Care for a walk...
The walk of shame
Take Sixteen
A sure sign of ageing is ranting at the news. Being irked by a news bulletin announcing that some numpty hill walkers have been airlifted to safety.
Hill walking in February. Didn’t they check the weather?
Air lifted!
“How much did that cost? And more importantly, who paid for it? I’ll tell who paid for it…” I find myself muttering to myself.
Over the years, I have met many explorer types. Surely, one of the most dubious professions of all. Even more ill-fangled than being a life coach.
Explorer is a first-world profession, if ever there is one, and exclusively the preserve of the privileged.
Kids from ordinary backgrounds might dream of heading to the North Pole, but for how many is this ever an option?
And redundant because, of course, it’s been done already, the Poles, I mean. And so, are they really exploring at all? This explains why they need to dream up ever-increasing hardships for missions already completed. The first posh man to walk to the North Pole wearing flip flops.
Completing an arduous task, hopefully with some tangible injuries and scarring for the inevitable book release and forthcoming conference speeches.
Motivational speeches are what these chaps deliver at conferences to unsuspecting sales reps of various companies. Although quite what a double-glazing salesman can learn from a bloke called Piers who sailed the Atlantic in a bathtub is beyond me.
These motivational speeches take place during the day, and I have sat through enough of them to know that they are basically all the same.
Be determined. Believe in yourself. Do your best. Enjoy the highs and learn from the lows. Never give up. Surround yourself with good people…
Sports stars do very nicely, giving practically the same speech as each other. Same jokes but with players’ names changed.
Ranulph Fiennes is the king of such speakers. He has walked to both Poles and has the missing digits to prove it – and on show when the punters finally get to the head of the queue waiting to have their book signed.
Don’t get me wrong, I admire fortitude and bravery, especially since I am not tough at all. Not by any measure.
I put comfort above all else, and I seek to avoid pain wherever possible.
But when I sit at the back of a conference room and listen to a Rupert or a Henry talk about their hard and grinding walk,
I am slightly resentful. Firstly, because later in the evening this sober audience will be drunk, and if my speech is met with the same silence, the client is likely to question my invoice. But also, because the walk they are describing is not so difficult and in fact, I have done harder walks myself. And I put it to you that you have too.
Most of us have.
Most of us have completed harder walks than getting to either magnetic Pole. I hope that you’re intrigued by now because I am about to reveal what this walk is. The walk that you might well have already completed.
The hardest walk on earth is…
…the walk down the stairs from the top diving board.