runners took off, Akhwari had some problems. Right around the 19-kilometer point, there was jockeying for position between some runners and Akhwari was shoved and knocked down. He fell hard against the road. His thin skin tore as his bones slid against the pavement and he tumbled into the crowd. When he finally gained presence of mind, pain was shooting through his leg. He looked down and could see that his knee was bloodied and swollen—his knee cap was dislocated. To add to the agony, his shoulder was also severely bruised and bloodied and was also throbbing with pain.

But despite the pain in his knee and the throbbing in his shoulder, Akhwari knew the race wasn’t over—at least not for him. He summoned all the resolve in his spirit, pushed through the pain and forced his body upward. He leaned forward, put his strong leg out and began his stride, he put his damaged leg out, and collapsed. Again, forcing himself up, he put his strong leg out, and then the wounded leg, he stumbled, but managed to balance himself and run a few more steps—until he collapsed again. This became his rhythm. He would run, stumble, fall, get up again, run, stumble, collapse, get up again. And for the next ninety minutes he would repeat this battle with pain, discouragement, agony, and a deep- seated inner resolve, but he kept running. Finally, while the sun was setting and pain had turned to a numbed throbbing, he could see the stadium ahead.

Most of the crowd was gone. Most of the TV crews and reporters were gone. But it didn’t matter to Akhwari that he was in last place. He didn’t care about medals and accolades and applause. He was running for a different reason. He was running for honor, for dignity, for his country. As he crossed the finish line, a cheer came from the small crowd still there, but John Stephen Akhwari barely heard them. There was a cheer much more powerful in his own spirit, the cheer of having overcome insurmountable odds—of being more than a conqueror. When interviewed later and asked why he continued running, he said this: “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race; they sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”

In the report, “What Is This Thing Called Mental Toughness?,” researchers Jones, Hanton and Connaughton interviewed coaches, athletes and sports psychologists to develop an understanding on the subject. From their findings they offered the following: “Mental Toughness is having the natural or developed psychological edge that enables you to cope better than your opponents with the many competitive, lifestyle demands that sport places on a performer. Specifically, to be more consistent and better than your opponents in remaining determined, focused, confident, and in control under pressure.”5

There will always be a reason to quit. Mental toughness finds the reason not to. John Stephen Akhwari found his reason—his purpose. It was to finish the race, even when he knew he could never win. There was something more important than winning, and that is never giving up. There was more at stake than a trophy—his dignity was on trial. A sense of honor that could only come from his people, those whom he came to represent. Once you know your purpose and remain grounded in that, quitting is never an option.
The essence of mental toughness is persistence. It’s the power of resolve, the inner fortitude to continue, even when faced with extreme difficulty or overwhelming resistance. It means pressing on rather than making excuses and finding a reason to quit.

A term more familiar to an older generation, one more acquainted with persistence, is “grit.” We don’t hear that word anymore. The very sound of it suggests a toughness, a hardness that exists in a person’s character. It’s a type of endurance that Japanese poet Kenji Miyazawa describes as knowing how to “embrace the pain and burn it as fuel for the journey.”  

For more practical advice on “Mental Toughness,” check out my newest book, Upward: Taking Your Life to the Next Level.

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