"And when you feel the world wrapping 'round your neck / Don't succumb."

-Mumford and Sons, "Broad-Shouldered Beasts"

So often we forget the fundamental strength of human beings. Over the centuries, members of our species have overcome unfathomable obstacles. The Jewish nation after the Holocaust, Martin Luther King Jr.'s fight for civil rights, and even the conflicts happening now in the Middle East are a few examples of groups of human beings exceeding average strength. In day-to-day life, we are so quick to lose our sense of endurance. But sometimes, we are reminded. When a loved one dies, when a partner leaves, when we lose money, we recall our greatest strengths alongside our deepest weaknesses. And that base endurance is made possible by tools our universe gives us.

The lyrics above were ones that hit me immediately upon hearing them the first time. Mumford and Sons has always been one of my favorite "basic" hipster bands, so I was quick to hear their latest album. When I first heard "Broad-Shouldered Beasts," I was at a turning point in my life. My relationship was going through a rough patch; we weren't trusting each other and our communication was at its worst. For some reason however, each time I listened to that song, I heard his voice in those words. We made a promise between us that we would do everything necessary to keep what we had. Over the next few weeks, as we saw improvements in the way we were treating each other, those lyrics gained even more meaning. Though it was a very small hardship compared to those of others, we made it. That song was something that had helped me in a big way. But that wasn't the first time I'd found significance in a small thing.

During my high school career, I ran varsity cross country. Over the years, my love of running transformed into a life skill. The sport of running takes a sort of endurance that is virtually impossible to muster. I always joked that on race days, I had to force myself to go into a different head space. Running for miles on miles of flat ground was one thing; running a hill was another. My running coach had a saying he would yell to us as we ran hills on each race track. I will never forget hearing his words as I struggled up hills during races, "SETTLE IN!" He taught us never to "muscle through" a hill, but to settle into it, to find a rhythm. He knew, and eventually every runner learns, that there is no pushing up a hill. The only way out is through. I took this idea and ran with it (pun intended). I learned that his idea applied to life, even in the smallest obstacles. On days when I just want to escape the obligations I have, I tell myself, "Settle in." I remember that I'm working for something grander at the top of the hill.

Our own personal strength lies in what we are capable of day-to-day. Sure, we see great displays of human courage in instances like our modern Black Lives Matter protests. But our chance comes every day. Prove to yourself over and over that you are stronger than you tell yourself. When your feet are so tired they are numb, keep walking. When your eyes are burning with exhaustion, keep them open. When your heart is full of boulders of grief, hold your chest forward, because that is your humanity. Settle in. Don't succumb.