On Adventure, or Beyond Burnout

Why I am going to cross Transylvania on horseback

Anna Katharina Schaffner

The Carpathian Mountains in Romania

‘Living safely is dangerous,’ Irvin Yalom writes. I have felt the truth of this statement lately, in the form of a growing existential restlessness, a longing for new experiences, and a craving for wild, distant places. And in feeling that my life has become too samey and safe. By nature more housecat than explorer, I am a fairly solitary and risk-averse creature of habit, whose daily routines are almost ritualistically rigid, and who can cope with spontaneous change only in low doses – so all this is very new for me.

Maybe hearing the call to adventure is a consequence of the new life I have designed over the past few years. I truly love being a coach; it nourishes me deeply and I have the work-life balance now that I always wanted. Most days I feel energized, curious, connected and grateful. Maybe it’s a stage-of-life thing, with my daughter growing up fast and becoming more independent. But above all I think that this newly emerged wanderlust has to do with where I am in my own burnout recovery cycle, and that’s why I wanted to share it with you. In many ways, craving adventure is the opposite of burnout – the feeling of having capacity, even a need, for challenge and newness, a sense that there is surplus time and energy that can be spent on outrageously frivolous activities that serve no obvious productivity purpose. It’s the feeling of being able to step safely outside the achievement economy and have some fun. Of craving activity rather than rest, not constantly having to economize where energy is concerned, of being able to spend it without worry. I haven’t felt that for years.

I was also very inspired by a friend who ran what we called a death-marathon last year – she signed up for a very tough race on an extremely dangerous track in South Africa, which forced her to get super fit in a very short time, because she would otherwise have put herself at high risk of either failing immediately or injuring herself badly. In her head, she had framed her challenge as ‘either I train or I die’. I watched her completely transform her body in six months and develop a hugely impressive discipline and mindset.

About a year ago, I rediscovered my love of horse-riding. I used to ride as a teenager but then, for no good reason, had a 30-year break. I’ve been rekindling this passion for over a year now and have been taking regular riding lessons. I never feel as alive and joyous as I do on a galloping horse out in nature. I usually ride indoors with a group of highly-adept 70+-year-olds who all look like they have been born on horses and just stayed on them over the decades, perfecting their skills. They work on fine-tuning extremely subtle dressage techniques that tend to remain incomprehensible to me, whilst I try to stay in the saddle, communicate well with my horse, and enjoy myself.

All of this is why I signed up for a seven-day horse-riding trail at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania. We will cover over 200km and there will be a lot of very fast riding in wild territory in which wolves, bears and eagles roam. And who knows what else. I used to teach a module on vampires in literature and film when I was a university lecturer, and, just like Bram Stoker, I consider myself an armchair Transylvania expert. I feel a strange affinity to the region, its creatures real and imagined, and Transylvania has always loomed large in my imagination.

We will be in the saddle seven hours each day. It’s a trail for experienced riders only (and although I hope I do now fall into this category, I’m not sure). While I sadly didn’t develop the iron discipline of my death-marathon friend, nor managed to transform my body like she did, I have been riding regularly and trying to do some kind of exercise almost every day for the last couple of months. I have been mostly successful with that, apart from those days when travel for work or too much red wine the evening before have got in the way. I am fitter than ever before in my life, but, comparatively speaking, my fitness level is still middling, just like my horse-riding skills.

My adventure starts on 30 August and I plan to post about it on Instagram (if there is reception). I feel as prepared as I can be. My greatest fear is not the physical challenge (I know I am very perseverant) but rather a fear of fear itself: I still occasionally get anxious and think too much about the possibility of falling off my horse and how awful that would be. It’s a fear that lives in my body more than in my mind, and it is hard to control when it arises. When it happens, it feels like a mini panic attack – my heart racing, breathing getting shallow, sweat on my forehead, legs turning wobbly, my mind doing strange things. Any horse immediately feels changes of state in their riders – they are highly sensitive animals, who can sense a tiny fly landing on their backs, and they are deeply attuned to variations in our heart rate. If the rider is alarmed, the horse will be alarmed, too.

So in addition to being in control of my basic equestrian techniques, I also need to be in control of my mind on this trip, being very mindful of the stories I am telling myself, breathing deeply and evenly, not allowing fear to take over. It’s a fine line sometimes, between fear and exhilaration, excitement, adrenalin, a perception of risk, and simply feeling very intensely alive.

Images: @Unsplash