Have I Become an Adventure Wuss? ¹
“Roughing it” in your fifties
I’ve always been kinda adventurous. As a baby, my parents say I regularly climbed out of my cot (crib), before I could even walk. I assume there was more than one fall, and head-bump. (could explain a lot)
When I was about 2-years old, I reportedly escaped the yard, and went to explore the outside world. My mom found me on the pavement (side-walk) opposite our house. Two-year-old me had crossed a fairly busy residential street.
Mom was understandably distressed. I had to promise not to leave the yard unless I was accompanied by someone older than I.
A few days later, there I was again, wandering down the opposite pavement. Understandably, my mother was angry that I’d broken my promise. With a genuine absence of guile, I told her that I had not broken my promise. I explained that “Draggit”, my older, imaginary (but no-less real) friend was with me.
My mother amended my promise to state that any companion, for extra-yard activities, had to be both adult, and visible to her or my father. I promised.
Thus, on my next exploratory mission, I was — very responsibly — accompanied by the cat. After all, the cat was visible to all, and I knew it was an adult, since it had given birth to kittens. As you can imagine, my mother was less than impressed by my 2-year-old logic.
That pretty much set the pattern for my childhood, and the rest of my life. I had an insatiable need to know what was around the corner, down the road, or over the hill. I had to know whether my bicycle could fly — given a big enough ramp.
(I was six when I first tried that — within days of learning to ride a two-wheeler.)
Trees, hills, gates, fences, and even buildings, had to be climbed. Then, of course, I had to test different ways of jumping from them, and slowing my descent.
Spoiler alert : neither umbrellas, nor handkerchiefs slow one’s descent from a roof.
My parents quickly learned to take my “leaving home” announcements seriously. I wasn’t necessarily unhappy, I just wanted to experience something new and exciting. Adventure called.
During my teens (1970s), I was “blessed” with many like-minded friends. We explored the hills (koppies) and vleis² (wetlands) of northern Johannesburg. Stupidly dangerous behaviour involving (but not limited to) skateboards, bicycles, motorbikes, airguns, gunpowder, and home-made smoke-bombs, was all too common. We hitch-hiked, and caught buses all over Jo’burg. (one of Africa’s largest cities) Obviously, we seldom, if ever, mentioned any of this to our parents. They might have said, “No!”.
I left home for military service, at seventeen. Just after basic training, I “hitched” a 3000km (+1800 miles) round-trip in 3 days, just to spend a few hours with my girlfriend. I’d have been court-marshalled, as AWOL (absent without leave), if I’d not returned in time. I made it, with literally minutes to spare.
When I was twenty, I broke my femur very badly in a car crash. I spent four and a half months with my leg in traction. When I was discharged from hospital, I was on crutches, and had four months of “recovery” leave. Naturally, I packed my rucksack, and hitched all over the country on my crutches. (Getting lifts when you’re on crutches is a cinch)
Most of the time, I slept rough — on beaches, in fields, the African bush, or in forests. I had a wonderful time.
During my life, I’ve been a soldier, sailor, TV cameraman, waiter, chef, and restaurant manager. For 3-years, I was a full-time student — at a Bible college, no less. For a while, I designed, made, and sold leather bags, shoes, sandals, and belts. Over the years, I’ve done all kinds of work to survive, make extra money, or do something different. I’ve helped to build houses, open restaurants, or rebuild cars and motorbikes. I’ve painted houses, stuffed envelopes, and been a baby-sitter.
During my 28+ years in IT — I’ve been a programmer, technician, network administrator, trainer, retailer, analyst, consultant, and business owner.
For some years, my wife and I had a successful MLM (multi-level marketing) business. I was even a high school teacher for a couple of years. (never again) My wife and I, planned, started, and managed (for seven years) a multi-project, non-profit, community benefit trust. (since taken over by others, and doing very well) One of the projects that I ran for a number of years, was teaching English to French-speaking, Central-African refugees. I don’t speak French. That was an adventure.
I’m a writer, editor, photographer, artist, woodworker, chef, and teacher-practitioner of all things artistic and creative. What can I say? I love variety.
(none of this is a complete listing)
About four years ago, my wife, daughter, and I, in response to a family emergency, moved to the other end of the country. We were asked, decided, packed up/sold, and moved — all in about a month. My wife and I had lived in Cape Town for about 30-years, and my daughter had never lived anywhere else. Exchanging one of the most beautiful, creative cities in the world for a small, conservative farming town, has been tough on all of us. That challenge is still in progress. Homesickness is real, folks.
To put all the above in a nutshell — adventure is integral to my nature, and happily, I am blessed with an adventurous wife and daughter.
So, other than bragging about my adventurous life, where am I going with this?
Well, as I’ve said before, I’m no longer as young as I once was. However, I still feel the need for adventure, roughing it, living on the edge, and discovery. (Inside every old man, there is a boy …wondering WTF happened.)
Unfortunately, I’ve come across something of a problem. My body is revolting. I don’t just mean that I’m no longer good to look at — although that’s probably true. Rather, I mean that my body has revolted.
My body has revolted against sleeping on the ground, or not having a chair to sit on at a campsite. My body has definitely revolted against walking long distances in rough terrain, or soft sand. My body has revolted against climbing … just about anything.
