Muster
mus·ter /ˈməstər/
verb
- Assemble, especially for inspection or preparation.
- Collect or assemble, a number or amount.
From an early age I was an athlete. I identified as a competitor. At first it was lacrosse but then endurance sports took the focus. I enjoyed the process, the planning, the preparation, the training. But I also reveled in the event, the day of competition when an energy unlike any other pulses through the air. Eventually though, I fell out of stride. I fatigued of the structure, the rigorous standards and relentless pace. I began to be drawn to physical endeavors that were an expression of my creativity. I didn’t want to race the course, I wanted to explore the forest, the ridge lines, the horizons that called from every crested hill.
For a decade I operated largely under this paradigm. I stayed active, interested in my health and fitness but open to let my body follow where my mind wandered. I continued to train loosely, and push myself in ways that were challenging both physically and mentally. Through these adventures I broadened my understanding of what I was physically capable of, while gaining deep spiritual satisfaction from navigating the mysterious and raw natural wilderness of the mountains and my mind.
But then something else happened.
I grew older. I began to appreciate just how much I could enjoy a dark coffee, the warmth of a fire and a book or my guitar. I realized how often the experiences that pushed me the most required me to get so close to misery and discomfort that little about them ended up being fun, or informative. I saw that as that happened more and more I wasn’t always gaining an understanding beyond the cold reality of my fear, my vulnerability and my desire for the comfort that we all share.
This isn’t to say that I stopped or gave up on adventuring in this way, but things did change. I felt like I had less to prove, to anyone, to myself. I realized that the purpose of my explorations didn’t need to be a grand challenge or statement, but that the exploration was a purpose in an of itself. As we get older, not only do our physical and mental realities change, but so do the pressures and expectation of cultural reality. Sometimes stepping outside of those realities and into the real wilderness of our world, even briefly, can serve to remind us of the basic truths and priorities that are so often obscured by the constant demands of our civilized world. It is not only rejuvenating spiritually, but can often illuminate a kind of guidance for navigating the twisted streets humanity has built itself.
I started this letter to talk about my re-entry into the world of organized competition, but here I am, waxing on about the importance and power of stepping outside all of that. Go figure. Once again I’m reminded that life is all about balance, about not taking anything too seriously while maintaining a level of awareness and respect for all the things that effect us.
During this last austral winter I stepped back into the world of competitive cross country skiing when I chose to compete in the twenty-fifth annual Merino Muster Loppet race in Cardrona New Zealand. While I’d been wanting to compete in this race for a few years I had held off because I better understood my temperament. I knew I wanted to preform at the higher end of my abilities, yet I was nervous that I lacked the diligence and dedication to actually put in that work that it would require. But like most things a friend encouraged me and I did the only real thing that leads to commitment these days, I put down the money.
I had two main trepidations going into this training period, finding the motivation for specific fitness training, and just how to quantify the rather large amount of physical effort that goes into my everyday work as a ski patroller on the South Island. I wanted to increase my fitness but I knew that finding the motivation after five, nine-hour days in my ski boots often in poor or adverse weather could be difficult. Likewise I didn’t want to overextend myself and end up getting injured, run down, or sick.
I’m not here to share my secret super-organized training structure, I’m going to tell you the truth. I just tried to create discipline in my life. I used rewards like eating out at the new food truck in Twizel to go to the gym. I tried to ride my bike new places and get out for a long days ski tour on my days off. I listed to my body and didn’t overdo it. I rested often, as I do, and tried my best to eat healthy, despite an abundance of day-old muffins offered up from the cafe. I used what I knew from previous years of training and tried to apply it here. I had some long distance days, I tried to mix in a little strength training, and I prioritized intervals and a tempo workout about once a week. I knew I wouldn’t have much chance to go skate skiing before the even so I did all my training on alpine or touring skis, in the gym, on the bike, and on the run.
Sure enough I only had one day on skinny skis prior to the event, and as I knew they would, certain muscles screamed at me for not being ready. But you know what? It worked. Come the day of the race I felt pretty good, maybe even ready. I was able to give it a lot, if not my all, and most importantly I was satisfied with the effort. If you’re interested the race was 42 kilometers long, about the distance of a marathon, and I finished in just about 2 hours and 8 minutes, about 20 minutes behind the leaders but good enough for 10th male finisher and 13th overall out of about 115 racers, first in my age group which is now astoundingly for those over 30 years old.
I’m writing this down for a couple reasons, one is because I think it’s a good reminder that a little bit of discipline and structure in our already over-scheduled lives can instill a tremendous amount of satisfaction and self worth. Special thanks to my brother Taylor for leading by example on this one, I’m not sure I would have found the drive or diligence to stick to it without the example of a super busy architect finding the time to compete as a high level triathlete. But I’m also writing this because I’m about to do it all again. Another friend encouraged me to sign up for the American Birkebeiner this February in northern Wisconsin. The Birke is America’s longest ski marathon at 50km for the skate distance and 55 for classic. Last year almost three thousand men competed in the 50km skate race, the one I’ve entered. That makes me nervous just typing it.
I thought the muster definition was a good way to open this up, and so I’ll try and finish it there too. In New Zealand, mustering is all about corralling sheep together on a big station, or ranch, but certainly we all know a different connotatoin of the word as well. We muster energy, resolve, and discipline. Life takes effort. Rarely do we get to relax completely, or are we not working towards some goal, or at least have a multitude of projects and processes at work in the background of our lives. The things we want, we have to go after them. Even when we feel like they’re distant or unreachable, we have to muster up the courage to push ahead, hopeful that we may get closer, or even possibly achieve our dreams.
I think the best interpretation of the opening definition is ‘assembly for preparation’. We’re all getting ready. We’re getting our shit together. It’s a process but we’re moving forward. So many things in our lives require attention, maintenance, organization, that I think we often regress to the antithesis of that when we have a moment to rest. We want no rules, no regulations, no structure. We want to wild out and just forget about it all. I’m not going to say that that’s not necessary or beneficial once in a while, but certainly one of the things I’m re-learning through this process is how much mustering our own qualities of discipline or organization and focusing them on personal projects can create deep satisfaction, self worth, and growth.
Two months away for me now, I hope I can muster up something.