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In the interests of transparency. . . for those of you who might have been impressed by the photos I posted on Instagram earlier this week of Pater and I paddling (he took the one above, of me) . . . you should know that I’m still not a Badass Adventurer (looking back at that post from 2016 and the one it links back to — and all the wonderful comments! — reminds me why I write this blog). . .
I’m quite pleased that, given my nature and the childhood experiences that left me fearfulof many physical endeavours, I am, at 66, quite fit and fairly active. I’m a fair-weather cyclist, enjoy swimming through the summer, run a bit, workout in the condo gym to a program a trainer develops for me, and now I’m kayaking again.
Just so you know, though. . . I fretted about carrying our paddles on the bikes — they split in two, but are still unwieldy zipped and elastic-banded into our backpacks and what if they spilled onto the road and/or caused us to fall over or swerve into a car or. . . .
And I worried — was really careful! — about carrying the kayak to the water down a steep and very algae-slippery concrete ramp (I lifted the front of the kayak; he took up the stern). . .
And I was unhappy about the rudder pedals — the tension is definitely off, so that the kayak tended to head to portside (veer left). I’d end up with my right leg fully extended and my left knee still folded, but I wasn’t keen to do the necessary fiddling “under the hood” out in the water. Reminded me too much of the way I’d have to disappear below the dash to switch fuel tanks on my old VW Bug (anyone else have one and remember that feature?). I might have been driving blind for a few seconds in my VW, but at least we weren’t likely to tip over into deep, cold water. . . .
Since I’m being honest, I’ll also tell you that at several points there was focused crankiness about the fact that my worries were being dismissed as “Nervous Nellie” concerns or as those of an Anxious Beginner. We worked this through with some exasperation expressed on both sides — I’ve since found that there’s a bag specifically designed to carry the paddles; not only will it better protect them in transit, but it’s less likely to spill its contents or unbalance a cyclist. (In his favour, I should admit that he’s cycled those two kilometres with his paddle’s handles protruding through the unzipped gap at the top of his backpack ever so many times now, incident free. To which, of course my Designated Inner Worrier retorts something like , “It only takes once, and he’s using up his good luck.”).
We also had a closer look at the rudder pedals once the boat was on dry land, and the tension is clearly uneven, and tends to revert to being uneven quite quickly after an adjustment. But I think I can adjust it with less fuss next outing, and perhaps the tension issue will work itself out once the kayak and I are used to each other. Of course, I can always set and maintain and correct direction with the paddles. . . but a good working rudder makes me feel safer and more confident. Which, since I’m not naturally a Badass Adventurer, is a good thing. . .
Besides my worries and hesitations and fears around bikes and kayaks and rudders and all, I had a number of other items to share with you and had thought of posting a Five Things Friday. Instead, I think I might break my resolution of only posting twice weekly (during the time-sucking online course I’m doing) and shower you with a few extras in the next little while. . .
Meanwhile, though, perhaps you’d care to share the behind-the-scenes complications of some recent effort of your own, some accomplishment that looked easy but posed a few hurdles. Not necessarily physical adventures — sometimes, joining a new group or attending a concert on one’s own can look easy but requires considerable talking-to one’s mirror image. We could chat about whether you tend to the Nervous Nellie or the Badass Adventurer side — or whether, like me, you begin to suspect they might occasionally co-exist, and even help balance each other. . . And mobility and scope of adventures in this middle-to-infinity stage of life, how’s that working out?
As for me, I’ve almost finished my morning cuppa as I wrote, chatting with you in my head between paragraphs, and now I must gulp down the last ounce or two and hurry to put my Invisalign aligners back in.* Happy Friday!
*Ten days into this process now, and no pretending it’s not uncomfortable at first, and the inconvenience of working the aligners out and in for each meal or any drink other than water (not hot!), flossing and brushing before replacing them after a meal. . . .But I’ll focus on the outcome of straighter teeth, much easier to keep clean and healthy, and my good fortune in being able to budget for the treatment.
That photo is my idea of hell. Good for you if it's your jam.
I am both Nervous Nellie and Badass Adventurer. I am terrified of water, dogs, bugs and animals in general (but dogs count twice). But I lived alone in Africa for two years and got around there by hitchhiking. I traveled across Asia, pre-Internet and mobile phone, with no way to reserve places ahead, just figuring out en route. I used to routinely walk home from tango dances, which tend to start around 11 p.m. and go until 4 a.m. or later, in NYC and Paris. I've traveled all over alone, even in the Middle East. I've lived in four countries. So kind of extremes. If I see a dog two blocks away I will make a detour rather than risk getting close, but I have no problem landing in a foreign country, not speaking the language or knowing a soul, and figuring things out.