Back in my youth, I could fall from a tree or a roof, and bounce back to my feet with an “ouch” and a laugh. Now, a simple trip-and-fall can leave me in agony for days. In my teens, high-speed wipe-outs — mainly bicycles, motorbikes, or skateboards — were just stories to share with friends. Not any more. A few years ago, I was practising riding my motorbike in thick sand. I overbalanced, and fell at about 15kph (9mph) — i.e. very slow — onto soft, beach sand. It took me weeks to recover. (okay … it may even have been enough weeks to call it months)
Last weekend, Kerry (my wife) and I, went away for the long weekend. It was nothing wildly adventurous. We just took a relaxing, two-hour ride (on my bike) to spend the weekend with a friend. None-the-less, we were rather excited. Due to our current life-situation, it was the first time, in over four years, that we’d managed to get away together.
On the first night, I couldn’t get comfortable, and didn’t sleep well. I slept better on the second night, but woke up with a painfully stiff neck, shoulder, and a rather vicious tension headache.
At this point, I should probably confess. No, I was not sleeping rough. I was sleeping in a comfortable, double-bed in our friend’s house. My debilitating injury — shoulder, neck & head — were caused by not sleeping on my own pillows. Yes, I’d hang my head in shame … if my neck weren’t stiff.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. My heart still wants to live on the edge of adventure, but my neck must have its own, special support pillow.
Well, I can tell you — that worried me … and got me thinking.
Our daughter is now twenty, and she’ll no-doubt leave home in a year or two. Kerry and I, have long dreamed about extended motorcycle-camping adventures through Africa. Maybe, even beyond Africa.
There’s only one problem. My 58-year-old body has betrayed me over a pillow! How will my 60+year-old body cope with long-term biking and rough camping in Africa?
So, there’s my dilemma. I’m not ready to give up on adventure, but I’m forced to acknowledge reality.
I’m sure many of you, reading this, can identify — to some extent — with my quandary. None of us are as young as we once were — even if you are still “young”. We all change with age, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Not only is my body “feeling its age”, but it’s also more challenging to maintain flexibility in other areas of life.
Most of my writing at the moment deals with my process of creative re-assessment. How do I change myself and what I do, to live creatively in my “new” environment?
In days gone by, I found it easy to switch from one skill, job, or task to another. Steep learning curves were ramps to launch me into orbit, to see how far I’d fly. Challenges were fun, and obstacles were there for climbing practice.
Well, I’ve already said that climbing is no longer something I do for fun. Failure to fly usually results in a splat, rather than a bounce. Recovery, whether physical, mental, or emotional, is certainly not the breeze it used to be.
Must I just accept my new reality? Are my days of adventuring over?
Oh hell! I sincerely hope not.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.³
Rage against the death of adventure, I most certainly shall. However, unless I want to spend my life wallowing in a sea of discomfort, pain, and frustration, I also need to recognise my current reality.
I need to acknowledge that my body is not as young and limber as it once was. I must recognise that although I’m not stuck in my ways, there’s far more change-inertia than there used to be.
All that, means that I must first reassess, and redefine my definitions of adventure.
In my teens and twenties, adventure was almost always physical. Intellectual, emotional, and creative pursuits were exciting, but I seldom thought of them as adventure.
But, since then, I’ve been been engaged and dumped — more than once. I’ve been married for 28-years. My daughter had four open-heart operations before she turned two. We were told, on multiple occasions, that she wouldn’t make it. She’s now twenty, and healthy. How’s that for adventure.
In my youth, there were so many things at which I wanted to try my hand. I was always up for the next challenge. Hence my widely varied career. But now, I’ve done all those things. Some I liked, some I loved, and some I’ll only repeat with a gun to my head — but, I’ve done them.
These days, I know what I want to do, but am battling to do it in my present circumstance. So, one of my current adventures is doing things I don’t want to do, while figuring out how to do what I want. I’m looking into online, remote and freelance work, and even online English teaching. My aim is to find work that I can do wherever I am — even from a tent in the African bush.
The second thing I need to do, if I’m to adventure on into my twilight years, is work on my physical fitness.
I’m not proud to say that I’m almost twice the man I used to be — and not in a good way. While I’ve already managed to lose about 30kg (66lb), I still need to lose at least thirty kilos more. Have I mentioned that I’m not a small man, neither in height (1.9m/6'4"), nor girth.
In addition to losing considerable mass/weight, I need to increase my fitness levels. Here’s the thing about being overweight. You slowly but surely do less, and less, and less. One day, you realise you’re puffing and panting up slopes that no-one else can see. Then, horror of horrors, you hear yourself groan as you get out of your chair. Parking spots are never close enough, and don’t even think about a 10-minute stroll to the shop.
So, I’ve started slowly, with some Ba Duan Jin (Chi Gung exercises), and plan to start Tai Chi and yoga soon. (good, low-impact exercise) As of next week, I plan to walk every day. Who knows, maybe some day, I’ll be able to run again. I used to love running.
I’ve never been this old before, and don’t know where my limits are. So, I’m taking it easy — planning for endurance, not speed.
Finally, I’m working at being more mindful about the adventures on which I’ve already embarked. Every aspect of life is more rewarding when lived in mindfulness and gratitude.
In three years time, I want the option of adventuring through Africa — whether I ultimately decide to do so, or not. During my twilight years, I don’t just want to eke out my days. Whatever my actual circumstances, I want my life to still be an adventure. I want to be fit enough, in body, mind, and spirit to enjoy the days that I have left on this earth.
Thanks for reading. I hope you’ll join me in reassessing adventure in your life, and putting plans in place to make adventure a reality.
Please feel free to share, clap, and comment. Thoughtful disagreement is just as welcome as praise.
¹ Wuss — wimp, sissy, weak, ineffectual …
² Afrikaans for marshlands/wetlands/swamps[singular vlei] — pronounced to sound like “flay/s”
³ Do not go gentle into that good night — Dylan Thomas, 1914–1953
