CHANGING GEARS: A DETERMINED MIND AND MUSCLE POWER UP

“The way we see the problem is the problem.” 
― Stephen R. Covey

There’s a horizon called Easy. It’s unconsciously locked into most people’s dream destinations. You arrive there in comfort, with minimal dis-ease, hardly breaking a sweat or spitting a cuss. It’s the ‘Granny gear’ of all utopias, easy to reach after nominal peddling, pain and gear shifting. Life there is a freewheeling downhill ride.

There’s a price to pay for riding ‘Granny gear’, where the bike chain sits in it’s lowest position. Alignment is incongruous, wear is exacerbated and the load rests heavily on the sum of the parts. The scenery can be dull, the challenge low, and sense of achievement vanilla.

But it’s not like I want to ride The Tour, so why not be a sucker for easy?

When the gear levers suddenly freeze and the desired, pre-programmed shift down into easy fails, the road takes a mid-course correction. The cruise turns into a climb, demanding a mental- muscle gear change or an opt in to coward-arse.  Bail now, phone for help? Or suck it up and wave goodbye to Granny?

With no immediate change in the flat terrain, my quadricepts ache with the notion of pending uphill affliction. Sensory nerves send bogus burn messages to my calves, sweat beads to my forehead and reduced oxygen to my lungs. In this fight or flight scenario it’s time to chose the shit or grit – sandwich.

Wrestling against failure rapidly becoming my truth, I decide to override gloom and crank up determination – enthusiasm is common but endurance rare. With an inventory list of challenges rapidly recognised, there’s the twighlight zone of begrudging acceptance and halfhearted commitment, before making the ultimate pledge to peddling perserverance.

Along the initially gradual incline, the self- talk socialite gets comfortable rewiring messages, reinforcing the rosy and blindsiding the balderdash – a steady conquering of ‘can’t’. Each degree of incline demands further dedication and disregard of discomfort. Remember, there’s no shame in a shove uphill or a precipitous push. The finish line remains fixed, embellished through adjusting the pace of performance.

But I’m not advocating some kind of masochistic motivation or punishing peddle. Merely a slight paradigm shift. A mental-muscle gear change out of easy into effort, from bland to brave, and an engagement with the unfamiliar. An ensuing steady shift from pain to practice, to perserverance, and exasperatingly ultimately also pleasure. Stronger legs, stronger minds lead to unfolding trails with choices and meritorious mountain climbs that will ultimately always, (let’s be real), at some point bring you back to Granny.

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ARE YOU KID-DING?

“Because the teachers hate me.” Is the sweaty response from the continuously complaining 14 year old as to why he was in the most difficult hiking group on the school camp. “That way they don’t have me hanging around base camp for three days.” His athletic, teen build and energetic aura hinted at the more likely reason he’d been selected to pound the three day trail from Tidal River, to Waterloo Bay and on to Sealers Cove.

Radiating heat from rugged granitic rock faces smothers conversation as the group of heavily laden Year 8 students trek the path towards Little Oberon Bay. Seeking solace under sheoaks, embracing hints of cool ocean breeze, adjusting and readjusting packs in search of the sweet spot; oversized shoes generate demand for Elastoplast repairs to blistering feet as a steady rhythm develops, fate is accepted, complaints lessen, and grabs into scroggin filled zip lock bags increase.

In a trend soon to be solidified teens become toddlers at the sight of sand, waves and steep boulders. Agility training apparently already required after 4 kilometres, packs are shed, shoes tossed aside, and boulders scaled. Warnings to keep feet dry go unheeded as sand settling in socks create hotspots heading for a fortunately dry Growlers Creek crossing into Oberon Bay.

Along the sun-drenched track to Telegraph Junction black dust clutches perspiring legs and coastal breezes fade. A discontented murmuring amongst students confirms the disconnect between the kilometres to be covered on day one in the camp brochure and distance already covered. The ‘Are we there yets?’ increase as the additional 5 kilometres are added to the day’s agenda. Questions and complaints are unlikely to have been less with Telegraph Saddle as the Trailhead. The hope of a ‘swim’ at Waterloo Bay, keeps eyes peeled on the horizon and determination in strides.

After 15.7 kilometres, tea tree and messmates give yield to the white siliceous sands and the incandescent blue of Waterloo Bay. The outgoing tide seemingly extracting self – doubt and uncertainty, the salt air filling with the prospect of success, capability and confidence. Receding waves lap up vestiges of the ‘impossible’, invigorating the group’s last 1.5 kilometres to the campground as hats, food and clothing are rescued from the inlet crossing scrambling up to Little Waterloo Bay Track.

Excitement builds as tent poles poke and bend finding their correct order and angle, sleeping mats inflate for hopefully the required duration, and pack contents are strewn through sleeping quarters. “Remember no food in tents. Who needs wombats when you have each other!” The initial aversion to hiking and physical exertion dissipates in the steam of boiling noodle packets, apple crumble deserts and hot chocolates. Torchlight hides the reality of the drop toilet experience and lurking native animals hustle tired bodies into bed. As laughter roars and warnings for silence fly, who was it that didn’t want to hike?

Alarms ring early, in anticipation of severe afternoon storms. A speedy pace is set through an ever-inclining understory rich in lichen, moss and blue wrens, with a towering canopy of all things eucalyptus overhead. Shortly before Kersops Peak, pangs for morning tea are aroused by the all – pervading honey scent of the Kunzea Ambigua, strong enough to fool a bear. The view from Kersops Peak temporarily suspends all other form of teen conversation. Xbox has finally met its match in the spectacular vistas spanning the secluded Refuge Cove, misty mountain coverings and the huge expanse of the Tasman Sea.

