As we walked up the trial, we could see the end towering above us about a mile above the rocky terrain. But the problem is, we could see it the entire time. The straight uphill, rocky trail, combined with the hot beating sun, seemed to make every step feel twice as heavy and labored as it should have been. And as we weaved back and forth, through the winding trail, the end seemed to remain stationary, marked where we could see it, yet always out of reach. 

And the more we focused on the ending of the trail. The further away it seems to be. 

It was like, we were working hard to get somewhere, yet never getting there. We were clawing and climbing, with no sense of accomplishment. 

My youngest looked to the top, and gave up. He could take no more. 

And in a moment of shear exhaustion and frustration, he became too weak to carry on. 

Then came the question I dreaded, and yet expected. . . 

Dad, will you carry me on your back. . . .