Hey American West, Can You Chill The F*** Out?
Recently, I’ve had a few conversations with some friends. We talked about what needs to change in the outdoor community and industry to make it more approachable for those outside of it. And it came down to this - if we can make it less about miles, mountaintops, climbing grades, and more about the healing parts of the outdoors, more people would see it as an option for them.
When I lived in New England, we went up to New Hampshire’s White Mountains every weekend. We hiked the mountains, we climbed the rocks, we camped and sat around the fire, we floated on the rivers. And on each hike we went on, it felt like home. It felt hard yet achievable. While many of the people on the trails up there were ‘experienced,’ there were also so many people going on their first hikes, learning all the things that newbies learn. Everyone says hi, a real sense of community.
I would go back to my office job in Boston during the week and talk about what I had done over the weekend. And I mostly received shock and awe from my coworkers. It often felt like they had no idea what I was talking about, but were excited for me all the same. Excited that I was making the most of my limited time on the weekends to go do what I love. They never asked me what grades I climbed, or how fast I hiked a mountain. It was always just about getting up north, into nature.
When I moved to Boulder, I immediately felt like I had no experience at all. Like I was the lowest on the outdoor athlete (could I even call myself an ‘athlete’?) totem pole. Yes, I know, I moved to a Mecca for outdoor athletes, where many thrive and strive to be the best. And don’t get me wrong, I like to push myself. I like to train for races or climbing, I like to see what my body can do. But our conversations went from, ‘we went up and got out into nature this weekend’ to ‘what did you climb? Where did you ski? How far did you go?’ I had thought that once I moved here, I would become this ultra mountain woman who brought none of her old fears and thoughts with her. I was naïve.
I felt so dejected when I first moved to Colorado. It seemed that everyone was faster, slimmer, stronger than I was. I fancied myself an experienced outdoors woman when I moved to the American West, but when I finally got deeper into the culture here, I felt so bad about myself. I didn’t think that I would ever fit in. I wanted to be this badass lady outdoor superhero send-machine that I kept seeing on the trails and on my Instagram. I didn’t know where I fit in if I wasn’t the fastest, fittest person on the trail.
It took me a while to realize that, I didn’t have to listen to anyone around me (see: most obvious realization ever). I like to go outside for me, for my mind, for my legs, my dogs happy face as she runs with reckless abandon. With climbing, I felt a lot of pressure to learn how to lead, to not be scared, to chase grades. And there was a moment earlier this year when I thought to myself ‘I don’t want to.’ WHAT?! What a powerful statement. I like climbing in the gym and top roping some stuff outside. I like the movement of the body in climbing but you know what? I’m so terrified of leading and I’ve tried for years to get over it. Maybe someday I will, but also, who fucking cares? I’m taking what I like from the sport and leaving the rest behind.
With trail running, I kept seeing all these people on Strava with insanely fast paces. How the hell did they go so fast over roots and rocks and gravel? It was a constant comparison game. And while I think FKTs (fastest known times) are impressive and interesting, I knew that wasn’t going to be for me. I am slow as hell. I’ve tried to get faster, and I’m sure I can train harder to get there. Again, maybe one day I will. But right now, I get stoked on just getting my legs moving and flying through Aspen groves and rounding a corner just to be face to face with a deer on the trail. I like the burning in my muscles and I like to hike up the hard stuff and just run downhill. Does that make me any less of a trail runner? Hell, no.
Listen, I’m not saying I want people to stop trying hard. I want people to do what works best for them, and if you’re an outdoor athlete that likes to push the limits, good for you. I am impressed and stoked for you. But I would just invite you to pull yourself up out of that so that others can feel like the places you play are open to them too. I want everyone to feel like they can go outside and take in fresh air. So if your overall vibe is not allowing others to feel comfortable going outside, then I just have a question for you - can you chill the fuck out? It’s just an outdoor sport. You are not curing cancer, this shit ain’t that deep.
