I have never been particularly outdoorsy. Actually, that's an understatement. I hate camping. I hate it more than almost anything else in the world. The last time I was talked into camping, a bear popped out of a tree fifteen feet in front of me. I lay awake the whole night waiting for death by mammal. The most athletic experience of my whole life was running out the woods the following day, scanning the trees for predators. Which brings me to the next point: I have never been particularly athletic. A friend of mine freshman year of college once said that seeing me in athletic gear was like seeing a fish in a tuxedo.
Sure, since then I've learned to love working out, preferably if I can make myself look like an uncoordinated idiot in the process (New York City Ballet Workout, anyone?). But I've never had any particular goal in mind. It's mostly just been a way to stay healthy and to justify my avid consumption of soft cheeses (they're a source of vegetarian protein!). And the outdoors were always a great place to see animals in the wild, which I love (as long as they're not ninja bears descending from above). But other than that, I'd just as soon skip the dirt, sweat, heat, cold, rain, and bugs. That is, until now.
Panama has triggered a mini-identity crisis. It started because I was completely obsessed with seeing a three-toed sloth in the wild. I swear I was more driven to see a wild sloth than Napoleon was to conquer Europe. So I took a rainforest boat tour (pictures in an earlier post). And naturally, there was a downpour. Of course, I got soaked. When I stood up, a small ocean poured out of my shoes and socks. Did I find this annoying or unpleasant? No. I thought it was hilarious. This was the first sign.
Next, I woke up one morning and thought, "Hey, it seems like a nice day for running along the bay." In 93 degree heat and 100% humidity. As a rule, I do not run outside. I prefer to know exactly how far I've gone (down to the hundreth of a mile), and honestly, I look like a cherry tomato with a ponytail while exercising, and the less people who see that the better. But on this particular day, it seemed like a great idea. And I enjoyed it. Despite having a face the color of baboon's ass.
But I think the moment I really realized how far my identity crisis had gone was when a coworker invited me to go on a 15k hike in the mountains. Now, obviously, outdoorsy or not, you have to appreciate the beauty of the rainforest in Panama, so this should hold at least some appeal for everyone. But still, at least half of that was going to be uphill. With a very good chance of pouring rain. And huge jungle insects. I'm sure that several months ago I'd still have gone, but I'd have been at least a little nervous. This time? Not at all. I was ecstatic. I couldn't get there fast enough. And sure enough, there was rain, and the whole trail was wet and slippery. If you could call it a trail. I fell down not once, but three times in what can only be described as a mud chute. I was caked head to toe in dirt, sweat, rain, and small bits of shrubbery. It was, in a word, awesome.
Yes, that's right, it was awesome. In fact, I liked it so much that I decided, why not do something like that again when I get home? (And by "something like that" I mean something in which I will get absolutely filthy.) It is that question which led to me waking up at 6:30 this morning, putting on my conspicuously American New York Giants cap, and going for a 5k run on the Cinta Costera. All in order to train for something called The Down and Dirty Mud Run, a 5k race with obstacles, where you fling yourself into a mud pit before crossing the finish line. I am starting to become concerned that I may, in fact, be a pod person.
But then again, isn't this why I travel in the first place? Ok, this is a bit more extreme than learning to make cherry soup in Budapest. But it's also not quite as big a deal as when I fell so madly in love with India that it gave me a much-needed idea for a career. For me the whole point of travel is to explore something new, learn something new, try something new. Sometimes this is serious business. The things you learn while traveling can change your whole perspective on the world. But sometimes, it's nice to stop taking things so seriously and just have fun. In Panama, I've learned to love the dirt.
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