I have not always enjoyed exercise. Anything that made me break a sweat, out of breath, and go a tomatoey hue of red simply did not appeal to me when I was younger. It wasn't until my time in scouting that I realized that there were other, more exciting options out there as opposed to what I had experienced in PE lessons - gymnastics (doing roly-polys on rubber crash mats that for some reason were hard as rock), netball, and running around the school field until you were about to throw up. Joining this organisation introduced me to new sports such as kayaking, sailing, mountain biking (which I absolutely suck at and will probably never do again), rock climbing, and of course hiking, which is the focus of today's post. Of course, I still love all of these sports, even though they make me red in the face, but hiking is the one that really stuck. Perhaps it is the duality of hiking that appeals to me the most: seeing miles upon miles of plush grassland, small towns, and rolling hills along the walk or as the wind nips your ears and nose as you summit a peak, while you watch the space below you seemingly fall away into indiscernible flecks of green littered with the colorful coats of fellow walkers, a peaceful space where no one seems to talk too loudly, either because they are awestruck at the view before them or they are simply too out of breath. This tranquility, of course, is cut through with the fact that there is a good chance you are a few hundred feet above sea level, in the sky with a long fall below you - one wrong foot and you could take a nasty tumble. The danger doesn't end there, no, no, it's stupid, or rather common issues that create the biggest problems. Not enough water, too cold, too hot, tiredness because you overestimated yourself, and stubbornness are all killers. An underlying threat while you take in the scenery.
Life is comparable to taking a hike or climbing a mountain; it's worth the effort to see the view from the top, but sometimes you simply don't want to even attempt it - it's all too much, too much effort for a view that might not be what you expected. All that energy for a view and willpower for a cloudy sky, a shield of fog, or crowds of neon-clad hikers.
This is exactly what I recently experienced after climbing the Pen Y Fan trail, the hill that everyone and their mums in Bristol has done and massively oversold. It wasn't as difficult as it had been made out to be. It didn't matter that the view was non-existent; instead, it was the sense of achievement from knowing that we had climbed 886m with minimal complaining alongside some excellent conversation on the way up in between puffing and panting for breath, of course!
My particular friend and I have made it a point/ritual to go on a walk whenever we meet up as 99% of our friendship is online due to us being in different parts of the country. This ritual, however, has come with another one, one less intentional - a panic around our age amongst the turmoils of adulthood. More often than not, we'll be driving to our chosen destination, and at some point on the journey, one of us will declare "since when were we allowed to do this?" or "who gave us permission to just drive off and climb a big hill?" Of course, there is no answer to this apart from no one due to us both being adults who, in fact, no longer need permission to go out anymore. In fact, we haven't needed to do so in several years. I personally moved away from home three years ago, so I'm really unsure as to why it only seems to have finally sunk in now.
My logic around this is the contrast of doing an activity that I loved as a child but now as an adult, especially when the metaphorical implications of such flash constantly in my mind throughout the entire experience. That, or it's just starting to sink in that my childhood is, in fact, totally over, and I'll never be able to experience the sanctity and comfort of childhood again. A terrifying notion indeed, especially when considering the fact that life loves to repeatedly kick you in the teeth over and over again no matter what you do.
I suppose, though, that this is a common experience amongst people in their early twenties - mourning the loss of their youth despite the fact that they are still very much experiencing it in the grand scheme of things. It's a funny transitional period, I've been told. You're still considered to be a child by the majority of people, especially when you make a reference to being old (something that I frequently do), yet you're still expected to make do and thrive during this period. Once again, you find yourself to be a little fish in the huge pond that is life. Sink or swim. University is, in fact, one of the key transitional periods: new place, new friends, new people, newfound independence. But it is really after the fact that the shock factor really begins to sink in. For instance, when we were climbing the Pen Y Fan trail, we reached a sudden and unexpected scramble to summit Corn Du where I remarked, "God damn, this is like my life right now." By that, I meant that we had to start climbing on our hands and knees up a particularly steep bit that required careful traversing as there was a massive drop (from what I could tell from beyond the fog) right next to us. This was made even more difficult by a random storm with strong winds and lashing rain closing in on us. The comparison to my current position was because of the unexpectedness of everything: a mellow, steady incline to what I thought was the summit, and was littered with hikers turned into that without warning and everyone on the road seemingly disappeared.
It reminded me of the false security promised to you by following the education system. At school, as early as primary, you are sold the dream of university as it offers escape, adventure, and of course job opportunities which of course make it a no-brainer goal to work towards. Of course, it isn't a total lie as higher education obviously is a massive help in securing a good job, for instance, but what no one talks about is the in-between stage. The stage where you're stuck in hospitality or retail for another few years even though you've already been in this job since you were sixteen, just because you're too inexperienced for everything... including graduate schemes. There is, of course, the simple fact that most young adults just don't know what they want to do long term; university acted as a three-year extension of childhood where you probably should have gotten it together and worked out what you're going to do, but instead you focus on how many pints you can drink in a night. Now it's over, and you're suddenly thrust into the deep end with no idea of where to go or how to swim.
I am fortunate enough to know what I want to do, or rather exactly what I don't want to do, which is settle as I've said before. Instead, I am choosing to continue running from my problems, past, and any genuine responsibility for as long as possible. So of course, I have chosen to teach English as a foreign language, having undertaken a 120-hour course in a somewhat vain attempt to do what I want. Of course, this does mean that I do actually have to take on some responsibility as well as generally just screwing my head on because as a teacher, you do actually have to be in control... just a little bit, but the best thing is that my other two reasons are certainly achievable.
Perhaps this is me once again delaying the inevitable of growing up even though it was something that I was always in a rush to do. Traveling the world as a job will severely impact my ability to settle down, great! Yet, this is more than likely a somewhat sad manifestation of the instability of my own childhood, which is strange to say as outwardly it really looked "normal," but this didn't represent the reality. (Quick note though it was all fine, I'm just not going to unpack that on the internet. Childhood was overall pretty good). I do not know what normal looks like, but then again, does anyone?
Climbing Pen Y Fan was fun; a brilliant representation of my life at the moment. The final moment worth noting was when I decided to give up after scrambling up Corn Du, as I didn't fancy putting myself in more danger to summit Pen Y Fan itself. After some words of encouragement from my friend and a discreet mid-hike smoke, I did end up doing it, something which I definitely would have regretted not doing for the sense of achievement alone. Life, after all, tends to kick you in the teeth, taking unexpected twists and turns followed by self-doubt. Sometimes, though, it's about allowing yourself to accept help, listening to words of encouragement from your peers, some self-assertion as well as the occasional joint; it all helps. You can't do everything on your own, especially if where you ultimately want to go requires a great deal of pushing. It's about recognising the start, the journey, and the destination, knowing that every aspect is just as important as the next and knowing that the stormy weather does eventually blow over. And that is what we call character development.
Related Posts
