I’m not a chill dude. A lot of people assume I have a laissez faire attitude, probably because of my beard and the fact that I go hiking and ride bikes for work a lot and spend my “office” days wearing slippers. But I am not easygoing. Not anymore. I used to be. There was a time in my life when I drove a VW bus and was prone to stopping in shady spots on the road to play guitar and take naps.
What the hell happened to that guy? Somewhere between my mid-20s and turning 49 years old, I morphed into an uptight, Type A personality who is obsessed with maintaining a schedule and being on time to things nobody expects me to be on time to.
Even the way I spend my free time isn’t very relaxing. My favorite thing to do when I get a morning or afternoon to myself is see how many adventures I can cram into an allotted amount of time. In theory, I could just go for a bike ride, but that doesn’t do it for me. I have to see if I can ride my bike and ski and play some pickleball too. And what if I tried to paddle board between the skiing and the biking?!
I feel compelled to pack as many “fun” activities into a single day to the point where a relaxing day of adventure starts to feel like work. What’s wrong with me? I used to go with the flow, but now I’m like some horny salmon fighting the current. I’m using a metaphor here, but I’m also speaking in literal terms. One of my favorite activities during summer is to put in on the French Broad River with my paddle board and paddle upstream for an hour. I’m literally going against the flow. I do this because it’s an efficient workout. I do this because I’m sick and need help.
I want to blame my kids and parenthood in general for my turn to the dark side. Being responsible for the morality and well-being of small people turns us into efficiency consultants and task managers obsessed with TPS reports. But if I’m being honest, I was well on the way to Uptight Town long before my kids were born. It’s only gotten worse as I’ve aged. I’ve tried yoga and meditation. I’ve tried drinking, I’ve tried box breathing. I’ve tried not drinking and cold plunges. I’ve even tried drinking excessively…but I just keep winding myself tighter and tighter as I age.
But recently, something beautiful happened. I got the opportunity to spend two long days paddling the French Broad River for the first time since Hurricane Helene hit. It was a work project—MountainTrue, the non-profit that has been leading river restoration, was paddling the length of the river to assess the state of recovery and I was tagging along for an article. If it wasn’t for work, I never would’ve agreed to the adventure. Spending two full workdays sitting in a boat wreaks havoc on a Type A’s daily schedule.
For most of the first day, I was anxious about how much I wasn’t getting done. I had articles to write and kids to micromanage. What was I doing sitting in a rubber raft on a Wednesday? I kept wanting to reach for my phone and check…everything. But over time, I settled into the slow, mellow rhythm of the trip. Most of the river people I know (kayakers, guides, avid canoeists) are not uptight people. One of my best friends is the French Broad River Keeper and he’s the opposite of uptight. Down loose? Is that the opposite of uptight? Cause that describes him pretty well. I think it’s because the river strips away your agenda. You can only move at the speed of the water. You literally must go with the flow.
We hit the whitewater-heavy Section 9 first, bouncing from one class III-IV ledge and wave train to another. There wasn’t much for me to do as I was in a big rubber boat guided by an experienced oarsman, so all I had to do was not fall out of the boat.
I did great at not falling out of the boat.
The second day was a little more mellow as we headed into Tennessee, so I hopped on a standup paddle board and cruised through smaller wave trains and long stretches of flat water. The pace was excruciatingly slow, but there was nothing I could do about it. You can only go as fast as the river wants you to go. You could try to paddle hard and move the boat faster, but you’re just going to wear yourself out and ultimately get to your destination about three minutes sooner than if you just took it easy. So I just took it easy.
You can’t hurry on an extended river trip. You can’t pull your phone out, you can’t send emails, or try to stick to a schedule. It’s like exposure therapy for uptight people. At first, I kept asking my River Keeper buddy how many miles we had to go, and he would say something like, “I don’t know, maybe 9 miles. Or it could be 12.”
At some point I stopped asking and settled into the experience. It was slow and beautiful. We took lots of breaks (something I normally never do) and hiked to the top of cliffs overlooking the river and ate sandwiches in shady spots. It felt like my younger days, traveling in the VW bus and pulling over just because I wanted to pull over. With every mile we paddled, my urge to be somewhere else, to do something productive, to check my email and tell my kids an important life lesson, dissipated.
I know it’s not permanent. These two days on the river didn’t cure my Type A personality, but it gave me a glimpse of the younger, more relaxed version of myself. And I liked it. If I work really hard, I might be able to squeeze more relaxation like this into my schedule.
