Crazy Adventures

"So what crazy adventures have you had lately?" a friend asked me last week.

Though my answer was admittedly "none," I really love the idea that people who know me are starting to expect crazy, adventurous things from me. I've always wanted to be dependable and responsible, but never boring and predictable. For most of my life, I suspect I've been both the former and the latter. But, hopefully, no more! 

I'm steadily compiling a list of new bucket-list items now that I've crossed off blogging, skydiving, horseback riding, and swimming this year. To assist me in that mission, I've been watching a lot of Travel Channel programming lately (and, no, not just "Man v Food," though you can't beat it for quality (and quantity) food porn), especially my new favorite shows, "Extreme Terror Rides," "Xtreme Waterparks," and "Ride-iculous." 

 

Watching TV typically isn't hazardous to my health, but in this case it might be because I'm getting all sorts of ideas firmly planted in my head, crazy thrills like base jumping (basically a combination of bungee jumping and skydiving), ziplining, Zorbing, dune buggying through the desert, jetboating, water slides, roller coasters, slingshot rides, go karting, and many more wacky and wonderful things that I've yet to experience. 

http://www.travelchannel.com/video/jetboat-through-a-canyon

I think I've spent enough of my life sitting on the sidelines watching other people have all the fun. Now it's time for me to get in the game and be an active participant in my own life. It's time to explore my adventurous side, which lay dormant for so long that I forgot it ever existed (if it ever did). It's been struggling to come out for a long time, but I've kept it mostly suppressed. 

But I'm ready to run amok. I'm ready to surprise myself and everyone else. I'm ready to really live and really feel alive every day, not just go through the motions of life, crossing items off my ever-present to-do list, watching the days of my life tick away without ever really growing or living.

The Real Story?

Hannah Anderson: victim or villain? (www.gospelherald.com)

We've become cynical. Very, very cynical.

That fact has been driven home to me, if it hadn't been previously, since I started reading online feedback to the sensational kidnapping and subsequent rescue and return of 16-year-old Hannah Anderson. If you haven't followed this extraordinary story, Hannah was kidnapped by a 40-something-year-old male family friend with a reported (by Hannah herself on a social media site after her return) romantic interest in her after  killing her mother, younger brother, and dog, and setting fire to his home to destroy evidence. But some of those items were pulled from the ashes, including letters from Hannah to her captor, according to news articles. 

That information, along with reports of a dozen phone calls exchanged between victim and captor on the day of the incident, and Hannah's insistence on resuming an active social media presence (even answering questions about her experience from strangers online), has people shaking their heads and suspecting foul play...on Hannah's part. She's been a bit too resilient, the skeptics have commented. She's been a bit too willing to make public appearances (online and otherwise).

 http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/14/us/hannah-anderson-social-media

As terrible as that sounds, I understand the skepticism. We've seen and heard too many news stories of teenage girls running away with adult male boyfriends, lying about their actions,...and worse. (I recall seeing "48 Hours" telecast a story of a teenage girl who killed her mother for threatening to disrupt the girl's relationship with her bad-influence boyfriend.) These things, unfortunately, are not unprecedented. 

Women, unfortunately, fake their own kidnappings. Teenage girls, unfortunately, run away from home (with or without boyfriends). The truth, we've learned, isn't always what it appeared to be.

Is Hannah's post-return behavior strange? Who's to say? She's a teenager. She's a teenager who has experienced a series of horrific life-changing events in a week's time. In all the media storm surrounding this, I think we've lost sight of that important fact.

Many teenagers are addicted to social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr, sharing way too much personal information with virtual strangers. Perhaps that social connection is sustaining her through the loss of her family and aiding her recovering. Perhaps she's still in shock and hasn't processed anything at all. Maybe she's just acting without thinking. (She wouldn't be the first teenager-or adult-to be guilty of that!)

I don't know. What I do know is I can't imagine myself publicly answering questions or posting information about such an ordeal on Facebook. I can't imagine not lying low for a very long time afterward, so the news articles about her Facebook posts and ask.fm question-and-answer session gave me a squicky feeling, though there's nothing necessarily sinister in that.

I don't understand why she has chosen to address this so publicly, but maybe she doesn't either. Personally, I don't want to believe that she (or anyone else) was involved in the deaths of her family in any way. Of course I don't. So I'm choosing to believe in her innocence unless the evidence (if it exists) proves her guilty of wrongdoing. 

But like any other cynical American news watcher, I'm also fervently hoping that "we don't get fooled again" (to quote the Who).

Moving Forward

As I promised myself in last week's post, I did "go" beyond my limitations during last Saturday's swimming session, more than I have in any of the previous lessons, earning myself a highly coveted high-five from Nancy, my wonderfully-fierce personal trainer/instructor, and an unexpected round of applause from the young male lifeguard (who has seen far too much of my utterly embarrassing pool flailing, though necessarily so, I suppose).

And thank God for that because, as much as I'm not a quitter, I seriously wanted to throw in the (swimming) towel after my third disastrous attempt at swimming. But it seems my quirky kitchen-sink practice has made a huge difference in making me more comfortable with putting (and keeping) my head underwater. Now I need to work on keeping it there as I glide a short distance from one side to the other with my arms stretched out in front of me (next to my ears), with my chin to my chest, my eyes on the bottom of the pool, and my legs kicking behind me. Nancy makes it look so easy that it's frustrating for this type-A perfectionist not to be able to duplicate it after my first 100 (or so) attempts at graceful gliding.

My backwards floating has also improved, though I instinctively panic and fall out of position when I feel Nancy let go of me. Naturally, I guess, I'm more trusting of her ability (which is infinite) than mine (which is miniscule). 

It's all about comfort (and discomfort, in a sense). Overcoming aquaphobia requires putting yourself in the uncomfortable element often enough that you become comfortable with it, which I am, very, very slowly. 

I don't know if I'll ever love swimming (if I ever become a real swimmer, that is, though I'm thinking optimistically) enough  to swim laps in the YMCA pool at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning, as some of my far-advanced fellow pool inhabitants admirably do, but my ultimate goal is to be unafraid. To be fearless, in and out of the pool.

The Third Time (Wasn't the Charm)

"Today we're gonna go!" Nancy, my swimming instructor, cheerfully informed me when I checked in at the YMCA's front desk last Saturday. 

Unfortunately, despite our best intentions, we didn't "go" very far...

Coming into my third lesson, I felt good, cautiously optimistic, though, granted, a huge chunk of that good feeling was immense relief at fleeing the pool for a one-week reprieve before the next round of torture fun. 

I left after my third lesson, last week, feeling totally discouraged. The reason why: my psychological fear of holding my face underwater is holding me back. 

If I can't do that, I realized, I can't do anything else. I'm wasting my time, energy, and money (and, believe me, I do not like to waste any of these things) on swimming lessons unless I force myself to overcome this fear. But it's huge. Even the thought of holding my face (or, God forbid, my head) underwater makes me panic. It equals drowning to me. So I have a decision to make: Which is stronger, my fear of water or my desire to swim? My answer will determine everything else that happens (or doesn't happen). 

First the sink, then the pool.

To help me improve, I've given myself homework. Every evening I practice immersing my face in a kitchen sink full of water. I know this sounds (and probably looks) very strange, especially since I don my swimming cap and goggles when doing so (though I stop short of changing into my swimsuit), but whatever works, right? 

I'm getting accustomed to this uncomfortable feeling, gradually holding it under longer and deeper, while showing myself that I can do it without drowning (or inhaling a gallon of water up my nose, which is almost as horrible). 

 If all goes well, this weekend I'll be ready to go!