Tag: Editor’s Picks
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Why Do Things The Hard Way?
Expeditions in the twenty first century are rarely necessary. In fact, the vast majority of those conducted last century weren’t born of an actual need to accomplish anything either. Not like the old days where crossing a mountain range or sea might have been the only way to survive. In that sense, it seems fair…
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If You Aim to Motivate then Stop Exaggerating
Aside from supporting charities, the most common purpose given for undertaking expeditions, like travelling to a pole or climbing a big mountain, are to inspire and motivate other people. These are good and valid aims in most instances. I myself am forever inspired by the endeavours I read about and they provide constant motivation for…
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Consider this your excuse
It would be fair to say that I like doing things that other people often consider weird. Taking cold showers, swimming outdoors and dragging tyres spring to mind, as do most of the things on this page. I PULLED TYRES to train for a planned North Pole trip. It’s the standard training method for that…
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My Subtle Epiphany
Eureka moments don’t happen. There’s no such thing as a split-second moment of inspiration or a lightning strike, flash bulb of an idea. At least, not for me. Instead, there’s a kind of slow creeping realisation. A subtle epiphany that strikes with the alacrity of treacle off a spoon. – My train’s due in 8…
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I Feel at Home in Traffic
I get nervous in big crowds. Never quite sure how to stand or where to put my hands. I enjoy company and small groups – even the focus of their attention – but more than that and I am a wreck. Presented to strangers I am uneasy but anonymous amongst them I am at peace.…
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Women can’t run marathons – Part I
Did you know that there was no women’s marathon in the Olympic Games until 1984? The men’s event, in contrast, was part of the inaugural “modern Olympics” in 1896. Women had, of course, run marathons before that but not without a lot of effort – and I don’t mean the running. Under the assumption that…
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Mountains and Mole Hills
My legs are pistons, firing repeatedly in a hypnotic cadence, a relentless machine hell bent on speed. Churning the big cog over and over, I’m flying through London at a dangerous rate of knots. The low sunlight reflects off a tower block in the distance, each of its windows flashing bursts of light like the…