Intrinsic Motivation

I watched a short webinar recently about finding your passions. It was done by this girl who is sort of a life coach and writes about that exact topic. I won't get into all the details, but one thing that stuck out to me was her definition and explanation of intrinsic versus extrinsic motivations. I think I already knew what they were, but never had them explained so concisely. Intrinsic motivation means you are motivated by the work itself, while extrinsic motivation is motivated by the outcome.

An example: If you love your work as an artist, you may not be so much as interested in the final product of the painting you just made, as much as you are in the process it took to get there. Each brush stroke has meaning. All the thoughts come together to create the mural. Yes, you are satisfied with the piece of art you show to people. But it holds more meaning to you because of the process it took to get there, and you enjoyed every minute of it.

In contrast, extrinsic motivations are incentives used to get to the end. You want to hurry and get it over with so you can move on to something different/better. More money is the obvious one. If you made a higher salary, do you think you will be happier? Extrinsic motivation thinks of the end. You want to sell as many products to make the most profit to make the company thrive to make the boss happy to get you a raise. Do you enjoy selling the product? Or are you trying to make a buck? Obviously, I am one-sided in my perspective, but I still participate in the incentives program.

Today's culture seems to be fueled by extrinsic motivation, except for the occasional guilt trip by a superior that you should enjoy your job, which in turn can cause another extrinsic motivation to act happy to get your boss off your back. Working on commission is supposed to encourage the employee to sell more because the employee should be motivated to make more money.

Sports are another example. Every football team wants to win the Superbowl. But how many athletes love to practice? I believe it is those who embrace every aspect of the game, including the practice, the sweat, the team camaraderie that are intrinsically motivated. When I swam in college, it wasn't until my senior year that I became intrinsically motivated. I actually loved going to practice. I enjoyed the way my body sliced through the water after working my body into shape. The pain was worth it because I felt better, stronger, afterwards. Of course I was motivated to win, but I think it was the intrinsic motivation that drove me to swim my personal best at the end of the season.

I have been able to enjoy intrinsic motivation in my climbing as well. Many people know I climb, but I think few people (other than those who climb) understand why. From an outside perspective, I am not gaining anything. There is no prize at the end. For 95% of the people who climb, it is not an occupation. There's no money or fame involved. Ah, but these are extrinsic. Climbing is largely an intrinsic sport, something foreign to our society. Yes, some people climb to be the best, or at least better than "him" or "her". But I think the large majority does it because it is fun. The feeling of using your body, working through problematic sequences, soaking in the sunshine, being encouraged by your peers, groaning together when you fall. When the competition is removed, intrinsic motivation remains. And I love it. Why? Because of the process. I may climb 5.9 or 5.14d, but the process is the same nonetheless. We are meant to enjoy the process of getting to the top.

From Sweat to Sweatshirts

Fall is here, or so it seems. Two days ago we had the air conditioning running for most of the day, but today Rebs had had a sweatshirt on for about half the day. Seasons in Korea are like that. And the funny thing to me is that the Koreans know exactly when it is. I remember having a conversation with our climbing gym owner a few years ago. We were making plans to go climbing a week or so later. He checked his calendar and then shook his head, saying, "No. Monsoon season." We asked him when it started and he told us in about a week. Sure enough, a week later it was pouring down buckets. Then we had about 2 weeks of normal conditions, though a bit humid. And then typhoon season came for 2 more weeks. Apparently the weather here is just as predictable as the driving-- meaning that initially it seems like total chaos. But after you've been driving in the country, you know exactly what's going to happen without the warning of a turn signal (an Asian sign of weakness).

Rebs is elated. She was just wishing Fall to be here, and now it is. We have the next month lined up with climbing, camping, seeing old friends who are leaving the country. It is definitely the time to be outside. I was reminded recently that we ought to seek peace and joy in our lives. This weather makes it easy to do just that.

It also happens to be apple and eggplant season right now. We eat our vegetables seasonally over here, picking them up cheap and fresh at the daily farmer's market in downtown Gyeongsan. You can get 3-5 eggplants for about $1, and i got about 15 apples for $3. It's great incentive for creativity and experimentation with new recipes. Rebs recently mastered her first attempt at baba ghanoush (aka eggplant hummus), while I currently have a crock pot of what will hopefully turn out to be some delicious apple butter. i make a point to save many of our glass bottles for this sort of occasion.

