When I first embarked on my quest last year to climb 40 volcanoes by the age of 40, I was driven by the desire to challenge myself, push myself outside my comfort zone and find my full potential. Ultimately, I was in search of a new me, to find out who I really was and what I was capable of.
As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, the year and a half since I started this journey of self discovery has been a bit of a rollercoaster. The mental challenge to start and continue has been immense, and it’s been a shock and something of a revelation as to how my mind works and how much I doubt myself and my abilities. And that is incredibly depressing, which really just adds further fuel to the self-doubt fire, becoming a vicious cycle of self-doubt heaped on self-doubt. Continue reading
After writing my last post on being paralysed by fear, I was reminded by the boyfriend that four years ago I was s*** (his words) at camping.
|A previously successful camping adventure
Yes I remember that first experience with him well – a long weekend just outside Oxford. I had camped a couple of times before – nothing too strenuous and I’d survived.
So in my head this was going to be a lovely drive in the countryside, and a couple of nights, cocooned in a cosy, little tent while the stars twinkled above us. It was still the honeymoon phase of the relationship. Camping; I couldn’t think of anything more romantic.
Until we arrived. It was October – and that was the problem.
Right now I should be getting excited about what should be an impending trip to the tropical island paradise of Tenerife, one of the seven islands that make up the Canary Island archipelago off the west coast of Morocco. There, I was intending to make an ascent of volcano number two, Mt Teide, in my #40by40 quest.
But I’m not going.
Most people will have at some point wondered how they might react in a disaster situation. Secretly they hope they will be brave and strong, bringing down the bad guys Jack Reacher style or pulling out a killer MacGyver or Bear Grylls survival move.
I’d like to think I could be the same – despite my weak girl punches and distinct lack of military training. Unfortunately I’m a bit of a cry baby and scaredy cat, as my recent trip to Snowdonia verified.
I have a theory. Humans have become locked into a way of living, such that they no longer know who they really are.