Why do we feel the need to take outdoor sports to the extreme?

When did everything become a competition, and what happened to just having fun?

I’m a competitive person by nature. Such is life when you grow up in the world of gymnastics, constantly pushing yourself to the fringes of your comfort levels.

If I didn’t train longer than everyone else, what was the point? And If I didn’t win, it didn’t count. I grew up genuinely thinking that life really was a competition.

Every accomplishment a new record to be beat. Every new feat an unlock of something greater.

The way I saw it, if you’re not doing it harder, pushing it farther, and swinging bigger, you weren’t doing things right.

I honestly think it’s this mentality that made me so attracted to the outdoors. The rugged nature of outdoor adventure and its ability to really humble you made me excited, as if it was something to tackle and win over.

I gravitated toward the outdoors quickly, always trying to one-up my previous hike, whether in the time it took to traverse a certain number of miles or the difficulty of the terrain I was going to take on.

What’s the point, after all, if you’re not pushing yourself to do the next hard thing?

The Fascinating Paradox Of The Outdoorsman

I can’t help but be fascinated by the way climbers refer to themselves as “dirtbags,” yet they also happen to be some of the most dedicated, skilled, competitive people I’ve witnessed.

I mean, the very existence of Alex Honnold and his knack for breaking records is proof, if you’ve ever needed it.

Outdoors folks are hands-down some of the most competitive people I know, and yet they carry themselves with this laid-back attitude that almost entirely contracts it.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been out on the trail and noticed backpackers with their worn-down boots and sun-soaked skin resting their feet in an alpine lake while they prep tonight’s 5-star meal (aka Ramen by starlight).

The “dirtbag”, hippie culture of the outdoor space is well-known. Type B to the fullest.

Yet you can pretty much bet that those same laid-back backpackers are planning to get up before the sun rises to summit that mountain in record time. Type A behavior to a tee.

There’s just something about the outdoorsman personality that manages to be equal parts Type A and Type B. A wild paradox, to say the least.

But Are They Really Having Fun?

On its face, it really seems like it. I’m sure some would argue that the outdoorsman personality is the ideal. Someone who can balance both fun and competition at once? Isn’t that the dream?

Sure, in theory. But I can’t help but think that the laid back attitude is just a facade, and that outdoorsy folks are probably driving themselves crazy performing this balancing act of “I don’t care, man” antics with the need to constantly set a personal best in whatever outdoor sport they participate in.

For most outdoorsy folks, I think we get into it for the love of the thing and the way it brings us peace or provides a form of escapism. Whatever it is, we cling to the fun of it all.

But at some point, this outdoor culture of “casual perfectionism,” takes over, and you end up feeling this pressure to do better. And yes, even if you’re not a literal athlete.

Hell, it’s part of the reason we have tech and apps to track route length and speed. These app developers know outdoorsy people are a hyper-competitive bunch. Why would they encourage us publish those stats if we weren’t?

At What Point Do We Take A Step Back?

I’m sure I’m not the only one, but when I fall in love with something new, I can hyper-fixate on it. I love the sense of fun and adventure that comes with being a beginner at something, and I go all in.

I don’t expect to be an expert by any means, which gives me the freedom to just try and do it for the experience. But at some point, I start to get good at the thing I love.

And I think that’s where the slippery slope starts. You start to feel the pressure to behave like someone who’s good at something. You become hyper-aware of the norms and expectations of the thing.

And next thing you know, you’re not pushing yourself for the fun anymore. You’re pushing yourself for the competition; for the sake of being more extreme.

Let me be clear, I’m not an athlete of any extreme outdoor sport. I admire climbers from afar, amazed at what they’re able to do. I watch in awe as bikers pedal their way 4,000 feet up a winding mountain pass that my car struggles to accelerate up.

But even so, as an everyday outdoorswoman, I feel this pressure too. When I fail at completing a hike, I’m hesitant to share about it. When I haven’t accomplished an adventure that my friends have done a million times over, I fear saying something.

It’s that nagging competitive nature from those gymnastics days, but it’s there for me just like I’d imagine it’s there for many other outdoorsy folks. We just don’t like talking about it.

So What’s The Point?

So I guess the thing I’m wondering is this: is this really what we want? Do we genuinely want to feel like every outdoors excursion is a competition, or do we just want to enjoy our moments breathing in the mountain air?

Do we really want to track every hike, run, or biking trip to see if we make a personal record? Or would we rather just experiment for the hell of it, seeing how far we can push ourselves without making it about besting ourselves?

I don’t know if I have the answer, and honestly, how you answer this question may be wildly different than how I do.

Frankly, I love that the outdoors makes us want to be better than we were yesterday. A little competition is a beautiful thing. But as a recovering perfectionist, I also know all too well how competition can easily ruin your love for the thing you care about most.

After all, my hyper-competitive nature and my need to always be first is one of the big reasons I walked away from gymnastics. And while those days are long gone, I know I’d never want to let a little competition get in the way of me enjoying the outdoors.

That’d be a real shame.

Some might say a little competition never hurt anybody. But I’d argue that maybe a little competition is killing the whole damn thing.

In Case You Missed It

Last week I shared the little ways I make my camping trips more comfortable. The perfect read if you’re the type of person who, like me, starts really missing the comforts of home after a few days of camping.