Thanks for visiting my blog. I’m documenting my quest to have 60 adventures - one a week for 60 weeks - leading to my 60th birthday. Enjoy!
All in Physical Challenges
What made me think I could ride my bike nearly 60 miles, with no training?
For many of you, swimming a mile ranks at about the same level of challenge as walking around the block.
For me, though, it is a big deal.
I think horseback riding is a bit like riding a bicycle; while I had a lot to learn, I definitely didn’t feel like a first-timer.
I think my resistance to getting a tat shows my age. So many younger people I know - in their 20’s, 30’s and even 40’s - have tattoos as a matter of course. They serve as a right of passage or a means of self-expression. Not so in my generation. Very few friends my age sport any ink.
Did you know that table tennis comes in second to soccer as the most popular sport in the world?
After taking just one lesson, I understand why. It’s so much fun! In an hour, I was getting the hang of the basics, and could see my way to improvement with practice.
It turns out I’m a pretty good shot. Still, once is enough. I never want to shoot a gun again.
My summer camp memories of archery include standing in the hot sun with a heavy bow, getting thwacked on the arm with the bowstring, arrows flying past my target or landing on the target next to mine. Also the great feeling of hitting a bull’s eye, or getting close; on the rare occasions that happened, it had way more to do with chance than skill.
Boy, the sport has changed.
No, I did not improve.
The fencing lessons I took reminded me about the purpose of this adventure quest: trying things out, expanding my orbit, pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone. At the end, I’ll be an “expert dilettante,” not an expert in any one domain. Certainly not in fencing.
It’s hard!
Are you a Princess Bride fan? If so, you’ll recognize the sword fight between Inigo Montoya (Mandy Patinkin) and Westley (at that point in the movie, The Man In Black, played by Cary Elwes) as one of the greatest demonstrations of fencing on film.
Anyone watching wants to do what Patinkin and Elwes can do: dance around, swords clicking in time; feint and thrust; throw their swords in the air and catch them; leap over rocks and up steps; flip in the air over their opponent. The duel is a classic, beautiful work of art.
So can I learn to spar like that, at least a little?
Ha!
Those of you with natural singing ability don’t know how lucky you are.
Since my first ever singing lesson over a month ago, I’ve been practicing and continuing to work with voice teacher Akela Franklin. When you’re starting from scratch, learning to keep a tune takes a lot of hard work, both physical and emotional.
When my daughter showed me a video of her visit to the Institute of Contemporary Art, where she walked through the air on gymnastics rings suspended by ropes from the ceiling, I said, “I want to do that!”
She had made it all the way through the jungle of rings, from one end of the installation to the other, without touching the ground. While she warned me that it took a lot of upper body strength, I was pretty sure I could make it, too. Not!
Snowboarders look so cool surfing down the slope, effortlessly shifting their weight to turn one way and then the other. I used to ski; surely the skills transfer. How hard could it be?
Hard. Very, very hard.
As a clutzy and uncoordinated kid, I hated gym. I couldn’t run fast, throw a ball straight, or make a basket. Ever. One thing I could do, though, was shimmy up the ropes to the top of the gym and touch the ceiling. It felt great to master an activity that some more physically gifted kids found challenging.
As a clutzy and uncoordinated adult, I wasn’t sure I wanted to try rock climbing. My flying-up-the-ropes days lived in the nether regions of my memory, and the thought of scaling walls up to 50 feet high seemed intimidating.
Still, this adventure quest beckoned, so there I stood at Brooklyn Boulders in Somerville, MA, harness on, ropes attached, staring straight up and repeating silently to myself, “You can do this, you can do this …”
Back in the day, dancing with a partner meant “slow dancing.” We’d either rock to the Stones (or later, the Talking Heads or the B-52’s) without touching another human being, or when Stairway to Heaven played, we’d hold onto our partner and awkwardly rock back and forth.
Nobody ever taught me how to actually dance with another person.
Whenever I’ve tried to swing around a dance floor with a partner, I’ve felt stiff and inept. I don’t follow well; giving up control of the direction of my movements - or of anything in my life! - feels unnatural, and only now as I’m entering the last year of my fifth decade am I starting to let go. There’s not all that much we can actually control, so we might as well enjoy the ride.
And enjoy it I did when I took a ballroom dancing lesson.
