Show Notes
The jump
It is a hot summer’s day. The sparkling river below is enticing. You’d love to take the plunge. It would feel glorious in there – so much better than being stuck here, hot and bothered like everyone else. But rather than leaping in, you remain on the riverbank feeling nervous. Vulnerable.
You think to yourself, ‘What if it’s cold?’
You mop your brow and fret, ‘Oh, respectable people like me shouldn’t be doing stuff like this.’
You clutch tightly at the towel around your body, unwilling to let go and unleash your lily-white buttocks upon the world.
‘What will people think?’
They might laugh at you.
You summon up the will to dip your toe in the water.
‘There have to be easier things to do than this…’
Sure enough, the first step into the water is shockingly cold. (That never changes, by the way.)
‘I knew this was a terrible idea!’
You curse at yourself. The fun you imagined has been suffocated by the immediate discomfort and the worries in your mind. How much easier it would be to stay here where everybody else is.
You almost retreat. Your mind whirls with thoughts of the cold and embarrassment, not to mention the monsters surely lurking beneath the surface, ready to drag you down to your doom.
‘They were right all along!’ you cry, feeling very sorry for yourself.
You shiver with cold and fear and your buttocks wobble. The pebbles in front of you look sharp. The sun beats down and the water sparkles.
What happens next? Do you stay where you are – or will you jump?
You take one more little step. And somehow, somehow, you persuade yourself to persevere. Little by little, step by tiny step, tiptoeing and yelping, you inch deeper into the water. Eventually, you lose patience, probably about when the cold water reaches your crotch.
So you think ‘to hell with it’, and you launch forwards. That’s it: you’ve done it. One moment of committing, one small lunge across the point of no return. You’re in!
Gasp!
Shock!
Holy £*€%, it’s cold!
You emerge from under the water wide-eyed and shocked. You draw breath then whoop. And suddenly now you are splashing, grinning and hollering at all those timid souls on the riverbank. Look at them all, their towels clutched around their vulnerable bits. Dreaming of taking the plunge. Stewing and unhappy, unable to muster that one small step, that giant leap of faith. And look a little closer: they are not laughing at you. They are jealous!
‘Come on in,’ you yell. ‘It’s great once you’re in. Stop being such a wimp. All you gotta do is jump. Once you start, you won’t regret it… God, it feels wonderful in here.’
OVER TO YOU:
The idea of living adventurously reminds me of skinny dipping. What’s a comparative metaphor in your own life? What is your version of flinging off the towel of respectability and leaping in?
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What is The Doorstep Mile?
Would you like a more adventurous life?
Are you being held back by a lack of time or money? By fear, indecision, or a feeling of being selfish or an imposter?
Living adventurously is not about cycling around the world or rowing across an ocean.
Living adventurously is about the attitude you choose each day. It instils an enthusiasm to resurrect the boldness and curiosity that many of us lose as adults.
Whether at work or home, taking the first step to begin a new venture is daunting. If you dream of a big adventure, begin with a microadventure.
This is the Doorstep Mile, the hardest part of every journey.
The Doorstep Mile will reveal why you want to change direction, what’s stopping you, and how to build an adventurous spirit into your busy daily life.
Dream big, but start small.
Don’t yearn for the adventure of a lifetime. Begin a lifetime of living adventurously.
What would your future self advise you to do?
What would you do if you could not fail?
Is your to-do list urgent or important?
You will never simultaneously have enough time, money and mojo.
There are opportunities for adventure in your daily 5-to-9.
The hardest challenge is getting out the front door and beginning: the Doorstep Mile.
Alastair Humphreys, a National Geographic Adventurer of the Year, cycled around the world for four years but also schedules a monthly tree climb. He has crossed the Empty Quarter desert, rowed the Atlantic, walked a lap of the M25 and busked through Spain, despite being unable to play the violin.
‘The gospel of short, perspective-shifting bursts of travel closer to home.’ New York Times
‘A life-long adventurer.’ Financial Times
‘Upend your boring routine… it doesn't take much.’ Outside Magazine
Visit www.alastairhumphreys.com to listen to Alastair's podcast, sign up to his newsletter or read his other books.
@al_humphreys