This weekend I was back in Amsterdam for the fourth time in a year to run the Amsterdam Marathon. The only problem was that I hadn’t trained. At all. I ran a lot in June, but then I spent the summer on the road. And though I wore out a pair of running shoes walking around stadiums, I hadn’t run more than 5-6 times with friends or just to see some of the towns. I am reasonably active though, so with a little help from my friend willpower (though he abandoned me for a stretch between 35 and 40 km) I pulled it off in a bit under five hours. Not an impressive time, but something I’m happy with considering the amount of preparation I put in.
Returning to work on Monday I was told just how foolhardy I was since three people had dropped dead running the Detroit Marathon the same day that I was pounding the pavement in Amsterdam. Of course at that fatality rate, the last 15 years of the Detroit Marathon has a lower fatality rate than commuting in the UK. The point is that much like you need to commute, you need to go out and enjoy life – which will always come with some risk. And personally, I’d much rather take that small risk than the risk of having a dull life. So if you’re thinking of doing something fairly ridiculous, might I recommend a major physical challenge. That’s adventure.
Today is blog action day and this years focus is climate change, so I’m doing my little bit. Hopefully climate change is on the mind of every traveler. We play a part in making climate change happen, and we also need to be aware of how the world is changing as we make our travel plans.
I’ve been on 24 flights this year – and that’s likely to get up to 30 by the end of the year. Heck, I’m flying tomorrow. Though it breaks my heart to say that I should travel less this coming year, I know that’s the biggest chunk of my carbon foot print and if I’m going to honestly do anything about climate change, then cutting back on the number of flights I take is the first step. So I’m going to to do even better than the 10:10 pledge to reduce my footprint by 10% in 2010. I’m going to cut my impact by at least 25%. I’m going to do this by trying to keep my number of flights down to around 15-20 in 2010, and ride my bike to and from work at least four days every week.
So what, my fellow intrepid travelers, are you going to do?
I think I have a different definition of the downsides of travel than lots of people. Check out of the new Titanic Awards blog, listing out some of the worst parts of travel. While agree that many of them suck – squat toilets, turbulent flights, and baggage handlers trashing luggage – there are fair number that are the type of thing I actually seek out while travelling.
For example, the video above is nominated as the world’s worst road. It looks nerve racking, but probably also good fun. Similarly, the worst commute is something I sought out while I was in Tokyo. I ended up a bit disappointed that even at rush hour in Shinjuku station in Tokyo I didn’t have a truely packed train. I guess that one person’s headache is another’s adventure.
Lane Wallace writes in The Atlantic about how adventure tourists having a good time together expose themselves to significant risks. A week ago I was musing about bonding power of risk, but it’s also good to look at it’s destructive power.
So first, there is the problem that Wallace highlights. There are certain variables that make you feel that your risk is actually less than it is. If you think you are in control, if you think that there is an expert or authority helping and protecting you, if you’re in a good mood, or if there is a group of people taking the risk with you, then you can easily forget how dangerous the situation is. The example I used for bonding is a perfect example. We we’re travelling as a group, so felt it wasn’t quite as dangerous as it actually was.
Digging back through the archives of Q4A, I find more evidence this theory on perceived risk. When discussing my need for a ski-helmet, I mentioned that when I’m happy and having fun I take on a greater level of risk. Case and point: as soon as I actually got to the slopes this winter I didn’t end up buying a helmet. I was having fun and the group I was with didn’t have helmets, so my perceived risk dropped.
The second problem is that taking risks is addicting. The rush you get can be addictive – literally from the dopamine boost you get when you take risks. There’s also the lifestyle addiction, you fall into the pastern and don’t really think to get out of it until you get into trouble.
All told, it’s a reminder that flirting with trouble is a joy and is a great way to make friends, you do have to keep your head up because the closer you get to trouble, the more likely you are to be reckless.
A few nights ago I was out for drinks with a friend of mine who began expounding about the joys of getting a drink with someone to forge the bonds of friendship. I disagree as I think that travelling is the best way to make friends. Not wanting contradict, I tried to build open the sentiment. Drinking together and travelling together both involve leaving your safe zone and taking risks together.
Once said shared risk, I couldn’t shake the feeling. That really is what drives bonding while you’re on the road. I’ve travelled with people in very safe environments and had a great time, but even a few months after the trip we had lost touch. On the other hand, when I’ve taken really risky trips with people we’ve built strong friendships.
For example, take the group with whom I rode through back trails in Senegal on shoddy bikes. We took on a great deal of risk together. We were short on water, didn’t know where we were going to sleep, and spent half our time fixing broken bikes. It was great. We can got months, or even years, without talking to each other and pick up like not a moment passed – all because of that one week. That’s the bonding that shared risk provides.
Sharing risks demands and creates trust. Whether drinking or travelling, you’re trusting the people around you in a situation that is a bit beyond your control.
Of course, this isn’t exactly a novel line of thought. There is a whole school of philosophy around risk – and they would say that I’ve sloppily lumped risk and uncertainty together here. And M. Scott Peck summed to the value of risk to forming bonds in The Road Less Traveled; “There can be no vulnerability without risk; there can be no community without vulnerability; there can be no peace, and ultimately no life, without community.” He may have written some crazy things, but I certainly agree with this bit.
