Me, being pretty good at packing a bag, and thinking about why I’ll never be an expert at any outdoor activity. Photo by Brandon Scherzberg
In the back of my Rav4, there’s a huge milk crate. In it, there’s a bike helmet, hiking boots, a climbing harness, a kayak paddle, tie downs, and a headlamp. There are maps of National Parks, energy bars, empty water bottles, and a first aid kit. There’s even a climbing handbook. So I must be really good at outdoor sports, right? Nope.
I’m mediocre at best, and that’s not just the self-deprecation talking. It’s not because I don’t try to be the best (I do), or I don’t practice often (I do), or I secretly hate being outdoorsy (I don’t). It’s because to be the best at something, you have to be hungry for it. You have to read books and join gyms or live in a van in Yosemite and make friends with bears and the park ranger who unlocks the bathroom. You have to carve out hours every week to work at being the best. And, most important, you have to define what you want to be the best at. And I just don’t want to.
I’m not lazy. Every day of the week I’m running, or doing sunset yoga, or hoisting my kayak on my car roof. My wetsuit is rarely dry and my boots rarely clean. But, like a relationship commitment-phobe, I can’t choose just one thing to get really, really good at. I want to flirt with kayaking, go to the movies with climbing, and then take mountain biking out for a nice seafood dinner. Sometimes, I spend time with surfing and then don’t call it for a week.
I’ll probably never get a sponsor or write a guidebook, but I also don’t feel any pressure. I can push myself at my own pace, travel wherever the wind blows me, and spend way too much money on whatever the hell I want. So if you want to become the world’s foremost slackliner, more power to you, but that’s not the path for me. I’ll be the one Leonardo DiCaprio-ing it until I’m 80 and decide I want to settle down with a nice SUP board.
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