A big thing going on back home is that my brother-in-law, Cass Harris, is trying to record and produce his first album via Kickstarter. I love this guy a lot and think he is a very talented musician and has something special to share with the world. His songs are soulful, not your run-of-the-mill anything. I highly recommend going and checking out what he's doing.

News

Yesterday morning, I made an important phone call. It was important because the results strongly affect what we'll be doing in the next 6 months. If you didn't know this already, Rebs and I are planning to move home to the United States. After 4 years of Korean living, we're ready to move on to the next chapter. Think babies, family, school, careers, none of which have we been pursuing very heavily while over here.

My phone call was to the Cherokee Nation EMS program based out of Tahlequah, Oklahoma. I have been planning to take their EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) course for some time now, and possibly the Paramedic course thereafter. Specifically, I was calling to get dates in mind. Up until now, Rebs and I had been hoping to do some traveling over the winter, then head to the States for a 1-2 month road trip for climbing at a few places we have never been. This phone call changed all that. The EMT course starts early March, will last for 6 months, and then the Paramedic course starts just after the EMT course finishes.

My understanding is that if I want to take the Paramedic course, this is the best time to take it because it is only offered every 18 months, the duration of the course. And since the two are lined up next to each other, I wouldn't have to wait after my EMT course.

There are so many variables in the mix right now that I don't want to talk too much more about them until they are finalized. But I guess this was all to say that we'll be home sooner than you might have thought.

Home Sweet Home?

As I look through the last of our photos from the trip, sitting here in my living in Korea, I know that our vacation is over. We still have a week, thankfully, to get prepared for the school semester and check things off our list like, "Pick up Epic". While sitting on a bus to transfer terminals in Narita (Tokyo, Japan), I noticed someone was touching my leg. No, not a creepy guy or an accidental bump by someone who says "excuse me", but a 10-year-old Korean boy, still wearing his neck pillow from the plane, oblivious that he is breaking my personal space. Why? Because there is no personal space in Korea, or Asia in general. He continues to bump my leg as we ride the bus. Welcome home.

As we got in our car last night, I sat in the driver seat feeling cramped, thinking how small our car feels after having driven a rental for a month. I feel like I'm sitting on a phone book. I go to start the car. Oh yeah, it's a stick shift. As we drive through the side street of our neighborhood, a car pulls out of an apartment complex and cuts me off, then continues to drive slowly. Your car is small, therefore you never have the right of way.

It is these small idiosyncrasies that remind me that I am home, back in the "land of the morning calm". But I find myself more irked by such things than I used to be. I always used to subscribe to the idea that we choose live and work in a country other than our own, therefore we subscribe to their rules and culture. But after nearly 4 years, I am growing tired of it. Friends we have here have talked about knowing when it's time to leave. You can just sense it in a person, this restlessness that grows in agitation over simple things that make no difference individually in the big picture. But it is the buildup of getting cut off, shouted at, or whatever happenings that leave a person feeling undignified--they become the straw that breaks the camel's back.

And so it is with myself that I can sense my mood is different. My friends here are great, my work load light, the beauty of the mountains all around us. But I know it is time for us to move on. It will be a challenge this semester to stay positive, to focus on the good, and not to itch for the day we head back to the States. If you pray, please do so for me in this.

