It’s funny the things we remember in life — what sticks and what doesn’t.
All those years in school trying to commit things to memory. So many times it felt hard for me, like my brain had some sort of natural resistance to retaining information. Still, I managed. I crammed things in long enough to pass a test or ace a class, but if you ask me about it now, I can’t remember half of it.
Then there are random things that stick with ease. They seem to stay in my brain forever without me even trying. I remember going out to eat with my family as a kid and feeling sad because I ordered from the kids’ menu instead of the regular grown-up menu. I remember my dad sensing my feelings and being sympathetic to them. I remember church corn roasts and pool parties, doing a backflip off the diving board and nearly scraping my nose on the way down. I remember going to work with my dad and riding my bike at the job site, but being afraid of a looming thunderstorm. I remember my Uncle Dale and hot dogs with mustard. And maybe, just maybe, I remember puppy races in Kenya.
It’s funny how these things stay ingrained in our brains. They seem so random, even insignificant, yet there they are. I’ve forgotten many of the chemistry lessons, mathematical equations, and historical facts that moved in and out of my brain like conveyor belt sushi. But these seemingly insignificant yet emotionally charged moments stuck like glue.
Hero Snow
Just the other day, I was doing some ski training on Mount Bachelor in Oregon when one such random memory popped into my head. When I ski, I’m a sucker for hero snow, the sort of snow that makes you feel like a better skier than you are. It’s soft, forgiving, playful, and fun. It could be that glorious spring corn or mid-winter powder. Either one can do the trick.
On this particular day, I was doing laps above tree line, soaking up the thin air and basking in the soft, spring snow. Though conditions were quite good, I noted that the snow was getting a bit wavy, making things not quite as smooth and buttery as I preferred. As I descended a different line for my final lap of the day, a thought popped into my head. I remembered my younger sister, Ashley.
A photo taken while skiing laps of Oregon’s Mount Bachelor. Photo: Zach Miller
Braving Rough Waters
For a few years growing up, our family had a boat. In the summer, we’d take it to the river and go water skiing. The river in which we would ski had some islands in it, and sometimes we’d drive the boat upstream and ski between them. I liked skiing here because the water was a bit calmer. On good days, it was as smooth as glass. It was hero snow in liquid form, and I loved it.
Ashley, on the other hand, preferred the choppy waters. This seemed odd to me. Why would you want to ski all that chunk? As I skied down the mountain that day, I remembered this about my sister and thought about what her preference might suggest. Maybe Ashley just likes a challenge. This could be. She has certainly taken on some big things in life: going toe-to-toe with a bear while serving as a hiking guide in college, being a top-notch caretaker at Barr Camp in Colorado, and most recently, raising three young boys back home in Pennsylvania.
Whatever the reason, I felt a bit inspired that day. Inspired to not always take the easy line in life, but to embrace adventure, explore the unknown, and find the bits of gold that I might miss by always sticking to what is smooth, familiar, and safe.
It made me think of a podcast I had recently listened to with Rich Roll and Alex Hutchinson. The episode was titled “The Explorer’s Gene: Alex Hutchinson on Humanity’s Drive to Seek the Unknown, The Science of Uncertainty, And Why Effort Creates Meaning.” Now, I’m not a huge podcast guy, but a friend sent me this one and I found it to be very interesting. In the podcast, Alex talks about a study that was done on people’s food ordering habits. What the study discovered was that although exploring new options for food is a risk in the short term, in the long term it leads to a higher level of satisfaction as people discover places that are better than what they currently know. Sure, they find a few duds along the way, but in the end, they end up with a better collection of good places to eat.
As I skied down the mountain that day, I thought about this podcast and my sister’s affinity with rough waters. It inspired me to be adventurous and not always take the path that I know to be good, because while the known path will likely still be good, I’d miss out on the chance to find anything better.
The author on an old reliable running route at Barr Camp in Colorado with friends, Peter Maksimow and Brandon Stapanowich. Photo: Peter Maksimow
Recently, I’ve done just that. I saw a friend run in an area that I hadn’t explored before, and I gave it a shot. Not surprisingly, it turned out great. I also had a number of days in which I ran the same old route again and again, then chose to mix it up and had a wonderful time.
As I continue on in life, I hope I always make a point to do bit of exploring. Sure, I still have room for old standbys, there is something great about the familiar. But, I don’t want to get stuck between the islands, glued to the same old ski line, and have standing orders at the same three restaurants in town. There is a place for that, but not every day. There’s got to be room for more.
Call for Comments
How brave are you when it comes to deviating from your usual and trying new things?
The author’s bus parked at a newly discovered camping spot, at the foot of a newly discovered trail. Photo: Zach Miller
