B x 3
I’m on the bus to Paihia, the first leg of a two-day ride to Cape Reinga. At the crack of dawn on Sunday I begin the Tour Aotearoa. That’s the plan, anyway. As you might guess, it’s been on my mind a lot, and my thoughts keep looping back to three people: Bayes, Buress, and Bein.
Don Bein was my grandfather. I could write volumes about him, but for present purposes I’ll just describe him as an irrepressible optimist who often said—and firmly believed—“if you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.“
Hannibal Buress is one of my favorite comedians. He says he doesn’t use a napkin at restaurants, and when people ask him why he doesn’t use a napkin, he says “because I believe in myself.”
(Here’s a clip of Buress including the napkin bit. Tragically, the YouTubes have nothing from Don Bein. Believe me, the world is poorer for it.)
Thomas Bayes gives us Bayesian reasoning, which says you should form your beliefs based on evidence, and when new evidence presents itself you should reevaluate your beliefs. For example, if you’ve never met me before and I tell you I’m going to attempt to bike the Tour Aotearoa, you might estimate my chance of success at 50/50. You have no more evidence to go on than you’ve got on a coin flip. Then, with each passing blog entry from my Tasmanian Trail follies, you’d lower your confidence in the belief accordingly.
I’m thinking about these three B’s as I read the wildly optimistic itinerary I sketched out for myself almost a year ago, when the TA started shifting from flight of fancy to hey, maybe I should give this a shot. I never promised anyone I was going to finish this thing. I only said I would attempt it. But the daily mileage goals in that early itinerary exceed every day of the Tasmanian Trail. By a lot. My shortest day on the TA is 20% longer than my longest day on the TT.
And yes, I had some pretty serious growing pains on the TT. And yes, I’ve learned from them. (Though the TA is certain to deliver more.) I made mistakes there that could have been disastrous and weren’t, and I won’t make those again. But I will make new mistakes, at least that bad and maybe worse, because that’s just how life is (or at least how mine is).
Don Bein says if I don’t believe in myself, that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Buress says believe in yourself when what’s at stake is elementary and the consequences of failure are trivial. (At least that’s the moral I see in a thirty-second bit he never intended a philosopher to scrutinize.) Bayes says believe in yourself until the evidence says you shouldn’t.
I am a Bein but also a Bayesian. The evidence says I cannot complete this ride by the end of the year, and I find that evidence convincing. But I also believe that conviction is too heavy to add to an already overloaded bike. She has no room for it. Neither should I.
Enter Buress. The consequences of napkinless dining are trivial. In bikepacking I’ve already flirted with not-so-trivial consequences, and I have to keep reminding myself New Zealand poses greater risks than Tasmania. It’s much bigger, with shockingly few people to get to you if you need help. But objectively speaking, biking to work is far more hazardous than cruising around the countryside where no drivers can hit you.
The fact is, Bein, Bayes, and Buress all have it right. I don’t believe I can do this, but that belief can’t sink me because it’s a probability, not a heartfelt conviction, and in any case the consequences of failure aren’t much higher than napkinless eating. The whole point of coming down here was to attempt something beyond my ability.
So the conclusion I reach is this: I’m going to attempt the ride anyway, but if you had a hundred bucks to bet on whether I finish, bet $90 against me. Maybe there will be tailwinds instead of headwinds. Maybe the navigation problems are behind me. Bayes will caution you against claiming 100% certainty, but 90% isn’t out of reach. That’s where I’m at.
But I’m going into the arena anyway, to dare greatly. Worst Bikepacker in New Zealand award, meet your next contender.
