Relief: The Uncelebrated Emotion That Fuels Growth

It was the second day of the six-day Salkantay trail to Machu Picchu, and it was the most challenging. At an elevation of 4,800 meters (15,750 feet), though I was fit enough, I struggled to breathe, stopping every few minutes to take five deep breaths.

Meanwhile, my wife and friends seemed to handle the altitude better, which pushed me to keep going. Ego isn’t always the villain we make it out to be—it can drive us forward when we’re tempted to quit.

The Salkantay Trail itself is a marvel. It’s an alternative route to the more famous Inca Trail, offering breathtaking views of Humantay Mountain, the majestic peaks of the Andes, and the extraordinary natural beauty of Machu Picchu’s surrounding landscapes. The gruelling trek is known for its diverse geography and the rich culture of the Andean people.

That second day tested my limits, but eventually, I made it to the lodge at the top. What I remember most vividly from that moment is not joy or triumph but relief. I made it. I sat there, breathing in the crisp mountain air, thankful I had pushed through. Relief, in that moment, was my reward.

Relief on the Court

Fast-forward a month, I found myself in a different kind of challenge—a Padel(a Mix of Tennis and Squash) tournament. My partner was young enough to be my son and one of the best players. Expectations were high, and we were among the favourites to win.

Our quarterfinal match was against two twenty-somethings. It was a hot and humid Sunday morning, and the game quickly became a test of endurance. We lost the first set but clawed our way back to level the match. By the third set, I was utterly spent. The heat, humidity, and sheer pace of the game had drained me.

We lost. As I sat on a nearby bench, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, a familiar feeling washed over me—not anger, frustration, or disappointment, but relief.

Friends approached, expecting to find me livid, but instead, they found me smiling. I wasn’t upset because I knew I had given everything I had. More importantly, I knew I couldn’t have competed in the semi-final even if we’d won.

Relief, once again, became my companion.

Relief is an understated emotion. It’s neither flashy nor dramatic, often overshadowed by joy, anger, or frustration. Yet, it’s one of the most profound feelings we experience—a quiet exhale after the storm.

The Value of Relief

Relief is a feeling of reassurance and relaxation after a release from anxiety or distress. It’s the calm after the storm, the quiet acknowledgement we’ve endured and emerged on the other side.

But why do we put ourselves in situations that invite stress and anxiety? Why push through the discomfort of a gruelling hike or the intensity of a competition? Why not stay in the comfort of our routines, journaling, reading, or enjoying a cigar in peace?

For me, the answer lies in growth.

Growth demands discomfort. It requires stepping out of our comfort zones and facing challenges that test our limits.

Relief signals that we’ve pushed ourselves, stretched our boundaries and survived.

Each time I push through a challenge, I emerge stronger.

The Salkantay trail didn’t just offer me breathtaking views; it taught me resilience. The Padel tournament didn’t just test my endurance; it improved my game.

Relief is also a celebration—quieter but more profound than clinking glasses. It’s the body and mind acknowledging effort and perseverance.

For me, true celebration often involves sitting quietly with a cigar or a glass of wine, savouring the moment I feel inner growth.

A physiotherapist once told me, “Stretch, release, go further.”

Growth works the same way. Each challenge stretches us, sometimes to the point of pain, but the following release allows us to go further the next time.

Relief reminds us that we’ve endured, grown, and are better for it. It’s a quiet triumph, a marker of progress, and a celebration of resilience.

So the next time you feel relief, don’t dismiss it.

Embrace it as a sign of your growth—a reminder that you’ve stretched, pushed, and made it to the other side.