Is It Ever Too Late to Return to Your Past?

I actually used to be pretty good at white water paddling. In a kayak, a buddy and I would navigate rivers usually reserved for only the large inflatable rafts. And in our canoes we felt pretty at ease in anything up to class three rapids. So, not a pro, but definitely a little beyond the weekend warrior.

I was also one of the ‘early adopters’ in the mountain biking scene. Back when ski hills where purely winter spots we spent summers bombing down the mountains on our new fangled mountain bikes.

My wife was a fellow adrenaline junky. Early in our relationship, we spent most weekends and all of our holidays in thew mountains, in rivers or camping deep in the wilderness.

More recently, we’ve softened. We still stay in shape, but our activities are a little more family friendly. Multi-pitch rick climbing expeditions have been replaced by trips to the local climbing gym. Mountain biking down ski hills has been replaced by the Peleton in our basement. And white water paddling; that is now canoeing on the lake at our cottage.

But last weekend, we got a blast from the past. An old friend who we used to paddle and camp with called. At, like, 8am Saturday morning, the phone rang (no text — actual ringing phone): “how about some white water paddling today? Water levels are perfect and I have our boats all loaded up.” My wife and I had no plans for the day and our daughter was going to be busy with homework, so we agreed.

By 11:00 we were on the water. It was gorgeous, very remote river with lots of fast moving water. It felt amazing. We set off, in great spirits. The first set of rapids was about 5 minutes into the paddle. We scouted them and it looked like a very straight forward class 1 set. We paddled through it easily, but I was a little surprised at how awkward it felt paddling through fast moving water. The canoe didn’t move as I remembered, my control of it was dodgy, and I had a hard time reading the current from the boat. In a nutshell, I was super rusty.

The rest of the day, while absolutely stunningly gorgeous, was a lesson in humility. We swamped our canoe twice, on what should have been fairly easy rapids. And on the only truly hard set of rapids we did, we crashed into a rock and damaged the canoe. I was flabbergasted and embarrassed by how out of practice I was. My friend, who had stayed an active outdoorsman all his life, was navigating the water with ease. Post-covid resolution — a whitewater refresher course at our local paddle club.

The next day was a mountain biking day. The was less humiliating but not without its issues. A local cycling club has recently opened a set of really well maintained mountain biking trails near where we live. My wife and I decided to check those out. They’re really nice single track trails, but very easy. In order to increase the popularity of mountain biking, a number of clubs have been cutting some easier, flatter trails that are a little more accessible.

We hit the trail and I was feeling pretty good about how I felt. The movements were coming back to me and I felt pretty ‘in the groove’. But then I noticed something. Everyone else there — far from being mountain biking pros on their $4,000 bikes, they were mostly rank amateurs. There were couples out for a weekend ride, even some families. This was now my tribe. Not even the weekend warriors. The weekend hobbiests. Post-covid resolution #2 — get out to a proper mountain biking trail and regain some of that skill and fearlessness.

Aging sucks. And losing the skills to do things you truly love sucks. I’m going to turn back both of those tides. This is the perfect summer to do it. adventure

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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