• Posted on:July 30th, 2008
• Comments:3 Comments
• Category:Small Steps

I have grown up around water my entire life. My family comes from a long line of fishermen, boaters, waterskiers, and the like. Both sides of the family have spent many a summer at a cottage near or on a lake. When I was a kid, I passed boating safety class and had a license to captain the family fishing boat. We fished, swam, and rode the waves every day during the long summers on the lake. I have many fond memories of those days.

But having said that, I must tell you that I am not a water person in a way that I love being IN THE WATER. I enjoy being in vessels designed to take you on the water, YET KEEP YOU DRY.

The truth is I have a slight fear of what comes out of the water, man-eating fish and seaweed which sole purpose is to entangle around your unsuspecting legs and drag you down to the depths, never to resurface. I know that people tell me there are no sharks in Lake Superior, but how can you really be sure?

[SIDENOTE: The origins of my fear of water, fish, and drowning would fill up an entire blog, I'm sure. I'll spare you the details.]

No, I know that sharks only live in the ocean, which is why I refuse to swim in depths where sharks could swim up and go all Jaws on my ass. And don’t get me started about jellyfish. This is what happens when you get cable TV.

A friend of ours has a beautiful place on the Portage Canal, complete with a waterski/fishing boat. We’ve been out on a few occasions to ski, eat, and drink a lot of beer, not necessarily in that order. I was a little hesitant at first, since skiing is not really my thing. However, I hearkened back to younger and skinnier times, specifically the first time I waterskied in the eighth grade. We were on a church youth retreat weekend and of all the girls, I was the only one who was able to get out of the water, and have maintained those bragging rights (of course!). Since that day, I skied a couple of times behind my dad’s boat, but nothing regular and certainly not within the last 20 years.

A few weeks ago I went out for the first time and on the first try pulled out of the water with no problem on two skis. I am convinced that the only reason this was even possible was due to a smidgen of natural athletic ability I am fortunate to possess, despite all of the ways I seem to try to sabotage my body on a daily basis. Our driver, who is a phenomenal skier, flew around with an athleticism and grace that I haven’t seen in a long time — maybe in photographs, but rarely in person.

This time out, being a little overconfident in a boat of fabulous skiers (Scott, Mr. I’m Good At Everything) I decided to give slalom business a try, even though the whole positioning one foot in front of the other seems totally awkward and so unnatural. The plan was to start out on two and drop one on the pass by the house (so the ski would be easy to spot). I had seen Scott do this multiple times, and everyone assured me the ski would just fall off my elfish feet.

This was a great plan, except for the fact that by the time we made the turn I was already tired (skiing is hard work, dammit), and had no clue what I was going to do with my foot, were I even able to drop the ski in the first place.

I successfully dropped the first ski and started to panic while searching for the place for my back foot, lost my balance, and won the award for Worst Hydro-Face Plant Ever While Going at least 25 MPH. Luckily, the ski had launched off my foot behind me; water is a little kinder to the face than a fiberglass ski. The fall had enough force to unzip the life vest thingy I was wearing, which I didn’t realize until I climbed back into the boat (um, no, I didn’t go for another try that time around). It was also at this point when I looked down to see, to my horror, that I was practically falling out of the bathing suit. Why, hello almost obscene cleavage!

I haven’t given up on the slalom ski thing quite yet, and even though I know it will probably take multiple face plants before I can get it, I’ll suck it up and give it a shot the next time I am out. Honestly, I was most concerned with biting the dust and swallowing gallons of water, but even falling face first, it didn’t happen. Also to my surprise, I didn’t lose a leg to a 50″ Northern Pike or other freaky creature (though I did keep my legs moving to hopefully discourage anything from wanting to nibble away at my toes).

Taking a chance and doing something like trying to drop a ski and biting it might seem insignificant, but I don’t want to get to the end of my life, whenever that might be, and have a list of things I haven’t tried. Am I going to get to do EVERYTHING my heart desires? Probably not. But the things I can do? I’m sure as hell gonna try.

I know I blogged the video a few days ago, but I can’t help but think of this speech, especially when a lot of things in my life are uncertain. I feel like I’m on the verge of…something. And I’m not really sure what it is. And some days that is so scary that it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “no” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
- [source: Steve Jobs' Commencement Speech, Stanford, 2005]

So I’m going to keep skiing despite my phobias about open bodies of water. And I’m going to keep running (or attempting to run) marathons, because I think it’s essential that we push ourselves to the point where we think nothing else is possible, only to find that we were capable of more than we could have imagined. When I look back on my life thus far, I know I’ve made more mistakes than I can attempt to count, failed people in unimaginable ways, and been on the giving and receiving end of doomed relationships.

Even so, I’m not going to be afraid to try, or give, or love. That’s a lot scarier than dipping my toes in a lake, but Steve’s right; there’s no reason not to dive in head first, scary depths of the unknown be damned.