Risk Taking

I was reminded today of a time long ago when I was in Cub Scouts. It was in the wintertime, and our scout pack decided to go to one of the local hills on the side of a mountain to do some sledding, a solid 200 yard race to the bottom. We had our sleds, some of us had hats, most lacked gloves or mittens, none had boots. In other words, we were fully prepared.

The sleds of course lacked any form of steering mechanism, save for a rope to hang on and your own appendages to act as ski poles and impromptu breaks. When you're 10, this is a great concept.

We began our sledding, and because of the height and slope of the hill, we were hitting escape velocity pretty quickly down the 1 mile raceway. We were also wiping out spectacularly. As in, Calvin & Hobbes, careening into their great unknown level of spectacular wipe-out.

I was riding tandem with my Scout buddy David, who was one of the more excitable fellows in the pack. However, we noticed that every time we went down the hill, we crashed. Hard. In fact, we had yet to make it to the bottom without crashing and getting a mouthful of snow. Wouldn't it be better if we managed to stay on the sled the whole way down and get the full experience?

On our next run, we vowed not to crash. As we tipped the sled over the precipice, we began chanting our mantra together:

"We won't tip over."
"We won't tip over."
"We won't tip over."
"We won't tip over."

We glided down the hill, staying perfectly balanced, digging our hands and feet into the snow when we had to in order to keep straight. We saw the sights and sounds of winter, the bite of cold on our pre-pubescent faces. By the time we reached the end of the hill and came to a rest, we realized we had done it - we had made the entire trip down the 3 mile mountain range and suffered not a one mishap. It was a nice ride to the bottom. Nice.

As we drove away that afternoon, frigid and soaked to the core from our numerous faceplants into the snow, the unspoken thought lingered. Out of all of our treks down the 6 mile central NY alps, why wasn't the one where we didn't crash, the best ride?

Sledding, like life, is not enjoyed most by remaining secure in a slow sleigh. It is the fear of falling that keeps you going back to the top of the mountain to try it again that means the most.