This past weekend Adam and I went white water rafting in Central OR. I'd jumped on a 50% off Groupon (if you don't already receive Groupon emails, then you need to sign up for that ASAP!) for a full day of white water rafting earlier in the summer, and last weekend was finally our chance to cash in our tickets.
The weekend was everything it was supposed to be. Camping, nights by the fire, a chance to meet up with an old friend, exhilarating white water rafting, cocktails in late afternoon sunlight sitting along the Deschutes, suntans, laughter, terrifying shrieks as the boat plunged into another rapid, waking to the sound of a babbling river, perfection.
Even more enjoyable though than the weekend itself was the realization Adam and I had while sitting next to the Deschutes, cocktail in hand, reflecting on our day on the water.
Our boat consisted of a guide, Adam and I, and five strangers. Three of which were entirely unmemorable, and two that will probably continue to stick with Adam and I for quite some time.
In our boat was a couple, I'm guessing in their late 60's, early 70's. When I first spotted them, I assumed they were the parents of the 20 something couple also in our boat. And I wont lie to you, I thought to myself, Great. A bunch of stodgy old people who are going to be all weird about getting wet.
The first go round of 8 miles the older couple sat in the very back. The dry spot in the raft and I couldn't help but think to myself, TYPICAL. Yes, I was falling back on good o'l ageism and being an asshole.
But then on our second go round, after we'd been loaded up in a school bus and our nearly toothless driver Dave dropped us off at our second put in in the river, the older couple said they wanted to sit in the front. The place Adam and I had just been sitting in that most closely resembles the Sea World splash zone. Freezing cold, most likely to be thrown out of the boat, thrill zone.
Adam and I exchanged glances.
Throughout the next five miles of river I was absolutely blown away. After each rapid, after each instance of being hit with a wall of FREEZING cold water, of being nearly thrown out of the boat on multiple occasions, both the woman and the man would look back at the rest of the boat, smiling from ear to ear, screaming, high fiving, and literally out of their minds loving every moment of the splash zone.
They were completely and totally alive.
Everything I had thought about them was a lie.
For the remainder of the trip they hooted and hollered, they whooped and screamed as our boat slammed into waves sideways and nearly filled our boat to the top with frigged water. They grabbed each others hands in celebration and paddled their hearts out. These people who I assumed would be more at home at a wine tasting, who came off as so out of their element in the first half were suddenly transformed.
They weren't with their younger adventurous kids. They weren't placating a crazy family member, they weren't trying something crazy and finding out they hated it. They were all in.
As Adam and I sat in our chairs looking at the river that night, sunburnt, tired, and still giddy with the day we kept going back to the couple. How happy they were, how exhilarated, how unusual and spontaneous, and how badly we wanted to be those people.
We made a pact to do more of these things. To spend less time worrying about the bills, and the house repairs, to be responsible, but to make more time for life. To remember that always saying, "next time, next summer, next weekend, next paycheck," means most times opportunities simply slip away.
This weekend was expensive. There's no denying it. But the memories we made, camping, rafting, relaxing was worth the fact that this week we're eating hot dogs for dinner and spending the weekend at home.
We could have sat at home last weekend. Spent very little money, watched tv, cleaned the house, walked the dog. But we would have missed out on this.
And we never would have met the couple who opened our eyes and reminded us to take advantage of every single moment we have.
I will never forget the look of that woman's face. Recently hit with a wave of water that nearly knocked her out of the boat. Her husband has grabbed her arm at the last second, dragging her tiny little body back into the raft and she's landed in the bottom of the boat in a wet heap. She's literally drenched beyond an inch of her life and she's laughing so intoxicatingly loud. She looks back at the rest of the boat, overflowing with giggles with the worlds most brilliant smile, wide open, and before we know it we're all screaming and laughing with her.
I've never seen someone so completely and utterly energized in my entire life.
As someone who is a natural introvert, someone who sometimes feels completely captive by my anxiety and fear of change, it takes meeting someone like her to remind me how easily I am able to hinder my own life if I'm not careful. How in a moment I can allow my anxiety to literally steal experiences such as these away from me.
I wish more than anything in this world that I could tell her how much she's inspired me.
Ashley, the Accidental Olympian
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