Yesterday was an adventure. It was our last climbing day in Skaha before heading back across the border to Oregon. We had gotten up early, hiked up to the Great White wall, and enjoyed a crap shoot of climbing with an early morning start (early at least by our standards). Our first two sport routes had turned out to be duds. Rebs has this tendency to find easier-looking routes that turn out to be extremely difficult, which is exactly what our “warm up” route turned out to be. We definitely got warm, and moved on to find another one that was better. My choice turned out to be a diagonally bolted one that remained awkward most of the way, then finished with some nice, slopey ledges (please read with sarcasm). Not exactly a great route either. I think Rebs actually called it the worst route she’d ever been on.
So since our sport routes were turning out bad, we decided to try our hands at some traditional-style crack climbing. This is a relatively newer style of climbing for me, and especially for Rebs. I thought the route was phenomenal. A perfect seam that you could at least get finger tips into the whole way up with a couple pumpy spots to keep it exciting. But Rebs had a different experience. On any crack climbs I’ve put her on previously (quite a few here at Skaha over the past week or so), she’s managed to avoid using the crack and scramble her way up in some ridiculous fashion. But this time, she had to use it. Not to mention the exposure on the route. (It is at the top of a massive valley.) She worked her way up eventually, refusing to quit like the stubborn girl I love and adore. But the route was so long, she had to rappel twice, the first time to some anchors she couldn’t see from above. She did really well not to hyperventilate or pass out, but the anxiety left her exhausted. Yet, she still managed to have enough energy to belay me on a really cool route called “Test of the Ironman”, a very long and reachy route, hence the name. The sun was starting to hit the rock, so it was about time to move on.
We had some lunch and then hiked down to another area to rest in the shade. After a bit of rest and some bee swatting, we looked at the guidebook and I pointed out two different options that looked good to me. We decided to go up and look at the first and then make a decision.
The first route turned out to be two pitches, a runout, 4 bolt, 30 meter climb to a ledge, then an easy 5.9 trad route. Rebs said it looked good, so we decided to do it. Only when I was racking up did she point out that this was her first (voluntary) multi-pitch trad route.
The top pitch turned out to be the gem of it all, with a little bit of perfect hand jamming that even Rebs enjoyed. She was about halfway up the route when she heard a distant rumbling and turned around to see a massive thunderhead moving in on our cloudless blue sky. She began climbing more quickly while I did my best to stay quiet and let her enjoy the route, although my mind kept flashing back to the WFR couse (Wilderness First Responder) I’d taken in college and all the information and statistics they’d given us, essentially saying that on a rock face, attached to a bolt and a rope is the last place you want to be when a thunderstorm hits. I also thought about how a few days earlier, we had decided to take our rain fly off the tent since we were in such a dry climate and wanted to cool things down faster.
Fortunately, Rebs had no hiccups and made it back to the belay station shortly, from which we rappelled again to the ground. A beautiful route, just a little rushed. We scurried to pack up our gear then, speed hiked/jogged our way back to the parking lot. The huge blue-grey cloud loomed just East of us as we drove the 15 minutes back to our campsite. Like angry bees, we zipped around and got the tarp back on the tent and all our junk off the picnic table in a matter of minutes. The cloud was rising over the rock nearest to us when we decided not to stick around for the showers, but to head into town for a few errands to prep for the long drive to Oregon the next day.
In town, the streets were already wet, as if we had just missed the downpour. We could see the rain and lightning just North of us a few miles. I pumped gas as it sprinkled rain, my first shower of any kind in a few days. Meanwhile, Rebs went next-door and found a restaurant attached to a hotel that has free wifi, so we split a sampler appetizer for dinner and checked email. Upon our return to the campsite, our wonderful host Dale said he’d sat at his picnic table working a crossword while the storm rolled through. He said he counted ten drops. All that work for nothing! But we saw it as a sign that we were meant to be done because we got all our errands done, the camp mostly packed up in 5 minutes, and still had time for a beer and good conversation with Dale and “Gloria”. It was a great end to this part of our journey. We will never forget you Skaha.

Home-Bodied Travelers

Is there such a thing? That is exactly what we are. We like to travel around and see different places, but we don’t particularly like the constant packing, unpacking, and reorganizing of it all. That’s why we decided to stay in Skaha. Last night we kept debating on whether to go to Squamish in the morning. We even played “Rock, Paper, Scissors” (the way Koreans solve all their problems) and ended up with Squamish as the winner. But after some more discussion later, we decided to stay right where we are until heading down to meet up with Bob and Connie, giving us about 4 more days including today.
Here are a few reasons why:
1) We want more time to climb. Skaha has over 1000 routes, enough to go months without ever getting on the same route twice. We’ve found all different styles from slabby, positive climbs to juggy overhangs, sport, trad, runout, and over-bolted. You definitely can’t say Skaha’s “not my style” of climbing because it’s all-encompassing. And now that we’ve been up there a few days, we’re getting a good feel for the area, which makes it easy to get where we want and not get lost anymore.
2) You can’t beat this campsite. Seriously! I know I’ve already raved about it in previous posts, but it’s perfect. Not crowded, clean toilets, great hosts who are friendly and like to chat, but are great for giving you your privacy too. The view is spectacular. We’re right on the water, which is the perfect temperature for the now hot summer days. And at nights, it cools down to the mid 60s—perfect for snuggling into your sleeping bag.
3) We don’t like being rushed. If there was one statement to summarize our goals and motivations, that would be it. If we were to go to Squamish, we felt like we’d get there, have time to look around, and then have to leave before ever getting a good feel for the place. I hate feeling like a tourist. I know that going on vacation required some degree of tourism, but I feel I can minimize those feelings if I spend enough time somewhere. You get to know some of the locals and the secret hot spots, etc. and it really helps. I feel like there is so much more to gain from such an experience versus driving through, staying for a day, and taking a few photos along the way. Sure, it might make for some nice photography, but it’s just a photo. To me, the photo becomes so much richer when there are memories attached.
4) It saves us money. This trip hasn’t exactly been on a shoestring, so: driving ($1.32/liter) + 2 ferry rides = lots’o’cash. I’m sure we could afford it, but I guess the bottom line is that we’ll get more out of our experience.
There are also plenty of things to do on our rest days here. Today, we shopped and did laundry in the morning, then took the afternoon to find me a new pair of flip flops. We walked downtown some. Rebs got coffee; I got ice cream. The peach festival was going on, so we walked through it. It felt like a fair without the animals or rides. Basically a lot of tasty, very greasy food and a stage. Nothing was going on at that time, so we headed on to the movies, a great way to avoid the afternoon heat. After the movie, we headed back here and opted for a very light dinner of watermelon and veggies with hummus after having gorged ourselves on popcorn and pop only an hour before. Now here we lay in the tent, waiting for the air to cool, watching the moon set low beyond the mountain pass across the lake. In tomorrow lies the hope of some more good climbing or bathing in the lake, soaking up the sun, reading books, or visit one of the many wineries in the area. We have no real plan. But sometimes, the best plan is not having one.

