When I decided to write this blog I had a specific idea in mind: to share my experiences traveling in New Zealand. I wanted to not only share facts, but also things I noticed, things I liked, things I didn’t like. I’ve been pleased with the results so far and hope you have been enjoying it as well.
I knew there was a chance that it might cause some reflection about other things and, frankly, am surprised that that hasn’t happened until today. So today’s blog is actually in two parts: The first part is my usual sharing of the day’s activities. In the second part I’m going to share some things that came up during the day’s activities. I’m going to label the two sections because you, very reasonably, may not be interested in reading about my reflections and that is a perfectly reasonable reaction. So feel free to peel off after the first section. Seriously, I won’t mind (indeed, I’ll have no idea that you did).
The day
The major activity of the day was a major hike, a total of 9 miles from the time we left our accommodations (by foot) to the time we got back. It was the Mount John Summit Circle Track and it was challenging. As I said it was 9 miles with a 984 elevation gain. Ok, in all fairness that really isn’t that much AND I was already pretty tired from all the other activities we have been doing plus all the driving (I’m doing quite well with the driving AND it still takes a lot of concentration for me. There were some stunning views of Lake Tekapo which was an amazing color. Unfortunately, it didn’t photograph accurately. I’ve noticed that when taking pictures with my iPhone often the colors aren’t accurate. I’ll have to do some research to see if there is a way to adjust the camera settings to make the colors more true (or if any of you know how to do this, please tell me and save me the research). Between the inaccurate colors and the difficulty in accessing the iPhone as a camera when I’m hiking and using poles, I am seriously considering using an honest to g!d camera that I could wear around my neck. More on that at some other time.
As mentioned I’ve been hiking using poles. My knees have been bothering me a bit and using poles makes it much easier to do the hike. I enjoyed hiking, enjoyed the hike, and liked the sceanary, AND was really tired at the end of the hike, spending the rest of the night sitting on the couch and reading (the latest Stephanie Plumm novel which I enjoyed. Tomorrow we are going to Mt Cook for both a hike and a boat ride to the glaciers and I’m really looking forward to that.
Upon reflection…
I had two reactions to the hike which rather surprised me. The first one was “ho-hum, another hike with beautiful views of water and mountains. Big deal.” I’m not very happy with this attitude. It really did have beautiful views. And I found they really didn’t interest me. I’ve experienced this kind of attitude elsewhere. For example I find that I now have about a two hour attention span for museums. I just can’t stay engaged longer than two hours even at an exhibit that I’m really enjoying (including, although I didn’t mention it, the Nelson Classic Car Museum. After two hours I really was done.) This feels like a similar thing. It was hard to get excited about the views because they felt so similar to the ones I had already been experiencing. I don’t really like this attitude and need to think about it for future trips. Maybe break up hikes of a similar type to keep them fresh. I hated not being able to really enjoy the hike, indeed, my initial reactions after the hike when I was quite tired, and lackluster about what I saw, was not to go on the scheduled hike for the next day. Fortunately I did some research when we got home and decided to do it. I’m writing this at the end of the day that included the Mt Cook activities and (spoiler alert) both the activities were GREAT. More on that tomorrow.
My other reflection was about feeling tired after the hike and admitting that I had to use poles today. I’ve never been a really fat person and I’ve also never been a particularly fit person. Interestingly enough there is an advantage to that: I pretty much have always looked the same (slightly overweight (well, I like to think it is only slightly overweight) with decent stamina and no talent for any sport. As a result, as I’ve gotten older (more mature?) I haven’t lost the ability to do anything that I really loved doing. Indeed, I am doing more physical things then I ever did before. I am feeling it a bit more. This year I’ve had some wrist surgery (to remove a non-cancerous growth on a nerve) had some work done to help with swelling I’ve had in my left leg and am having a cancerous (but not serious) basil cell. My body is giving me some subtle hints that, while it appreciates my more active life style, it does require a little more TLC than it used to. To be clear, I’m not complaining, I’m not sad about what is going on and I sure as heck am not feeling “old.” I am, however, recognizing that there are things happening with my 67 year old body.
Max took up a collection to buy me an electric bike about two and one half years ago and I’ve been loving riding it. I’ve been using it a lot. And I had to come not terms with the fact that I am frequently passed by people younger than me on non-electric bikes as well as people older than me on non-electric bikes. I have a very good attitude towards these occurrences: I’m happy that these people are able to do so much and enjoy it. I’m also happy that I am out there biking and it really doesn’t matter that I am slower than others. The important thing is I’m out there. A similar thing happened today as many people passed me (not using poles) as I was climbing up hill using my poles. It felt a little off. I started to think poorly of myself. I recognized that we need a new designation for people like me (and at my age). There is no way I can classify myself as “young”. Yes I am young at heart and am very childlike (indeed, I’m proud of that) but I can’t claim to be young. I also don’t fit into the category of “middle aged” as I think it unlikely that I will live to be 134 (my younger friends are welcome to shove this blog entry in my face should I live that long and have enough mental facilities to both recognize them and remember I wrote this). I sure as hell am not “old” (especially since I keep moving the goal posts on how to define “old”). So what am I? “Upper middle age?” I don’t want any designation that sounds limiting or potentially depressing (“In the last third of my life”, for example). So I have a challenge for you (especially my friends who are so good with words (this means you, Joseph, Dana, Duncan, Jay, Jim, and others): help me find a good designation for this phase of life. The person who comes up with one gets the opportunity to write a guest blog entry here (I like to think that is a “prize”). Artem has told me that he thinks of me like Gandalf: timeless. I rather like that but don’t know if that counts.
I don’t plan on stopping the new activities I am enjoying so continue to plan hikes with me (Artem, Brian, Carol, Conor, Howard, Jay, Joseph, Max, Paul, Philip, Robin, and others) and continue to kayak (or boat) with me (Artem, Cathy, Jay, Jasmine, Joseph, Max, Robin, Steve, Stuart, Susan, Wendy and others). I may slow down, I may not go as far and I plan on doing them as long as I can (and I expect that to be a long time). And there are activities that I never did before which I will continue NOT to do (hang gliding, scuba diving, and more). I plan on following the excellent advice I gave Max when he went off to college (regarding my physical activity): “don’t be stupid.” I plan on pushing myself, I plan on using tools when I need to, and I plan on not being stupid and pushing beyond what my body is telling me it can do. That feels right. I will honor my body and my age, while continuing to be curious, grateful, joyful, playful and profoundly silly which honors the seven year old that perpetually lives inside me (thank you, Davy, you are a delight). I leave you with the words of a Pete Seeger song which inspired the title of this blog entry:
When I was young my slippers were red.
I could kick up heels right over my head.
Then I got older, my slippers were blue,
but sill I could dance the whole night through.
Now I’m still older, my slippers are black
I huff to the store, and I puff my way back.
But never you laugh, I don’t mind at all
I’d rather be huffing than not puff at all.
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