Maybe I'm Just a Masochist

I am noticing a trend starting to develop in my most recent living situations. Seven months ago I was living in a dorm in Viriginia where it was chilly out, but really not too cold even when there was snow. Then, for a month, I moved back to Elko where it was significantly colder and I lived in my old bedroom that is just one room away from being right above the garage. After that, I was in Russia where it was beyond bitterly cold and I lived in an apartment situated directly over a garage. I am now living in Idaho and working as a raft guide, spending eight hours a day not only freezing cold, but also soaking wet, and living in what really can't be called an apartment, but is really just a few grungy old bedrooms and bathrooms built into the loft of barn that has been converted into a garage and gear shed.

I'm really hoping that this doesn't mean that the next move I will be making is to live on the barren floor of some eskimo's igloo-gargage in the arctic and sleeping next a team of sled dogs. Though, sled dogs probably smell better than a lot of raft guides.

I don't think I have ever questioned my own sanity as much- not even when I ran cross country- as I did yesterday. My thoughts were something similar to this:

 "Do I have circulation in my feet? Hmmm. I can't really feel them. Maybe I just don't have good blood flow down there do to the tightness of my shoes. No. I think it really is the 44 degree water.

 Today's worse than yesterday. It wasn't raining yesterday and my arms didn't feel like they were going to fall out of their sockets the first moment I touched the oars. Why does it have to rain? It just makes everything colder and wetter. I feel like I'm some leaky ice-pack that an elementary school nurse would give to kid to put on his bumped forehead. I'm pretty sure that 90% of my blood is my torso right now, just trying to keep my most vital organs working.

Why in the world do I love the river so much? It is insane. It is frigid, and wet, and terrifyingly powerful, and I have to wear something called a LIFE jacket while I'm on it. A jacket that protects my life. What kind of sick sport is this where I have to wear a piece of equipment that's soul purpose is to keep me alive and to not let me drown? What kind of crazy person am I that I want to actively participate in such a lunatic sport, rather than only in the sports normal people play that involve chasing some sort of ball around out in the sunshine or a nice warm gym? Why don't I just stick with teatherball or something else sane that doesn't involve nearly having my heart explode out of my chest do a sudden blast of adrenalin, panic, and cold water?

But that rapid was so fun..."

Yes, there  somtimes are those very long, freezing streches of river where you have to paddle through hours of soggy and cold. But, there are also those waves that are like a rollercoaster ride, those tough lines through a rapid that you finally get the triumph of nailing, and those days when the sun actually shines. Those days when the landscape and scenery around the river is so breath-taking that you forget about the cold for a minute and don't really care that the misty clouds caught on the mountians just off in the distance probably mean that you're going to have to row through more rain soon.