Say yes more
Once I started going on adventures, I fell deeply in love with the world of travel, expeditions and endeavour. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know. As I travelled further, I realised how little I had seen and how much there was to do in life. Would I like to go there? Yes! Am I up for this challenge? Yes! Every journey gave me ideas for new ones. Life was exciting!Mountains, deserts, jungles, cities, savannah: whatever it was, I wanted it all. I was greedy. I was never interested in becoming a specialist in one region or an expert at one sport. My appetite has always been for the new: I enjoy being a beginner. However, there was one type of adventure that never appealed. I had read plenty of books about ocean rowing, and the concept struck me as stupid. You go backwards for thousands of miles. It is simultaneously claustrophobic and agoraphobic. You face sharks, storms, capsize and seasickness. You are trapped in a tiny, home-made boat for so long that you end up with nothing left to talk about except whose buttocks hurt the most. And boy, do those buttocks hurt. You get boils on your bottom and salt sores everywhere else. It is a venture both tedious and terrifying: not a good combination.Then I opened an email.
Hello Alastair…Are you interested in rowing the E-W Atlantic in January? …Sounds fun, right? 🙂Bye, Marin
No, I thought to myself. I am not interested in rowing the Atlantic Ocean – or any other ocean for that matter. I certainly don’t want to do it with you, weird bloke from Slovenia who I’ve never met. Rowing an ocean with people you don’t know is foolhardy. And leaving in six weeks? Well, that’s just daft. I can’t get ready to row the Atlantic by then. I’m busy. You’re an idiot. And no, it doesn’t sound fun at all. The only sensible answer to the question was ‘no’.
So I clicked reply and answered, ‘yes!’
I flew out to the Canary Isles, met Marin and my other two crewmates – Simon and Steve – and off we went, rowing out onto thousands of miles of empty ocean. And I was right: rowing the Atlantic was a mostly unpleasant experience. Why on earth did I say yes to Marin? I did so because it was clear that this was a rare opportunity. One of my missions in life is to make the most of my opportunities. By nature, I am a cautious, pessimistic person, but I have worked hard to teach myself not to be like that. An excellent way to do that is to say ‘yes’ more often. You might sensibly say, ‘you thought it would be miserable, did it anyway and then it was miserable. I’m not sure that sounds very smart.’ But now that sufficient time has passed, I look back on the trip with great fondness and pride. (I explain this concept of ‘Type 2 Fun’ later in the book.) On the day that Marin’s email arrived, I was busy. But I imagined myself as an old man looking back on my life. 50 years from now, how many urgent chores would I remember? Zero, of course. But I would be chuffed to regale my grandchildren with tales of high adventure and chafed buttocks. And that was why I should say yes to the opportunity.
OVER TO YOU:
– What is an example of a time you said a bold ‘yes’ to an opportunity and were glad of it?
– Are there any occasions when you regret not having said yes?
– Think of examples in your work life and your home life.
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