Always Lead With Your Good Leg

So, hi.

You’re welcome.

This little nugget was probably already rattling around in your brain - especially if you’re a "more mature"… fine, "older" hiker.

But at least one person needed to hear it.

(Me...I am that person).

Unfortunately, this means you are all now legally required to listen.

I actually already knew this.

I have even "yadda-yadda’d" about it before (a technical term meaning “spoke at length with confidence”).

And yet - AND YET - I very nearly ignored my own instincts and almost launched myself into the mouth of a cave, prepared to spend my remaining years bonding with bats and regretting my decisions.

Know Your Limitations

Here’s the thing. This applies to everyone, but especially to those of us who remember dial-up internet.

As you age (sorry, youth - I hate you a little, and increasingly so each year), things still work, but unpredictably.

Like a software update no one asked for, didn’t install, and definitely can’t roll back.

Only YOU know your limitations. The old bat whose the same age next to you has completely different limitations.

Welcome to the "Golden Years", where everything is a limited edition - but in wildly inconsistent quantities.

For example: I now have a strong-ish leg and a less strong-ish leg.

The Strong Leg handles negotiations with gravity. The other one is more of a creative consultant.

If balance or negotiations with Mother Nature are involved, I absolutely must lead with the stronger one.

This is not a preference.

This is survival.

Recently, this became relevant while entering a cave and needing to get onto a ladder via a wall face.

A very helpful young-er woman (I genuinely thought she worked there - she did not) decided to assist everyone because hikers are like that.

Helpful.

Wholesome.

Slightly bossy.

She insisted I use my weaker leg first.

I froze. Tried. Froze again. Tried again.

I suggested that I use my other leg first.

She said no.

Now, had I known she was just a fellow hiker and not a "qualified cave consultant," I might have said, “Lady, let me do this my own way.”

But I assumed there was some very important, science-based reason for her insistence.

Eventually, I realized I was moments away from plunging (a mere) maybe 5 meters onto damp (and therefore technically “soft”) cave soil - but still, an experience that might be “fun” for some, but for others, it's “an orthopedic event.”

So I gently asked if I could just try with my other leg.

Bing. Bam. Boom. Problem solved.

Moral of the story:

Young, old, male, female - listen to your gut.

Only you know your body's strengths and limitations.

Do not let other people manage your thoughts, your body, or which leg goes first.

Even if they seem very confident about it.

And finally - because I am not a monster - thank you to the lovely, well-meaning lady.

Truly. Your intentions were pure, your hiking spirit admirable, and your commitment to assisting strangers unwavering.

You were kind and patient, and no harm was done.

No bones were broken.

No bats gained a new roommate.

And I walked away with both dignity mostly intact and a freshly reinforced life lesson.

So thank you - for the help and for the reminder that even the nicest people can be confidently wrong… and that it’s still okay to politely say, “I’ve got this.”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be over here leading with my good leg and my better judgment.