Wild Abandon

Title Nine sends their catalogue to me.  Even though their products no longer fit my body nor my demographic, I flip through the pages of young women climbing rocky cliffs, paddling, and biking in colorful, stretchy waterproof clothing– uniquely designed for each sport.  The latest issue caught my eye. A woman (in a dress) balances on the roof of an old International Scout, the same model my husband drove when we first met.  I study her solid stance, legs bent, arms outstretched, balanced at her very core.  She looks brave and strong. 

I regret I was never this woman, who had the physical strength and confidence to stand atop a moving vehicle or surf a large wave.  Part of me fancies myself as an outdoor adventurer–but enjoys activities on solid ground at a slower pace.  Hiking, bird watching, foraging, forest bathing, cross country skiing—old peoples’ sports.

In my defense, I got a late start.  Title IX was in its infancy when I graduated high school, so there were few organized sports for girls.  I was raised to be risk averse–to see danger instead of opportunity in competitive challenges.  Remember ABC’s Wide World of Sports on Saturday afternoons?  Jim McKay’s voice overlain by footage of an unfortunate skier tumbling end-over-end, showing “the agony of defeat.”

There isn’t a sport that I could claim mastery over.  I am an average tennis player, a cautious downhill skier, can swim enough to keep my head above water. I feel self-conscious instead of confidence, when playing a sport. I am the one who complete strangers offer tips to improve my golf swing.    

I found joy in distance running, competing in races of 5K, 10K and 10 miles. I loved running with my daughters when they ran cross country and track. Or often would ride my bike alongside them on long training runs. Watching distance races brings me to tears over the remembered emotion of pushing hard, the burn in legs and chest, the will to cross the finish line. My joints and tendons no longer like it when I run, but I loved the freedom it brings.  The other day, my four-year old grandson asked me if I could still run.  I responded, “Not as fast as you.”

As I age, I am more cautious about pushing physical boundaries, with osteoporosis and cancer it would be bad if I broke a bone.  I don’t like to think that my active days are over, I want to stay strong, but it now requires more effort to maintain.

Phil and I went to the Banff Mountain Film Festival at the Riverview Theatre, which has the most amazing popcorn (served with real butter) and has kept its vintage fixtures, lights, and vibe. The event, hosted by Midwest Mountaineering brings a collection of films that are awarded for their excellence in telling stories of extreme sports in unique environments. The films allow us to be that person speeding down the mountain on a bike seat or gliding through a canyon under a nylon canopy.

The filmmakers interrogate the “why.”

Their answers surprised me. A sightless man in Soundscapes scaled a massive face in the Sierra Nevada using echolocation, said FOMO is what drove him.  He said even if I can’t see, “I am not giving up on everything that is exciting and adventurous.”  With the help of a guide and the sound of his walking sticks connecting with the earth, he knew where to take his next step. 

A film called Earthside featured a group of four young women who traversed Baffin Island to ski couloirs, vertical gorges in an otherwise solid rock face. They climbed up and skied down for the pure joy of being together, relying on their bodies to trust and support one another.

Why do I show up to watch?  Page through “aspirational lifestyle” gear?

I like to watch this world of adrenaline-fueled adventure allowing me to participate vicariously.  The photography and the music keep my toes curled and my heart pounding. You and I may find other means to find “aliveness” — being in nature, watching birds, practicing meditation to guide our inward journey.  Even though there are riskier methods, aliveness and creativity can be found in these moments. 

I don’t want to improve my tennis or golf game. I do what I can to keep my body strong and flexible.  Yoga and Qigong, walking, biking is all good. I have tremendous admiration for athletes who push their physical and mental limits to feel alive. 

I am okay that these limits change throughout our life, and we can move the boundaries to suit our physicality.  I have found more time for an inner life that comes with or without extreme adventure.