It wasn’t always called Death Valley. That was the name white prospectors gave the place after getting lost there in the winter of 1849. They were eventually found by others, but not before a number of their party had died.

For the indigenous Timbisha Shoshone, the place was called Tümpisa. This is a reference to the abundance of red ochre, a pigment stone believed by many early peoples to be the very blood of the earth.

Perspective and intention figure into these names and stories. For the Timbisha, the land was sacred and they lived on it for over a thousand years. For the exploitative prospectors hungry for riches, they were dead in a winter.

We respond to the sacred with humility. And that’s the only way to encounter wild places. The mountains, deserts, and oceans of the world will not tolerate even a hint of hubris.

The invitation to participate in Grind went out in October, more than three months ago. In that time we have tried to share some information that will help us prepare for three days and 30 miles on the trail. Preparation is a manifestation of humility.

If we received the information and built on it with our own questions, research, engagement, and conditioning, we are at a tremendous advantage. We have opened ourselves to the experience and that brings the humility that will, with God’s permission, translate into a beautiful and rewarding experience.

Some of us haven’t done that. We had other priorities. Things come up. Life is like that, always asking that we adjust and recalibrate. And the extent to which this adventure slipped lower down on our list of priorities is the extent to which self-doubt, anxiety, and even physical illness will start to erode our confidence in a desperate bid for self-preservation.

Over the last two weeks we’ve had men drop out because of bad backs and scheduling conflicts. We’ve had women getting sick. I’ve received calls from some of you concerned that the trip may be too rigorous. Everybody’s worried about the water.

It’s important when stuff like this comes up. These are the moments where we can start to think more about how we approach things.

Have we allowed ourselves to build a sense of investment in our trail-mates? Have we reached out to the other participants to build a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose? Did we have a clear intention around why this trip matters and did we share it with the group?

It was the first question asked of each of you. When we start to waiver, it is our tribe that can remind us, but without a clear intention there is little that can be done to recover the initial burst of enthusiasm. It all fades away like so many other ultimately inconsequential thoughts and emotions.

From a purely practical standpoint, I know that each of you has the capacity to make it through this. It’s more a choice than anything else. The physiology is a no-brainer. It’s clear that, barring serious illness or injury, we can all complete the hike even without food or water.

But which of us will actually choose to finish what we’ve started?

We’ll find out in six days.