Norm told me to Be In It. A well-known brand urges me to Just Do It (or as my mum prefers, JFDI). This life thing can be a risky business!
We’ve had some reminders of this over the last month. A small(ish) spill on a hike that resulted in a Flamingo in an exciting ambulance ride. A larger fall while gardening that will keep another of the Flock off the trail for far longer than ideal. Aches and pains that make some of us (ok, it’s me) groan when we get out of bed until the muscles have been soothed and stretched and revived. And a smashing headache that is the direct result of failing to take my own advice and drink plenty, take the hydralite, then drink more. All these are the result of saying yes, let’s give it a go.
These recent hits have brought the concept of taking calculated risks into our chat. If there’s one thing we agree on, it’s that we would much rather go and take life by the horns and live it than hide away safely. Missing the adventure is simply not an option. Cotton wool might protect us from the possible side-effects of being in the thick of things but, gee, safe would be a sad and boring existence.
I avoided risk for far more years than were probably good for me (I’m a learner but slow…) and risky things still terrify me. No, it’s not that I hate being wrong (as if that could happen! 😉). I’ve got some deep rooted fear of making a mistake that is stronger than nearly any other emotion that falls upon me.
Yet, it’s strange, because that is NOT how I was brought up. Having a go was the expectation, the practice, and the way of life. Mistakes and injuries were just byproducts you stepped on and incorporated into your approach as you moved forward.
I played netball. On asphalt. Twisted ankles, bruised fingers, skinned and bleeding knees were all common outcomes. A knee injury cut my netball career short and I can still remember the moment it happened. I won the ball from my opponent despite his height and speed. Winner.
There were a few years when we rode horses and I fell off on a regular basis (usually on my head). Thank goodness for helmets.
I travelled overseas on exchange and had no contact with my family other than mailed aerogrammes and a phone call at Christmas (normal). I made some embarrassing mistakes and learned a lot the hard way. What I remember is the gorgeousness of a German winter and Christmas, the culture and the love of a family that became mine despite my clumsy efforts to work out how to fit in.
I was ‘politely reminded’ this week that my beliefs came from a survivalist perspective. For those who are also unfamiliar with this one, the survivalist view on life is, apparently, quite common in Gen X-ers. Richard Glover wrote about it in his book (well worth reading) and stories are coming to light every day about what happened to those who didn’t make it through what were, for me, heady childhood years of free roaming independence.
OK. I get it. I know it wasn’t universally blissful. Hell, it wasn’t even unendingly blissful for me, and I had as near to a perfect childhood as one could wish for. That said… Me and cotton wool are not going to get to know one another better anytime soon.
Don’t be foolish, for goodness sake! There are some sensible precautions that can reduce risky to
We’ll continue to step out onto the trail every weekend and pray that the weather is kind, that the snakes stay hidden and, fingers crossed, that we all step off the trail at the end of the day bearing only a touch of the sun and muscles aching from over use and a lack of pre and post hike stretching. We know it’s a bit risky and that accidents can happen. It’s an accepted part of the gig. Each of us carries a pouch of First Aid items, a large supply of water, snacks, hydralite. We check the forecast and we dress accordingly. Hiking poles reduce ankle injuries (haven’t hurt one since I started using them and the number of times I’ve tripped and fallen off the side of seemingly flat paths has not reduced 🤦♀️).
Does this guarantee our safety. Nope. What it does do is comfort us and our loved ones at home that we are as prepared as we can be to prevent issues AND respond to any that arise.
Our recent unplanned meeting with the SES was at the same time unwanted and as good as it gets. We had the First Aid gear to make our patient safe. We had the know-how to make the most of our resources and get the help we needed. And we had all the humour we could muster to make what was a medical emergency into the basis for hilarity that already leaves us in tears of laughter in the retelling.
Our patient is back on her feet, battered and bruised and raving about how amazing the hikes were on that trip (except for the last bit, obviously). She’s ready to hit the trail the moment she’s cleared to lace up her boots. While she would much rather have avoided the issue altogether she knows life throws curveballs. This one definitely left some scars. She’ll be back.
Our gardener has ruefully revised her ‘risk profile’ and identified a few extra things she might do to curb the possibility of a repeat event. That’s what you do when something goes awry. You review the event, identify the causal factors and, while putting your energy into rehab, work through what you can do to avoid that situation happening again. You put those strategies into place. And then you pull on your gloves, head back out into the yard and keep on creating your dream garden.
Mum’s voice has been in my head as we turn big dreams into audacious goals. We know that there are going to be costs incurred, financial and emotional and, just maybe, physical, so we’re working our way through all the insurance we can to minimise those risks as much as we can. But nothing will erase the risky side of the business. The only thing that would do that is to stay at home. Nope. Not happening.
What kind of risk do you knowingly accept in your life? What do you do to mitigate it in some way? And what have you decided is too risky for you?