I absolutely love this as first response to my post. This is the kind of complexity that really interests me and that suggests how useless and confining labels can be. And how deep-seated and obstinate fears can be. You sound very competent and intrepid, and I hope you're still finding the occasional tango dance to walk home from! đ
And did you read this: nytimes.com/interactive/2019/03/20/magazine/kayaking-trip-alaska.html?action=click&module=Top%20Stories&pgtype=Homepage
I realize that kayaking in Vancouver is the kind that I would do if I weren't terrified of water…Always have a hospital nearby. That's something I didn't used to think about but now that I have been to the ER (with other people, but still) numerous times, I've lost my taste for remote places.
I skimmed the article and what a tale! Wow! My husband's spent considerable time in remote places and I've heard a few stories. . .
Oh goodness, yes, I am so with both of you. I seem to have a block at present about making mistakes – hence a good deal of expletives this morning when it came to doing a task for somebody and technical matters getting in the way. It is as if any kind of problem like this ratchets up my anxieties. In reality, once I had decided to by-pass the problem and try it another way, all was well. This is craziness. I can do all sorts of tricky and sometimes hazardous things without any trouble at all…repeat after me, Annie…YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE OF THE WORLD. NOBODY HAS DIED, THE PRINTER IS JUST BEING ANNOYING. There. I think I need to go and stare at a white wall for a while.
Annie, you are not alone in your printer troubles – the following is in French (English subtitles). Frances, this will be good for your 'colloquial' French! youtu.be/ffKt59oGUkY
Aaargh, printers! Something I really miss, being retired, is the secretary who always knew how to fix them — or, when she didn't always had the repairperson's number on her phone. . . I'm sure I'll enjoy the video, thanks, Linda.
Oh, so much the combination of Nellie and Badass. I've hiked 3 segments of the Camino de Santiago, by myself, since 2015, but walking into a room full of strangers by myself? Ugh. Driven across the U.S. twice, again by myself, but my husband has to clear out spiders, because they have too many legs for me to deal with. I love the idea of kayaking, but I'm a barely adequate swimmer, so I know Nellie would come to the forefront there….
You're a good example of a combo, Carol! And now I'm curious about which segments of the Camino you've hiked.
I've walked the Frances from Leon to Santiago, the Ingles in its entirety from Ferrol to Santiago, and the Portuguese from Baiona to Santiago. All very different walks, and all utterly wonderful. I'm planning to walk the entire Frances as my retirement gift to myself in a couple of years.
I've driven by myself more than halfway across country several times–once with just me and my four children when they were all under the age of 10–a trip that included a tornado warning and a 13" snowfall–all in the same day (the Midwest weather in April can be hazardous). Traveled extensively on my own across the US and overseas without any trepidation–going to concerts/theatres in various cities around the world. However, ask me to go to a party or large gathering of people, most of whom I don't know, and socialize? No, thanks. But last week, I had to go to a large wedding (a couple I did not know but who were friends of my husband). Would love to say that it wasn't as bad as I feared, but in reality, it was an introvert's nightmare.
PS – The NYTimes article TOF mentions above is truly gripping. It speaks to the emotional (and physical) baggage we all carry.
Another really great example — social/emotional risks can be more challenging than any others for some of us.
It's such a tense and well-written article, and it goes much deeper than an adventure story, doesn't it?
I grew up with no acknowledged physical prowess. My mother is ultra-Nervous Nelly and my father didn't believe in sports for girls. Married to a dare-devil, I have found a compromise. I can walk as long as cliffs are not involved, I can kayak and I can ride a bike. I'm not afraid of being alone or of meeting new people. I don't like to drive. I guess we find our level of risk-taking at this age.
I like to think there's some Badass-ery merely in pushing at the boundaries we sense around us, and with your travel you surely do that.
Our school PE teachers evidently did the same sadism module. What misery school PE was. I couldn't turn a straight somersault on the ground, so there was no way I was going to be able to bounce off a trampette and execute one along the top of that box thing with the leather top. I knew I would break my neck. So I just refused. Stood my ground and point blank refused. There was nothing the teacher could do except for give me a black mark. You had more courage than me on your pyramid! Hockey, swimming, basketball, volleyball – hated them all. The only thing I could do was cross-country running, when I always came in first, way ahead of the sports stars. The reaction? "Pity you can't do that in the rest of your sports". I had my revenge tho. In my final year of secondary school I was dux (Scottish tradition of recognising the highest academic achiever in the final year – literally 'leader'). At the prize-giving (big formal thing, local dignitaries present, many speeches), my house had also won the sports trophy that year, needless to say with no input from me. The friendly librarian had hidden me in the book cupboard for the past 2 years during PE class. Since I was going up to the stage anyway to collect my personal awards, I also had to collect the school sports trophy. I still enjoy the memory of the look on the faces of the PE staff.
Now I'm belatedly discovering a body that can move and I'm fitter than I've ever been. But only in the form of running (albeit with wonky knees), long distance walking, Pilates and garden-quelling. I still hate any watersports, gave up trying to cross-country ski after breaking my coccyx falling backwards while standing still, and am incapable of getting off a ski lift without being carried back down to the foot of the mountain and having to get the whole thing stopped to allow me to get off. And yet my children have told me that I'm the bravest, most resilient person emotionally that they know. I'm about to start my own business, and inside I'm a whole mix of emotions, but any fear I feel is nothing compared to being faced with turning a somersault 5 feet off the ground.
