Tested to Self-Destruction

One of the axioms I live by is that I'm "Tested to Self-Destruction since 1983". It's not a particularly theological phrase, but it's very, very central to how I life, so I figured I'd write about it.

In many types of engineering, planned buildings, cars, and other structures are modeled and then tested to destruction. Destructive testing allows the engineers to say "OK, we know for a fact that the bridge will fail when there are 600 tons on it, so we will set the max load at 450 tons and allow a 150 ton safety margin."

Not destructively testing the design would mean they could only estimate the design's max load, and would have no way of knowing what's actually safe, or even where the weakest part of the structure is. Computer modeling is nice, but nothing beats a full-scale test. Destructive testing allows the engineers to create stronger, safer bridges by identifying and fixing weak spots.

People are, I believe, similar in a way. Everyone has a breaking point, but most people (I believe) never try to find it, and certainly never by choice. Given the option between sitting on a couch or trying to find out exactly how far one can run, most people these days would choose to sit on the couch. However, someone who decides that before breakfast, they're going to walk outside and run until they simply can't run another step will learn something about themselves that they didn't know.

It might be that they've got bad running shoes, or it might be that they need to eat better. It might be that they thought they could run a mile and only ran a half-mile. Maybe they ran five. Pushing until they hit the absolute limit of their ability to run will not only show them their limit, it will make them stronger and show their weaknesses, and if they so desire, allow them to address those weakness.

I am diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I have certain mental weaknesses that have often limited my ability to handle life, but I refuse to play it safe and sit on the couch, either literally or metaphorically. So I take my meds as prescribed, then do everything I can to push the limits of what I can and can't handle. This has occasionally been destructive in my life.

I once went laser-tagging at the end of a 30-hour sleepless period, and messed up my hand bad enough that I couldn't use it well for a week, but despite that qualifying as destructive testing, I found out that the limit of how long I can stay up and be highly active was over 24 hours. 

The limit of how much depression I can handle without wanting to eat a bullet has also been pushed pretty far, and I've never attempted suicide. In 2011 I went through a depressive period so severe that I was barely functional (meaning I could barely feed myself, not "I could barely hold a job and go to school"), but I never wanted to kill myself, even though the idea was at times tempting.

I've also done purely-physical things to push my limits, with possibly-destructive results. I've done backpacking trips that were, by the end of the day's hike, a one-step-at-a-time affair, and I once did a 30-mile bicycle ride, so I know that if I need to, I could push my body pretty far. I've never found the absolute limit of my ability to carry a 50-lb ruck, some day I want to. Then a week later I'll walk further, just to push that limit.

The common thread in all of this is that it's generally me pushing me to work harder until I break down in one form or another. I won't for a second say that this is a safe and pleasant way to walk through life, but I have learned that the limit of how far I can push myself before I self-destruct is generally a ways further than I normally need to.

The result has always been that I get a little bit tougher. Every time muscles are exercised hard, they tear a bit, and the tears fill in with more muscle cells, growing stronger through damage. It's the same with everything else that gets pushed to the limit: Once the absolute limit is found, it can generally be pushed a little farther the next time one tries to find it. I know the limits of my depression, and how bad I can let it get before I need help. Same thing with mania.

There are things I cannot either physically or emotionally handle, and there always will be. Everyone has a breaking point, but one of the things I am sure of in this life is that if we are not afraid of occasionally breaking down, if we contintually strive to push our limits every time we come near them, then we will be tougher, stronger, smarter, and in every way more capable than if we sit on our couches in fear.

I've been tested to self-destruction since 1983, and I am better every year for it.

AAR: Black Lake, Idaho

The Plan:

Backpack from High Dive to Black Lake by the pictured route on 2 July, spend two days there camped at the mine, and return to High Dive on 5 July.

It was a pretty good plan.

The Reality:

We got off to a great start on 2 July, but accidentally went up the first draw, not the second. Thus, after roughly three hours of rucking uphill towards Black Lake (henceforth BL), we were greeted with the sight of Emerald Lake, not BL. This necessitated a ridgeline hike towards BL via Pyramid Peak, and a drop down a steep shale slope above the mine (East of Pyramid Peak) instead of the rock/grass/dirt slope that was to the west of Pyramid Peak. We left High Dive at roughly 1300, and arrived at BL at roughly 1800 (IIRC).

This was compounded by the lack of preparatory PT on the part of one of my party of three (Bravo). His failure to physically prepare for the trip not only slowed down the pace of the party (resulting in us being caught in a light rain), but led to him having increased trouble with the altitude change, and becoming physically ill.

