Pushing Limits

 

Like so many around the world, I was awed by the persistence, endurance, and incredible human spirit exhibited by Diana Nyad in her 53-hour swim from Cuba to Florida.

Amazingly, after her long ordeal, Nyad still had the energy and mental awareness to inspire others. In spite of a swollen tongue and lacerations in her mouth from the salt and face guard she wore to avoid jellyfish stings, she managed to tell others to “never give up” and believe “you’re never to old to live your dreams.”

Now, I’m not much of a swimmer. I’ve always admired and never achieved that regular pace you see with serious swimmers – stroke, stroke, breathe on the left, stroke, stroke, breathe on the right – seemingly with so little effort. I’m strictly a breathe on the right type. And I know I waste a lot of energy when I swim.  My attempts at laps or long stretches never last long and inevitably result in undignified sputtering, jerkiness, and gasping for air.

But the idea of setting goals for yourself, pushing your limits, and following your passions – those are things that do resonate with me. Whether or not you achieve the goal isn’t even the point. It’s the path on which it launches you that matters. It’s the things you learn about yourself and the unexpected turns, embarrassments, and rewards that make it worthwhile.

Unlike Diana Nyad, no one would use the terms “extreme” or “athlete” to describe me. But I do like to be active. I’m pretty energetic and somewhat daring. And I’m not averse to pushing my limits from time to time. I find it liberating, in fact, since it requires shedding the burden of fear and going beyond the familiar.

Sometimes, it means taking on a big step, like the time I jumped off a cliff in Peru. I was strapped into a parasail harness, with a pilot behind me working all the controls. So, it wasn’t physically difficult. 

But it was a bold thing to do for someone as afraid of heights as I am. It was also an apt symbol for a new life chapter in a country where I had just arrived and didn’t speak the language, know anyone, or have any anchors. The flight was exhilarating. And the personal and professional outcomes of our 3 ½ years in Peru even greater than I could have anticipated.

The exhilaration

of jumping

off a cliff

But other times, it’s the seemingly small steps that take courage or resolve. 

Recently, I had to drive through some flooded roads in Lake Nakuru National Park. The water level is the highest any of the game wardens have seen.

Flooded waters and roads of Lake Nakuru

Many of the roads at Lake Nakuru are totally impassible at the moment. But we were on one that was only partially flooded. And the vehicles ahead of us were getting through. But I did have to grit my teeth and push myself to follow their lead. Unlike my husband, I’m not crazy about driving through rivers and flooded roads, even in a snorkel-equipped Land Cruiser. I’m not crazy about rickety bridges either, while we’re at it. And there’s my recent experience of being stuck in the mud for hours in a remote place surrounded by wild animals (see earlier blog: http://africagwinners.blogspot.com/2013/08/stuck-in-mud.html)  

But I did it. I did it, because sometimes you just have to. Sometimes, there’s just no turning back and, as Nyad suggests, you can’t give up - even with the small stuff.   

And that's the real secret of being inspired by a super achiever like Nyad. I don't aspire to great physical feats. I like to run, but hate to race. And I firmly believe that a bad run can still be an excellent walk - with no shame involved.

What really matters is that age isn't the obstacle, nor even physical endurance. It's the emotional resilience that pushes us beyond old limits. Nyad admits that emotional strength was an important part of her training and success - that, and singing old Beatles or Neil Young songs to herself to help pass the many boring hours of constant swimming.

Follow your dreams, she says. For me, living in Africa is indeed following my dreams. And as the Beatles would say, Tomorrow Never Knows, so:

Listen to the color of your dreams

It is not leaving, it is not leaving

So play the game "Existence" to the end

Of the beginning, of the beginning

On not losing my mind

 The other day, I met a group of new people in a professional situation. There came a point where I had to turn to one of them and say, “I’m sorry, can you remind me of your name again, please?”

I then made a conscious effort to repeat her name, and to hook it to something familiar – the face of another person I know by the same name – so I’d retain it.

But I have to ask. Wasn’t there a time when this was easier? When recalling names, memorizing phone numbers, or picking up a different language didn’t require such a conscious effort?

I think it was called youth – when hair was big, phones had cords, and tweeting was for birds.

These days, there’s lots of research on the chemistry, lesions, and other factors that affect brain health. Every several months or so, there’s a new report on the physiology of brain disease or deterioration – and the potential chemicals or treatments to prevent or reverse them. It must be fascinating work.

In the meantime, they say the best way to maintain a healthy brain is to have friends and social networks, undertake stimulating activities, exercise the body as well as the mind, and have a purpose in life. In fact, these activities are said to be so good for cognitive function, they can actually trump negative factors like depression or illness.

Now, what’s interesting about all this is that making friends, finding a place and purpose for oneself, being active and stimulated – these are exactly the challenges one faces as a tag-along expat spouse or partner.

A friend recently posted a link to a blog written by a woman who has been moving from country to country with her husband for 7 years. In Not just gin and tonics: Why it’s harder being an expat wife than you think, the author articulates well the trade-offs between the great advantages of living abroad (e.g., maids, manicures, many adventures, etc.) and the difficulties (e.g., language barriers, legal restrictions, loneliness, and especially, the lost sense of self).

Going abroad to study, travel, or work is one thing. Moving to a foreign land without those sorts of anchors is quite another. It requires fortitude, patience, and no small measure of creativity. You have to reinvent yourself. You have to face your fears. You have to deal with new customs, bureaucratic idiosyncrasies, and being taken advantage of.

Many cope by taking on volunteer projects, a new language, or a new sport. They join cooking classes, a club, or a gym. They meet fellow parents, dog lovers, and birdwatchers. They find themselves making friends with people they might otherwise have never met, or even liked.

I’ve been very lucky as the ex-pat tag-along wife.  The first 6 months in Peru were hard. But then I landed a really interesting job in an international organization. This meant I could work legally. And it opened up a whole new world of challenges, experiences, and adventures. I met amazing people. I learned a phenomenal amount of new things. I went on work trips ranging from India to Iowa, Beijing to Brasilia, Lake Titicaca to Kampala, and Rome to rural Kenya.

And of course, I totally benefited from the experience of living abroad with my family, discovering new places together, and learning things about ourselves as we took on new adventures.

Since arriving in Nairobi, I’ve been fortunate again to maintain one foot in the working world. Thanks to former contacts and international contracts, I’ve been plunged again into new topics and time zones.

We also knew people here before arriving, which made it far easier to develop a social circle.  In addition, there are lots of active networks and groups in Nairobi, offering great opportunities to discover the country, meet people, and cross-connect. The fact that one of the official languages of Kenya is English has been helpful, too.

In 4 ½ years, I’ve learned a lot about adjusting as a newly arrived expat and the efforts needed not to lose my sense of self. I’ve gotten better at meeting people, asking for help, and pushing my limits. I’ve developed a tolerance for mediocre movies (beggars can’t be choosers), a taste for gin and tonics, and a greater ability to get by.

Is my brain all the healthier as a result? Who knows?

Certainly my life has been made richer.

I’ve lived wonderful experiences. I’ve seen all sorts of African animals. I even remember their names.

If only I could do that with humans.