I like that librarian. And I too loathed sport at school but didn't have the courage not to turn up. Should have done. Funny how these things resonate through the years. And how odd that the teachers should so disparage your running. I wonder what they are all doing now?
Very similar personal histories, you and I and a few others in this line-up) in many ways. I must say that as pleased as I am — sometimes even a bit proud, sometimes even a bit smug — that I have turned out to be quite fit and strong and occasionally brave physically, that those early messages lodged very deeply and I can still hear them occasionally. I'd be quite fierce if I knew anyone was saying the like to any of my Littles these days. (Did you really get the ski lift stopped? Brava!! That's a story worth one or two fingers of your best single malt!!)
On the other side of the coin, I've always been a nervous Nelly, but loved gym in school and had lovely, kind teachers who encouraged instead of disparaging us. But… wow… did I hate the swimming module in high school phys ed. Mostly because I hid the fact that I am a very weak swimmer and could NOT go in water over my head without panicking. I finally overcame that fear of deep water with support from my husband when we stayed in an almost empty resort in Australia with our own "private" pool. Actually… I didn't overcome anything, more learned to do it despite the fear. Big difference. Ha.
I think you should be so proud of all the many activities you do, Frances. You're an inspiration to all of us… even more so when you tell us how you do it despite being nervous! You go woman! (I've decided to stop calling people girl. Ha.)
Lucky you to have had lovely kind gym teachers. But too bad they saved the swimming module until high school — hard to handle fear of water amongst a classful of teen-aged peers! So glad you had a more supportive environment to manage your fear later on. You go woman! Ha! đ
I know my fears are in my head. I now have two chronic diseases, and the medications for both are hard to work out. The specialist for one just moved on, so my neurologist and I are on our own with some help from NIH although the docs there have never seen me. I have to stop playing out weird scenarios in my head and exercise as best I can. Like many others I keep hearing my sadistic gym teachers telling me I'm not doing enough (and my mother telling me to be careful….). We can just do the best we can.
You're facing some tough challenges, LHL. And fear might be in our head/mind, but it manifests nastily in the body as well. . . And all those voices from the past. As you say, just do the best we can. And as Sue (above) says, You go, woman!
I was recently looking at photo of me with a group of friends when I was 10. I had forgotten how tiny I was compared to the other girls, until I hit a growth spurt a few years later. There are things I am still afraid of, and don't consider myself brave, and yet I refuse to not live the life I want because of fear, or someone else's standards.
I love that photo of you paddling. I want to learn to kayak, even though I am afraid. I'm not there yet as I am not yet where I want to be fitness-wise. My own fault really, I've been working on other things. I used to be stronger. But I struggled when I was young. And now I've had to relearn a lot of things. That whole process has both set me back and moved me forward. There is much I want to do yet. Maybe at 66 I'll be doing more than I can imagine. Anyway, keep inspiring me.
Those relative heights and weights from grade school can make a longlasting impact — I was almost invariably the smallest in my class, and that was rarely an asset.
I suspect that you will learn to kayak if you want to, despite your fears. Saying this because I've been watching you take on so many challenges over these past years. I wonder if our mothers would have looked forward to what they might do at 66. . .
I have a cautious streak but I'm quite happy to try new sports or activities if I have an encouraging companion/teacher. I've travelled alone quite happily, most recently to South Korea a few months ago to visit my daughter who is working there, however I realised how much I depend on my phone map app when I got lost on my own in an area where I couldn't access wifi. I had to resort to the good old fashioned method of asking for directions. Interestingly, my daughter was far more worried than I was about me being out alone while she was at work! Wilma D
An encouraging companion/teacher is everything!
I depend on my phone map app as well, although I used to do just fine with a good paper map. . . I've become increasingly less conscious of carrying one as backup, and one of these days. . . And in a place like South Korea where I'm guessing you don't speak the language.
You raise an interesting point about your daughter's concern. I think this is worth us thinking about together. . . .
I was often told as a child that I was 'uncoordinated,' 'a klutz' or 'unathletic' so until my mid-adult years I didn't have much confidence in my physical abilities (despite being an accomplished equestrian at an early age). I think that started to change when I started running in my 20's, and has built over time. I'm still not a fan of more high-risk physical endeavors (rock climbing? NO thank you) but I'm more trusting of my body's ability to handle average activities.
Along with that, I was much more of a complainer when younger. In some ways, it was an 'equal and opposite' reaction to being told I shouldn't express discomfort or apprehension (this from my father) and should suck it up and be a "good sport." Now, I am genuinely more of a "good sport" because I feel freer to set boundaries and say "I need a minute to rest."