Does Getting Older Make Us Chickens?

My niece told me today that she's going to a bungee exercise class.

My first thought was that it sounded really cool.

My second thought was that I would probably hurt myself.

Then she told me it was in Chesapeake.

Eww.

And somehow that became the bigger problem.

I hate driving.

More specifically, I hate interstate driving. If I have the option, I'm almost always the passenger. Even the thought of driving my daughter to Norfolk every week for orchestra stresses me out. Thankfully, my mom takes her most weeks, which saves me from having to leave work early and navigate rush-hour traffic. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

But it's not even necessarily the distance.

It's all the cars.

Cars passing. Cars merging. Cars changing lanes. Somebody riding your ass. Somebody else cutting across three lanes because apparently missing their exit would be a greater tragedy than killing all of us.

There's just too much happening at once.

Which got me wondering why this bothers me so much now.

Maybe I Used to Be More Reckless

My niece is 16.

She just got her license. Road trips don't faze her. Interstates don't faze her. The idea of voluntarily attaching herself to a bungee cord and exercising doesn't faze her.

And I started thinking about myself at that age.

I remember being that way.

When I was younger, I didn't think twice about driving somewhere. I didn't calculate traffic patterns, wonder what time I'd have to leave to avoid rush hour, or decide that an activity sounded significantly less appealing because it required merging onto I-64.

I just went.

And it isn't only driving.

There are plenty of things I would have done without hesitation when I was younger that now make me think:

That sounds dangerous.

That sounds exhausting.

That sounds like something that could hurt my back.

I don't remember thinking very much about what could go wrong in general.

Back then, we did stupid things. We drove places without GPS. We got lost and figured it out. We rode with people who probably shouldn't have been driving. We went places without telling everyone exactly where we were going.

Half the time nobody even had a cell phone.

And somehow we survived.

Now I want to know where I'm parking before I leave the house.

At some point, apparently, my sense of adventure acquired a risk-assessment department.

Maybe It's Not Fear. Maybe We're Just Better at Imagining the Consequences.

When we're young, we know things can go wrong.

We just don't really believe they're going to go wrong for us.

Then we get older.

At 16, we know car accidents happen.

At 47, some of us have been in them.

We've learned how quickly normal can become not normal.

We've watched people get hurt doing completely ordinary things.

We've thrown our backs out sleeping.

We've hurt our necks because we turned our heads wrong.

We've discovered that apparently sneezing is now an activity requiring proper form.

We've learned that injuries don't always disappear after two days and an Advil.

We've accumulated enough life experience to know exactly how many ways a perfectly normal activity can go sideways.

So maybe it isn't that we suddenly become chickens.

Maybe we're just getting better at predicting consequences.

Which is useful.

But also kind of annoying.

Because sometimes our brains take all that information, add it to a database of Ways This Could Go Horribly Wrong, and turn it into:

Probably safer if you just stay home, loser.

But There's Another Part — Comfort Is Sneaky

When we're younger, inconvenience is just part of the adventure.

A two-hour drive? Sure.

No parking? We'll figure it out.

Traffic? Whatever.

Get home at 2 a.m.? Fine.

At some point, though, we start doing calculations.

How long is the drive?

What's traffic going to be like?

Where do I park?

What time will I get home?

Do I have to wear real pants?

Maybe life slowly gets more comfortable, and we get protective of our peace.

We know what we like.

We know where we're going.

We have routines.

We know which roads suck, which restaurants aren't worth the parking situation, and exactly how comfortable our couches are.

And without realizing it, we start making decisions based less on:

Would this be fun?

And more on:

How inconvenient will this be?

That's the part I don't love.

The bungee exercise class itself?

Still sounds kind of fun.

Driving to Chesapeake in traffic to do it?

Absolutely not.

So, Are We Getting Wiser or Being Chickens?

Probably both.

But I don't think getting older automatically makes us boring or afraid.

Age gives us experience.

Experience gives us perspective.

Perspective tells us that yes, sometimes things actually do go horribly wrong.

We've also learned that not every experience is worth the hassle required to have it.

I reserve the right to continue hating interstate driving.

But I don't want being sensible to quietly turn into being afraid of everything.

I don't necessarily need to start jumping out of airplanes or driving cross-country by myself just to prove I've still got it.

Avoiding genuinely dangerous things is probably wisdom.

Avoiding interesting things because they require traffic, planning, discomfort, or the possibility of looking ridiculous?

That feels different.

Maybe every once in a while, when my first reaction is Nope, I should ask myself why.

Is it actually dangerous? Is it something I genuinely don't want to do? Or have I just gotten really comfortable?

Maybe getting older doesn't automatically make us chickens. Maybe it just gives us more reasons to talk ourselves out of things. Maybe the trick is learning which reasons are wisdom... and which ones are bullshit.

I don't want to stop trying new things just because they're uncomfortable or inconvenient. I still want adventures. I still want to do things that scare me a little. I still want to say yes when something sounds fun.

I just apparently want those adventures reasonably close to my house. Preferably without interstate driving. And with good parking.