i picked up a hitchhiker

and he told me i wasn't really living

When you think of cowboys, you probably think of Texas. After living in Alaska, I know the real cowboys live there.

Alaskans experience life differently. It’s a lot like how Floridians will go night swimming with sharks and hug alligators on the golf course; Alaskans feed grizzly bears out of the family dog’s bowl and take their fresh newborns on 18 mile hikes.

I lived in Alaska for six months, and that felt like a lot of pressure to soak up everything it had to offer in such a short timeframe.

Nick and I had overlapping schedules, leaving us with limited time to explore. And I was terrified to explore Alaska alone. The mountains are breathtakingly beautiful, but they’re also ominous. And bears… and moose… and men… you get it.

On one of our few free days, we drove to one of our favorite spots to hike. While we were making our way to the top, a young guy waved at us aggressively while he sat on the truck-bed of his car. He looked like he needed help, so we pulled off to the side.

Nick asked him if everything was OK to which he replied, “For sure, just need a ride to the top of the mountain if you guys are cool with it.”

Turns out he was a mountain biker and did this all day. Just relied on strangers to drive him to the top of the mountain, biked down to the bottom, then repeated ‘til he was done for the day or got hurt.

Nick and I looked at each other wondering, will this get us killed? The guy offered to ride in our truck-bed, so I guess what was the worst that could happen.

We got to the top and watched in disbelief as he strapped on his helmet, got on the bike, then dropped off the side of the mountain. When I say ‘dropped’ I really mean it - that’s how steep this mountain was. I wondered how he would survive.

How is it that someone who flirts with death daily can feel more alive than the rest of us?

I thought about how the day before, I literally packed a knife and bear spray just to go on a short hike by myself. I couldn’t imagine living as fearless as hitchhiker man did.

My solo hike day. Yes, that’s a GoGo Squeeze next to the knife.

Ever since I was a child, I conditioned myself to be protected against any threat or danger, even if it was at the expense of staying inside and losing out on new experiences.

I’ve always wanted to do a cold plunge in the ocean but my brain puts out a ferocious warning: DANGER! What about the walk back to your car? You’ll freeze to death. What if you don’t even feel it was worth it? What if you die?

As Sabrina Carpenter once famously said, “I have a fun idea babe. Maybe let’s stay in inside! I know you’re craving some fresh air… but the ceiling fan is so nice!”

BUT I NEED FRESH AIR! I NEED THRILL! I NEED FUN! I want to have the cajones to hitch hike to the top of a mountain and bike down it, damn it!

I don’t think we were meant to operate under the ultra safe parameters that we do. At least, not all the time.

It’s easier to stay safe and comfortable, but I truly believe our soul pays for it.

Take going out with a new group of friends for example: Your stomach is riddled with anxiety beforehand, but then you end up having the time of your life.

Or when you dread going out in the cold to sled with your kids, but you end up forgetting about the cold entirely because of the good ‘ole trance called: FUN.

True fulfillment and joy requires a level of uncomfortability and risk. I don’t know the psychology behind it, but it feels like our mind throws a party when we survive things it tells us we won’t.

Something rattled inside me as I saw hitchhiker man take off on his bike; I knew I hadn’t been really living.

Here’s the truth: One day, my body will be unable to aid me in explorations of nature. One day, I will not have the freedom I have today to take risks. So from that day on, I chose to no longer sabotage opportunities that would one day be the memories I tell our kids about.

While I have the opportunity, I choose to live.