Embracing Eighty

            Too often, people in my demographic bemoan an approaching birthday as further evidence that we are 'over the hill'. I know I am an annoyingly cheerful optimist, but really? Isn't each additional year something to celebrate, proof we are still here, still witness to the fascinating drama of existence?

            I have long passed the seventy-year milestone, which many people view as the tipping point into frail old age. Too often, the news commentator assumes a soft, patronizing tone to describe an elderly person who has had some mishap. Then the report reveals that the person is seventy-two years old. What! I think, seventy two isn't elderly. Well, it better not be, since I am now seventy-eight!

            Last year, I began a project called Embracing Eighty. I promised to sample eighty new activities outside my comfort zone before reaching that venerable age. I had a few items in mind, but I did not have a prescribed list. I left my options open to physical, intellectual or psychological challenges. I figured opportunities would arise and my goal, publicly announced on Facebook, would motivate me to embrace them.

            Steering a stand-up paddleboard was an early undertaking. My son-in-law, Sean, offered a lesson on a sheltered lake near Victoria. How hard can it be? It's just a flat plank sitting on calm water. I was so confident, I ignored his instructions. I climbed aboard and started to paddle. Whoa! It felt so tippy, I tensed every muscle to keep balanced, including core muscles I didn't know I had.

            Over-confidence subdued, I followed Sean across Thetis Lake to a secluded nook aglow with water lilies. It was smooth sailing while I kept my eyes rivetted to the tip of the board. At our destination I glanced at the glorious lilies. In a heartbeat, I found myself deep underwater. When Sean turned to speak to me, he saw the board and the paddle but no Nanna. In the watery depths he spied a turquoise circle slowly rising—my sunhat. Under it I was giggling as hard as I could without access to oxygen. Luckily, Thetis Lake is very warm in June. I clambered aboard with no damage done, except to my dignity. I learned not to prejudge the ease of a new activity.

            Fast forward past many experiences: scrambling through the caves at Horne Lake Provincial Park, sitting inside a Triceratops skull, learning several methods of firing glass, riding a dogsled through northern tundra, etc. My family cheered me on and I was having fun.

            When the pandemic closed attractions I was planning to try, my twelve-year-old grandson stepped up to keep the Embracing Eighty momentum alive. He offered to use his guest pass to lead me through the adventure courses at WildPlay, which had never been on my list of potential activities. Located in a forest, it was still open.

            “It's really easy, Nanna, and I'll help you!”   

            What could I say with that eager, freckled face smiling at me. “Uhhh...I'm scared of zip lines...okay...I'll try the easiest level.” 

            I completed the beginner circuit with flying colours. On to intermediate, where the challenges moved higher in the trees. My daughter's video recorded my grandson demonstrating each step while Nanna expended every ounce of strength to traverse the rope bridges between platforms. Turns out the zip lines were the easiest part of the course.

            I reached the end of intermediate level, out of breath, but still...it counted. The employee supervising our safety confided that his mother, twenty years younger than me, had needed a rescue halfway through intermediate. My Embracing Eighty project impressed him. “This is number thirty,” I boasted.

            Fueled with over-confidence, I climbed behind my grandson to the highest scaffold. The swinging and balancing acts between platforms became more demanding. Midway through the difficult course, my legs started wobbling, no strength left.

            “I don't like this!” I cried.

            “Do you want to be rescued?” shouted the supervisor from forty feet below.

            “No, I'll tough it out.” My grandson was calling encouragement from the landing ahead and  I didn't want to fail in full view of a twelve-year-old. A few rubbery steps further, my arms gave out and I collapsed miserably on the thin bar beneath my feet.

            “I want to be rescued.”

            The young man scooted up the ladder, across the cable and buckled me into a harness. “Consider this number thirty one,” he chuckled as he lowered me to the ground. With his blessing I experienced the rescue itself as another adventure.

            In retrospect I realize I did not fail the WildPlay challenge. I pushed myself to my limit, which was a feat to celebrate. The comments on Facebook proved I challenged expectations for my age group: “OMG, you're going to kill yourself!” and “The video was too scary to watch.” In fact it was totally safe. Each participant is tethered to a cable above. You may lose your footing but you will never fall. I temporarily forgot this safety feature when I faced my next WildPlay adventure.

            I was wondering what to do for number forty [the half-way point] when I got a telephone invitation from WildPlay: a free bungee jump 150 feet into the Nanaimo River canyon. My astonished mind raced. Absolutely not! Only crazy people launch themselves into an abyss upside down...on the other hand, it's free. After some discussion I agreed to the Primal Swing⸺basically a bungee jump where you and a partner sit upright, harnessed together. My daughter, equally afraid of heights, agreed to share the ride.

            With the doomsday date set, I did some research on their website. The free-fall looked terrifying with speeds of 140 kph. I lost a night's sleep to nightmares. My rational brain reframed a more positive outlook, so that on the drive to Nanaimo I was breathing normally. The admissions desk expected me—an old lady doing eighty new things.

             I trudged up the stairs to the narrow footbridge. Squeezing past the shirtless, tattooed young men waiting to bungee jump, I felt really old. That thought immediately morphed to: What am I doing here? Am I out of my mind? My daughter and I huddled together.

            Two cheerful employees spread harnesses for us to step into. My body went into high alert,  muscles tense, heart drumming, Then they said, “Wriggle forward and let your legs dangle over the edge.” I stopped breathing. The video showed my mouth open in a silent scream, but it was too late.

            We were in free-fall, rushing through air. My brain was too numb to feel fear. In the next instant our rope fully extended and we began a graceful pendulum swing deep within the canyon walls. I breathed again; in fact I laughed. My daughter and I congratulated ourselves. Easy-peasy! Lots of fun!

            Now I know there is nothing remotely dangerous about the Primal Swing—no opportunity to strain, stretch, or wrench any body parts. My friends still applaud my courage, swearing they could never do that. Really, it didn't require courage; it required embracing new assumptions on appropriate activities for my age.

            I think I'll go again and share the ride with my grandson.