Primal Drive

~ This article first appeared in The Leader-Vindicator newspaper. ~

What causes a person to deliberately reject comfort, to say “no” to the constant craving of luxury, and adopt a routine of discipline and physical distress?

This is a motivational question posed in one form or another to participants in the world of fitness.  Challenging activities are growing in popularity as people seek to push the limits of their bodies.  Rucking (long, twenty four to forty eight hour speed hikes carrying weighted backpacks), weightlifting, primitive camping, and endurance trail running offer an escape from a cushy life and a cushy waistline.  I know a number of people engaged in each of these activities, and more join them every day. 

I ask myself the same question, but with a different tone: Why the heck are they doing this?

It’s no secret that survival is a healthy option for living; birds, bugs, and wild animals are rarely found in terrible condition as a result of their constant exposure to peril despite the fact that they don’t plan ahead for anything.  Not long ago people lived this way, too, spending days actively participating in survival.  Apparently this survival drive is built in to our DNA, and now that decisions focus on a bigger TV and fancier work slacks for the fellas, it isn’t happy.  The need for physical stress, strain, failure, and accomplishment is lying below the surface of a comfortable civilization, and it wants released like a three year old wants out of a church pew.

Who do you know today that has a truly trying occupation?  Not many people.  The urban homeless and rural poor do indeed exist on a knife-edge without plans for tomorrow or a care about yesterday.  In this sense they are exercising their primal drive to survive, but the purity of the existence is too often clouded by drug abuse and horrendous diet so it does not yield appealing results.  Even difficult labor, the accomplishment of which I am not minimizing at all, is frequently reduced in an effort of efficiency to a repeated series of concomitant tasks undertaken by individuals of the crew.  It is physically challenging, but not a dynamic and thought provoking existence that invokes all of the senses and draws on multiple skills.  If a person wants to feel alive at the edge of their senses, life will no longer provide the rush.  And so the fitness world gains popularity as people decide to thrash themselves in an attempt to quell their drive to survive.

I can’t help but think that there are not too many degrees of separation between the fitness world and the farming world. 

There is a trickling shift in agriculture towards dynamic farming methods that interact with nature on a knife-edge by rearing plants and animals without the aid of modern conveniences.  Under such management, not only is the person in charge exposed to the elements and the unknowable consequences of them, so too are the animals under their supervision.  Here is a great challenge that requires thought, adjustment, physical distress, and a rush of survival coveted by people who want to see what they’re made of.   It seems the farm provides an outlet for the pent up desire to do something.

We must wonder why the gymnasium is packed and the farmyard is empty of people.  There are several barriers to entry that I can come up with.

 First, a farmer who wants to bring in fresh help is immediately no longer a farmer, he’s a people manager.  No matter how much vim and vigor a recruit has, he’s going to absorb a disproportionate amount of supervision for an extremely long time.  Most farmers would rather die attempting three jobs alone than invest the time watching someone else learn how to use a shovel.

Second, fitness distress is planned for, supervised, and has a clear finish line.  The guy benching four locomotives at the Super-Tough gym can plan to curl up on the couch after the reps are over and the Instagram pics are posted.  Distance runners can plan family events and social extravaganzas around marathon schedules and practice sessions.  On the farm, however, those survival genes are often called into action at the worst moments, disrupting life and creating a pile of missed opportunities.  People want to predict their distress.

And third, it’s the mental difference between recreation and work.  We instinctively seek release from the things we have to do.  If someone has to be inside all day, they want to be outside sweating.  Conversely, I can tell you for certain at the end of the day what I don’t want to do is take a hike.  Yet the wear and tear that I feel is fulfilling on a deeper level because it has purpose.  Challenge enthusiasts need to step up and realize that they won’t find satisfaction from fun, no matter how extreme the fun is; they’ll get satisfaction from challenging purpose.

Why do people push themselves to the limit?  Because ubiquitous comfort isn’t normal.  Our comfortable lives have created a massive reserve of human energy that’s blowing off steam in the form of recreational effort.  It’s a shame to see it wasted.  The energy policy to supersede all energy policies is hidden in plain sight wherever people pay to sweat:  direct that effort into meaningful work instead of recreational distress.