Fifteen days ago, I decided to do something I haven't done in my adult life. Ever. I decided to voluntarily take two weeks off from exercise of any kind. No cycling. No running. No skiing. No climbing. And, yes, no paddling. Nothing.
The reason is I just thought it would be good for me. Sort of like how some people do those two-week cleansing diets where they swear off sugar, caffeine, alcohol, etc. Except for me, it's exercise, which means I've spent no time in the outdoors, which means I've forgone my favorite things to do.
If you include bike-commuting, I typically spend 4-5 days a week in the outdoors, despite living in a part of the city that is not especially rife with the outdoorsy vibe. For a quick glance, read this recent story about our friendly neighborhood morale officers, the Westside Street Mobb.
Basically, at age 39, I pretty much have aches and pains from my lifestyle, and they don't seem to be getting any better. Mild athritis in my surgically repaired left angle, mild tendinitis in my left hip, deep pain in my left knee, and tendinitis in my right elbow. Part of my inspiration to take time off came while I was at the climbing gym. A friend came up to me and said he'd been diagnosed with a torn rotator cuff. Out for a month to rest and rehab it, and hopefully be OK after that.
My goal with this rest period was to get my body feeling better, and it does, a little bit. But the layoff also got me thinking about what life would be like without my beloved hobbies. I've never even ventured down that path before because I love what I do so much and I've always thought of it as the best way to spend my free time for the rest of my life. You know, to some day be the guy in his 70s who's still getting out there. I would never give it up.
I started wondering, though, what if it wasn't my choice? What if I'm gradually doing so much damage to my joints that some day (soon, a year from now, 10 years from now, whenever) a doctor just tells me I have to stop? Oddly, the thought doesn't depress me like I thought it would.
The truth is that I'm, in the words of my doctor, "remarkably fit." But, I am not as healthy as I could be. I want my pains to go away, or at least subside.
After my friend left the gym, I did about 45 minutes on the bike and stair machine, then supersetted weightlifting and bouldering. My elbow hurt. My knee hurt. Why was I even doing it? It wasn't fun. I wasn't getting myself in better shape. It was just habit. Addiction. If my pains don't go away, I will have to rethink how I recreate and realize that there is life after paddling—and some things are just out of my control.
That doesn't mean I'm giving up. I still absolutely love what I do. But addiction of any kind isn't healthy.
 

Here's the clip of Pedro Olivia on the Today Show from Thursday morning. The Brazilian kayaker nailed 127-foot Santo Belo (Beautiful Falls) earlier this month, establishing what some believe is the new waterfall world record. It's sick footage, for sure, but pay attention to the intro segment at 1:16 when the reporter paraphrases Cody Howard saying, he always tries to land his kayak nose-first into the water to cushion the impact and that he was lucky to survive. "That's not necessarily the way you want to land something off that size of a waterfall," Howard then says during an interview off site, "but it's very impressive and scary. Terrifying." Then, when the reporter is interviewing Pedro and Ben Stookesberry in the Today Show studio, at 4:17 Stookesberry says he disagrees with Howard. "Falling head-first is actually the preferred Plan B," and that landing flat is a serious jolt.
 It's interesting to note how even experts don't always see eye-to-eye on the proper way to do this. Right or wrong, Plan A or Plan B, I'm just glad Pedro still has his head connected to his torso.
For evidence of what can happen when you land too flat, look no further than Dunbar Hardy, who in 1999 ran 55-foot Hollin Falls in Ecuador. He landed flat on his hull, broke his back, and had a horrendous evacuation. We're profiling the experience, and other survival stories, in our May-June issue, so keep an eye out for it.