Lost & Found - Part 2

We're still at the campsite with no electricity and haven't made the time to trek into town until now. I'm writing from the public library here in Penticton. Our original plan to continue on to Squamish got delayed by a day of sickness and the sheer awesomeness of this place. We're heading back to the rock tomorrow for one more day before heading to Squamish.

So... back to the story. We found a campsite and made ourselves at home. Lakeside, in the shade, fire pit, tent spot ON the lake--literally it's about 3 steps from our door. We haven't had rain since we set up the tent, but a few splatters of bird poop. Yeah, so it's pretty much the best campsite you could imagine. And the campground hosts are funny. Dale and Hannah (though Rebs finds 'Gloria' a more suitable name for her) are wonderful, keeping unwanted loiterers out, checking up on you every now and then. They're both semi-retired, I would guess in their early to mid 60s, have a camper and everything imaginable to go with it because they're here for 3 months. They get pretty upset when people try to use our site to get access to the water. We don't really mind that much, but they sure do.

Some fun facts: I've swam across the lake twice now, though the reeds are getting a bit tall now that the water level has gone down a few inches. There is a wonderful ice cream parlor we frequent often named "Tickleberry's". Rebs likes to say the name over and over. Our bodies are very tan. We lay on our spare air mattress in the water, using a piece of rope as a sort of lasso for the mattress and making an anchor to a rock. I successfully finished Born to Run in about a week. Very good book. We got lost... sort of... hiking out of the park one day.

It all started as a regular morning hiking in to climb. Rebs found what appeared to be a good area in the guidebook, but was about as far away as you can get from the parking lot. So we said we'd hike in and then work our way back. But the problem was, we couldn't find the trail that led there, at least not all the way. We'd go one way, then back another, unable to decipher where we were on the map. Eventually, Rebs found the right trail and we made it out there. Had the whole place to ourselves, that's for sure. By the time we got set up for our first climb of the day, it had already been over 2 hours. We got 2 routes in before stopping for lunch. Reassessing the day and our expectations, we decided to follow the trail around (it's a loop) to take a look at some of the areas we hadn't seen already. We made our way around and spent a couple hours hiking and looking at rock and setting up the hammock to rest for a bit.

When we decided to hike out was when it happened. There happen to be all these meandering side trails that go off in different directions all the time, I'm assuming are shortcuts to different cliffs because there is climbing all over the place. So if you don't know where you're going, it can get a little...interesting? So we took a wrong turn. No big deal. At least we were on a trail... which led to another trail... which led into some bramble bushes. And did I mention that it was getting later now, maybe 6:00. Rebs began to panic because we weren't seeing trail signs. We couldn't figure out where we were on the map, so therefore we must be lost, right? In my opinion, we weren't lost, only misplaced for the moment. (This is what I often tell Rebs when I can't find something) Lost is when something is gone for good. We were definitely not lost.

Soon, we began seeing trail signs, and an outhouse. After another 45 minutes, we were safe and sound at the car. No broken sandals this time, though we were both wearing flip flops, having not expected to hike a total of 5+ miles that day. That's what we estimated once we made it to the parking lot. We slept soundly that night, let me assure you.