Due to Bravo's illness, we left BL a day early on 4 July, backpacking from the BL mine where we were camped back out to High Dive via the BL road, which was passable on foot but not by car or truck. This went far faster, and it only took us 4-5 hours.

On the way out, we encountered several parties on 4-wheelers, who told us that there was barbecue and ice cream waiting for us at High Dive. Apparently, it is a local tradition to drive up the BL road on the 4th of July until snow is reached, then to barbecue and make home-made ice cream with the snow.

 Happy 4th of July!

What Went Wrong:

1. A lack of physical preparation for the hike. While everyone on the invite list had been told well in advance of the hike's length, altitude, and physical difficulty, we were still not fully prepared for the trip. Part of this is obviously due to the altitude change, I was living at ~650 feet before the trip, while the others were living at ~2200 feet, but in spite of that, we should have trained for the weight and distance of the actual hike better than we did.

2. We forgot hearing protection. Despite knowing in advance that we were going to be carrying and shooting guns the whole weekend, we forgot to bring earpro, and so we were basically stuck lugging heavy steel objects that none of us were entirely comfortable shooting, even after improvising earpro using spent casings and string.

The price of not being prepared.

Those work decently well, by the way.

3. In general, we overpacked or mispacked. While my food stock and ammo stock reflected the original plan of a 4-day hike (meaning food for 5 in case of injury or delay) full of shooting, I still noticed that I had duplicate items (bars of soap, knives). Bravo brought a 26-oz glass jar of peanut butter, while Alpha mentioned that he brought too much "snack" food. Additionally, my ground pad has outlived its usefulness, and is neither light nor especially pad-ish.

Dude, what? Why would you even bring that?

4. For sleep I utliized a "Ranger Taco" setup, meaning a poncho liner laced into a poncho, which is then snapped shut and entered fully clothed. This proved inadequate due to the wind off the snowpack, which had no trouble at all entering at either end of the taco.

The red mag was loaded with 77-grain Hornady BTHPs instead of M855s.

What Went Right:

1. Spirits remained relatively high for the entire trip, with nobody becoming grouchy or depressed despite heavy loads, long miles, and cold nights.

2. Nobody was injured, outside of minor scrapes, some blisters, and sunburns. Those don't count.

3. The cold nights aside, July is a much better time to visit Black Lake than August. The temperature at the lake was far more comfortable during the days, and there was nobody else around until the folks who came up for the 4th of July. This gave us free reign to build a fire, shoot guns, and generally just have fun without any worry than anyone else would be around to complain.

Lessons Learned:

1. Additional PT is required. My standard for PT marches a month before the trip was a 50-lb 5K ruck march in 45 minutes or less, which was entirely sufficient for the weight, but lacking for the distance. I should have been doing 10K or 10-mile marches. This would also have highlighted several chafing points that were revealed during the trip, and caused pain that didn't need to be there.

2. While my basic load (2K calories per day, 100-oz Camelback, single set of layered clothing) was acceptable , I need to reexamine each individual item for weight, and take care to avoid duplicates. Furthermore, I need to swap in snack food for some of the full meals, I had no real opportunity to eat while moving, and that cost me energy I needed later in the hikes. Upping the calories carried would be nice if weight permits.

2A. For cost reasons, I need to experiment with cheaper meals. Just-add-water pastas are available from bulk food stores, with some fortification like beans and meat they could replace dehydrated meals, which are expensive. I could also get by with a much smaller cookpot than the 8-quart one I had.

3. My rifle is an acceptable choice for a hiking gun, but I need to see if I can swap in a lighter forearm without excessive expense. A tilt-capable bipod would also be nice, but other than those items, it's more than accurate enough for what I ask it to do, and it functioned fine lubricated with aircraft motor oil. 

4. A "Ranger Taco" alone is insufficient for severe cold weather, or mild winds blowing off a snowpack. On both nights, the cold wind hitting my neck and feet made it hard to sleep, and I was shivering. I need to find a way to upgrade the system for colder weather, probably meaning a regular sleeping bag stuffed inside. 

5. Popping a couple heavy-duty (but non-narcotic) painkillers before a hike will make it easier. Having the aches and pains dulled in advance really helps as the miles stack up.

6. Choose who to invite on backpacking trips carefully. While I would reinvite either of the friends that I brought this time, not everyone on the original invite list would have been, and the intense physicality of the trip would have meant a lot of grumpiness if anyone had started complaining. It's one thing to go on ahead, drop my pack, and come back to help out someone who's just not physically up to the trip, it's quite another to deal with someone who's decided to start bitching about everything.

 The view is always worth the work it takes to get there.