Dena J - 8/08/08
We left camp at 9:30 in the morning and arrived at our destination at 3:30 in the afternoon. In that time we got lost and had to backtrack up hill for about 30 minutes. Well you see I'm sitting here under my tarp with the ground slanted and my ankles burning, thinking about the mileage of growth.
The first words written in my journal for Outward Bound are, "Even my posture has changed." Life wasn't bad before Outward Bound. I had great friends, a supportive family and a successful academic career. So charmed by adventurous and romantic books, I desired more than what my linear life had to offer. All those transcendentalists, hikes in hometown Asheville and pictures of far off places, prompted my desire to pop my peripheral bubble and experience what I could from the world. Although the promise of adventure drew me in, the main thing about Outward Bound that hooked me was the idea that I could go out into nature to find out what I'm all about. Instead of feeling bound by my environment and the expectations that stifle life, I decided that the best thing for my character would be to bust outside. It seems so ideal that some people carry all of their personal belongings and life supplies on their backs from day to day, but this is where the challenge comes in. Starting from square one meant reanalyzing my personality and redefining the limiting boundaries that had been placed in my mind. Before Outward Bound, I typically placed myself in the category of shy. I would tell my friends that it took me about a year to feel comfortable enough around a person to really 'be myself.' How do you break free of an established pattern? Get as far away as possible and make changes. Besides adapting to the lifestyle of 'no deodorant, no showers, no central heating, no meat,' I also was in a place of no known friends. Soon though, I felt cozy in my tarp and with my crew. Every night we discussed how that day might have affected us. One by one we recounted emotions that might have usually been quieted.
Somehow hiking six miles a day while carrying a 50 pound backpack didn't break my back, rather it gave me a spine. On the last day of my excursion into the wilderness, we had a personal challenge event. It was an 11 mile run that began at five in the morning and lasted not quite long enough. Although I ran track my eighth and ninth grade years, I never enjoyed running much, because it was just a painful chore. This run was great though. I began towards the back and made my way to last place on the first hill. At the top I decided not to stop running, and so I didn't. At first my slow jog kept me at the pace of the girls in front of me who would walk and then run to keep ahead. Somewhere in there I passed them. My feet fell asleep, but my mind awakened. I encouraged those consumed by pain and made conversation with fellow runners who I might never have gotten a chance to meet. I have never been more proud of myself in my whole life.
The first time I rock climbed I couldn't help but cry; for fear that I might fall, for shame that it didn't come naturally. When I came down, all I wanted to do was conquer the rock. After receiving hugs from my tarp mates, I went up the rock for the second time. From the top, I saw, for the first time since going out into the wilderness, the world from another perspective. We had been shaded by trees, and now, viewing the panoramic landscape, I marveled at it all. For the first time, I was an optimist. The day before I set out into the wilderness I had asked my parents, "What did I get myself into?" Now I look back with no regrets, and I realize that my capabilities are not even bounded by expectation. This is the hope I bring to the college experience: In venturing off into the unknown, there becomes a vast expanse of unlimited possibility.
