Ron Burgandy Confirms

390: That Time Ron Burgandy Confirmed My Wife Could See Into My Soul

Sitting on the couch near my wife the other night, I made a joke about how many open cans of fruit she had going—spoons leaning out of the top of them.

A few minutes later, she finally responded. “I’m worried about you. I’m worried that you’re looking for something you won’t find.”

I poked fun at a quirk. She dropped an existential bomb cyclone into my soul.

Bomb Dot Com Cyclone

From the dining room, Ron Burgundy reported, “Boy, that escalated quickly!”

Never get involved in a land war in Asia. Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. And, seriously: never get into a burn contest with Crystal.

At the time, I was searching through lodging and adventure options for my pending trip to Pokhara, Nepal. This is the shortest amount of time that I’ve ever spent planning an international adventure. Up until that day, I had never booked plane tickets for a vacation three weeks out, either. After returning home from Antarctica, though, I’ve grown wildly impatient to cross Asia off my continent list—to have all seven in the collection.

My wife is right, though: Pokhara won’t heal what’s broken in me.
It won’t send me home satiated.
It won’t cure any wanderlust.
It won’t shrink my bucket list.

I know this, because paragliding in five other countries hasn’t. Bungee jumping on two other continents didn’t. Neither did driving 185mph in an Indy car, riding in a 79mph Olympic bobsled, or jumping off the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere. Same goes for wake surfing, wind surfing, or longboard surfing. What about hydrospeeding? Nope. Snowmobiling? Negative. Alpine heli-hiking? Almost. But no.

So, why pursue adventures? If adrenaline rushes and global exploration don’t bring contentment and fulfillment, why bother? Why even go to Nepal?

In short: I like to see new mountains, and I enjoy paragliding. As a bonus, I’ll get to finally meet the woman who my wife and I sponsored when she lived in a Tibetan children’s home. I might even get to whitewater raft in some pretty gnarly rapids or skydive out of a helicopter. In short: I’ll be making & capturing cool memories and getting inspired before I head back to three months in the office that perennially run me ragged.

Thankfully, this time, that’s all I want out of the trip. I don’t expect God to change my life. I don’t assume I will find a part of me that was missing. I’m not expecting to uncover an Instagram goldmine or a viral Facebook video. It’s just my version of your trip to Disney World or the Outer Banks or New York City. I’m not trying to compete with my past vacations. I’m just doing me.

That wasn’t always the case, but I didn’t always have gray hair.

I’ll need another trip later but for the same reason everyone needs a vacation. It’ll be a scrumptious meal, but I’ll need to eat again. When I get home, I’ll snack on some Central Virginia rivers and trails—yummy Nutty Bars to tide me over until I can get some Italian Alps pizza this summer.

And maybe a few spoonfuls from my wife’s open fruit cans.

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