Teenage egos jostling for position slowly meld into team as ‘can’t’ metamorphosizes into ‘can’. Passing through the once thriving whaling station of Refuge Cove and on to Sealers Cove, the site of a mid 1800’s timber mill sets the backdrop for the evening. Spared from the tent tearing storms and rain ravaging Tidal River, Trangia’s prepare dinners, burning pancakes and bracken simultaneously. Tents without flies bode disaster under the Cumulonimbus heavy skies, whilst guy ropes are set, and drainage dug for the pending downpour.

The final morning brings with it lessons in tent living, leaks and leeches. A crack of dawn departure avoids disaster at Sealers Creek where the tide already runs high. Hope beams wide as a rainbow points in the direction of the treasured trail end. Trudging through the temperate rainforest, ancient fern gullies, across boardwalks and over swamps, Windy Hill marks difficulty completed as the trail traverses towards its close.

Three days leave negativity, suspicion, self – doubt and uncertainty on the track. Telegraph Saddle is reached with ruck sacks lighter and spirits fuller with determination, resilience, courage and celebration of personal triumph over challenge with a request to “Do it again right now.” Personal fortification gradually collected in an environment where the crashing of waves and whistling of birds replace relentless pings of Insta posts and Facebook messages. Where chats lasted longer than a snap and the memories of fun, achievement, and triumph will last so much longer than a Fortnight.

Base Camp

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary.” Henry David Thoreau

There’s a hill near our place that has been provoking me, beckoning to me for months. Having been restricted to short walks with a ‘vanilla’ gradient and camber, each time I’ve passed it, the visceral reality of the challenge and temptation is acute. Once part of my pre injury walking routine, a low simmering  anticipation, yearning, and intrinsic fear embraces my motives and desire for reunification with its 12.5% gradient and the path lying beyond onto the bush track or  ‘woods’.

The evolution of physical progress, is dictated by one’s acceptance of the challenge on the periphery of one’s comfort zone, and a willingness to ‘live deliberately’ despite it all.  Excuses abound and are commonplace. Security is found in the “I can’t”, rather than the freedom of “I can”. ‘Everything is hard before it is easy’, is willingly overlooked for the safety of the familiar. Resignation settles deeply. Life remains a tiebreaker.

An enquiry of the new, or dissatisfaction with the present, forms impetus for change or acceptance of challenge. The pain-pleasure principle refers to one’s appetite to seek gratification, achievement or success, or to avoid pain. It confirms or rejects motivation. It looks for a gradient, or searches out the flat. It lives deliberately or shuns intentionally.

“It takes an enormous amount of internal security to begin with the spirit of adventure, the spirit of discovery, the spirit of creativity. Without doubt, you have to leave the comfort zone of base camp and confront an entirely new and unknown wilderness.” Stephen Covey

The ‘wilderness’ in my sights is not unknown, the pathway though often trodden has changed. Purpose must override pain. Anticipation must accentuate opportunity. Gradient must become a God send.

“ I’m pressing on the upward way,
New heights I’m gaining every day;
Still praying as I onward bound,
“Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.”

“My heart has no desire to stay
Where doubts arise and fears dismay;
Though some may dwell where these abound,
My prayer, my aim, is higher ground.”

I want to scale the utmost height
And catch a gleam of glory bright;
But still I’ll pray till rest I’ve found,
“Lord, lead me on to higher ground.”  Johnson Oatman

I’m readying to leave base camp…..

Are We There Yet?

The Enneagram personality type Seven is summarized as ‘The Enthusiast’. Attributing characteristics such as busy, fun-loving, curious, optimistic, and adventurous to the individual. ‘Sevens’ are excited by the rush of ideas; generally quick responders with agile minds and often able to see the big picture. There is an underpinning abundant vitality and desire to fully participate in life each day. Or, for a more creative explanation:
‘An ant carrying a larger than life bread crumb; scrambling, overcoming obstacles, challenging reality and LOVING IT, looking for still more’.

Forced commitment to the long windy road for a Seven therefore regularly brings up the restless question “Are we there yet”? Unfortunately, unlike the response given to children on long road trips, the answer is more complicated. In short – ‘No’.

The envious quality of patience, described as “The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious”, is a distant, rarely required or embraced trait for a Seven; where life is an autobahn of dynamic choices and opportunities.

When the green light of activity turns red to an unquestionable stop, the transition to orange and back to green is fraught with detours and road works. This slow jam demands unconditional acceptance of delay, the re-routing of the roadmap and an adjusted destination timeframe. Trip meter set to zero. A forced submission to patience dictates a new strategy.

“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”
John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress

“The way of life lies here”. ”Come, pluck up, heart”. A hint of joy? That sounds like a Seven. Courage in the now. Determination in the present. Perseverance in the today. “Let’s neither faint nor fear”. A choice required, with positive options accepted. Refocus, recommit, align expectations. Discover the divine in the ordinary. Uncover the unexpected joys of the detour, peace transforming pain, healing consuming injury, through the plotting of a slow, deliberate, determined trajectory towards the green light, whilst patiently learning to enjoy the view from the jam.

“Are we here yet?” Yes. In the now we are here. In the perseverance, we are here. In the patience, we are here. In the discovery of the ordinary, we are here.