Bobsled

This January I resolved to play outside more. It sounds like a lame challenge, I know. Actually, It sounds like I am trying to revert back to a childish behavior instead of pushing myself to be bigger and badder.

To be honest, I decided to play outside more because I needed more fresh air and exercise in my life than I was getting last fall, so I am now making time for aimless outdoor adventures.

Which is why I went bobsledding last weekend.

It sounded like a quaint Saturday afternoon activity until I saw a bobsled go by me at 80 miles per hour. Speed doesn’t seem that impressive when you’re in a car or train or plane because there’s no wind resistance, so it doesn’t feel that different whether you’re going 20 or 100 miles per hour. Not true with bobsledding.

Bobsleds do not have windshields. They also do not close in the back. They are not cushioned or equipped with airbags. You do not get strapped in to them. Overall, they have less safety features than a banana peel. What they do have is tracks on the bottom that look like wide, iron ice skate blades.

While waiting for my turn to get pushed onto an ice slope in a metal casket, I felt myself becoming my mom.
Mom doesn’t do things like bobsledding. She doesn’t go on theme-park rides. She does not jump off of cliffs into water. Besides cars, she does not drive motorized vehicles. She does not play contact sports. All in all, she does not get any thrill out of danger.

Since high school, I have slowly been collecting her fears. When I was nine, I would jump off of rock cliffs into water. Now, I don’t.

While I shivered in the cold at the “launching deck” for the bobsleds, I wished I had put my foot down (like mom would have) and refused to even consider going to an event like bobsledding.

When I got to the bottom, I was glad that I had done it. Picking up speed on a downward slope is always intoxicating. There’s no way to explain why going faster and faster and faster is fun. Also, I had conquered my fear of the bobsled. I had completed an outdoor activity that wasn’t physically straining, but still hard. I had overcome my mom instinct.

This post is not intended as an anti-mom. It’s an anti-irrational fear post. My mom has already made up her mind about activities she would like to do and activities she would not. There’s nothing wrong with that, and if you’ve ever met my mom, you would know that she’s not changing her mind anyways.

What I’m hoping to do is prevent myself from limiting the things I chose to do, so that I won’t have to fear bobsledding and contact sports in the future. Jumping off of high cliffs into water is already out of the question for me, so now is the window of time when I decide what it is I will do.