Invincible

   People who have watched some of my adventures at a distance--i.e. through Facebook--often have the impression that I'm totally gung ho about dangerous stuff. People who are not so at-a-distance, like the pals I went caving with last post, have told me that I act like I'm invincible and that I need to learn that I can die just like anyone else.

   I am sort of amused to hear this because it is so terribly untrue. Sometimes, I think I am the most frightened, scaredy-cat person in the world. I have an incredibly inventive brain that is able to think of every possible way I could die/get mutilated in any situation.

Particularly this situation.

     It makes me wonder if this is the case for a lot of daredevil type people--people famous for their free solo climbing or extreme kayaking, or those crazy backcountry skiers who purposely trigger avalanches to outrun them. Maybe they are scared too, and the only way they can think of to overcome it is to run straight at it, head on.

    I doubt this is unique to me. In fact, it seems like a very human trait. Where would we be if someone thousands of years ago hadn't decided to pick up a spear and chase after a giant woolly mammoth? If we'd stuck to trapping chipmunks and squirrels, I doubt we would have ever made it out of the stone age. Easy prey brings small reward.

Eh, plenty of reward here on this pillow.

As a species, we owe a lot to fear. It alerts us to danger, obviously. But there seems to be an equally strong pull toward it in humankind. My most reliable signal for when I ought to do something is when I am afraid of it. (Note I say fear and not downright repulsion, like playing chicken on train tracks or something. Big difference.)

Humans, in fact, almost seem addicted to fear. Look at some of our favorite pastimes, including horror films, theme parks, and extreme sports. As a species we are all about the fear.  Judging by the actions of a typical teenager, it seems to be a biological mechanism to curb our overpopulation.

 Strangely, my enjoyment of a situation shoots up along with the danger level. I like climbing routes while on a top rope a lot, but I enjoy climbing lead even more (and I am definitely not alone in this). The difference: the risk factor. Skiing at a moderate pace is pretty fun. Racing to the point where the trees become blurs is awesome.

And yet, every time I go skiing my brain is wondering if I'm going to break a leg today. In the middle of my Banff adventure, I suddenly became paralyzed with fear that the car was going to break down and strand us in the middle of the Canadian wilderness with no help for days. Sometimes I am afraid even to go on a hike because I am afraid of not being able to keep up the pace. Before I do just about anything, I am afraid of failure.

Seen here: lovely piece of FAILURE TO REACH THE SUMMIT

I have learned that the more often you give in to fear and avoid whatever it is you are afraid of, the bigger it grows. It compounds on itself until you are suddenly wrestling with a giant beast everywhere you go. And/or the nagging knowledge that you didn't make it to the top of the peak because fear turned you away (not that this is personal experience or anything. . . )

So instead of avoiding it, you might as well embrace it. Contrary to my friends and family's beliefs, I am all too aware of each mortal breath I take. There are a million ways to die, and we only have control over a very limited number of them. I could try to avoid all of them and spend my life in a sealed underground bunker. . . but, realistically no, I could not. No one can predict that if you spend your entire life not doing "dangerous" things, you won't just trip over a curb and break your head open on the sidewalk. Generally speaking, I take calculated risks, and carefully decide if what I am about to do is worth accepting that risk.

And. . . sometimes I'm just young and dumb. My bad.

Cliff diving: because your friends told you to.