This morning on the radio, there was all this talk about how it wouldn’t rain for four days or something almost unprecedented this summer. Indeed, the sun was coming in my windows. On the spur of the moment, I decided to bike to work.
Now, biking to work is not that big a deal. In other years, when I lived in Guelph, I’d frequently bike to the farm, goof off a bit, and bike home again – and all of this without feeling particularly hard-core. This past spring, even, I biked in a few times when I had stuff I wanted to do in the office on a weekend, and I scarcely noticed then either. It’s not that far – maybe 25 km, with a few hills tossed in for fun. It takes about an hour.
So, I put my stuff in my backpack and got on my bike. Fifteen minutes into the ride, my legs and I started a conversation:
Legs: What are you doing?
Johanna: Biking to work, what do you think I’m doing?
Legs: Well then not what, but why? What’s wrong with that shiny red car?
Johanna: Nothing. The bike was feeling neglected.
Legs: Oh, we’re worried about the bike’s feelings? What about us?
Johanna: Huh? What’s your problem?
Legs: Think about it. All summer you ignore us, along with the rest of your body except maybe your beer drinking arm. And now, now you decide just like that, you’d like us to be there for you.
Johanna: And?
Legs: And. We’ve done nothing but sit and get fatter for four months now. What the?
Johanna: Oh, suck it up. You’ve done this ride a hundred times.
Legs: Of which maybe twice was in the past four months!
Johanna: Shut up and push.
Legs: No.
(pause)
Legs: Fine. But we don’t like it.
(bigger pause, during which the butt – which has so far diplomatically remained silent – is thinking that the legs have a point)
Legs (seeing a massive hill coming up): No way.
Johanna: Look, work is on the other side of that hill.
Legs: Like, 8 km on the other side of that hill!
Johanna: Yes, and we can’t get there if we don’t go over it.
Legs: No.
Johanna: Yes. Push.
(now the legs resignedly push, but start griping to the feet. With the effect that when the legs decide to mutiny and walk the rest of the hill, the feet are none too swift about clipping out and Johanna is forced to do a bizarre wobbly bit).
(25 minutes later, at my desk)
Johanna: See, that wasn’t so bad.
(Legs continue sulking. They’ve already figured out that in a few hours, they’ll have to do it all over, in reverse.)
And that’s the bugger about September. You have to face up to the fact that you’ve done nothing but drink beer and eat burgers all summer. It’s a rude awakening.
Despite the complaining legs, the ride in took only 5 or so minutes longer than it used to, and there was no tailwind to blame that on. And if my legs get too whiny on the way home, I will threaten them with a 10K run in the near future!
--
Despite the promise of four days of sun, I've definitely already adjusted my mindset to fall. The other night, while waiting for Rebecca in the coffee shop, I grabbed a napkin and scribbled a list of things I urgently need to do (this turned into three napkins now decorating my desk). It's hard not to feel stressed, when you work on a campus that is gearing up for a massive influx of students. If I could get away with it, I'd be on vacation next week to avoid all the peppy frosh week stuff. I'll have to settle for the weekend, though...
--
On an entirely different note, I've been thinking a lot about judgement, skill and luck (the triumvirate of factors that determine success or failure of a wilderness expedition, according to Jim Mark. "Failure" defined as losing your gear, serious injury, or worse). One of the reasons I love adventures with Lee is the way he/we goes/go about risk management and decision-making. In all of the adventures to date, we have had virtually no moments of "holy shit, we got lucky there, that could have ended badly". And we've had a multitude of times when we've aborted something because one of us wasn't comfortable, or changed course because one of us questioned the navigation and we then stopped to figure it out. There are people whose enthusiasm infects me with the "oh hell, let's go for it" barge-on-ahead mentality, and those who actually bring out a more responsible version of me than when I'm alone (I've had two holy shit moments this summer, both were during solo day adventures). Interestingly enough, the latter approach is no less challenging physically, and requires more mental energy. The former relies on adrenalin and luck.
So, having said that... there have been times - like on the Mingan kayak adventure - where I realized, after playing it safe, that we could have done much more because luck (the wind, the waves, the sun, whatever) would have been on our side that day. But we can't count on luck. All sorts of people can do challenging adventures with luck. You just can't rely on it. There's pushing your limits, and blithely ignoring them, and they're not the same thing.
Jim's luck-skill-judgement approach can be applied to the tale captured in Andrew's latest trip report. I've always liked Andrew's pages, but these ones are heads and shoulders above the rest.
(I've also always like the concept behind Six Degrees of Separation. On those pages, you have my brother's friend Andrew going to the Torngats with the son of my parents' friends to look for someone who was an undergraduate student here, in this department, during my time at the University of Guelph.)
Posted by Johanna at September 2, 2004 11:51 AM