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Turns out even something as wonderfully esoteric as risk can be explained through banal biological technicalities. It starts with the adrenal glands, two fleshy bits found on each kidney that serve as the trigger point for our fight-or-flight response. When entering a situation where peril—or more appropriately, risk—is in play, it is their job to release adrenaline into the blood-stream. Left alone adrenaline is not a good buzz, it is simply buzz—feelings of anxiousness and fear, or a very intense focus. In fact, people who thrive in the buzz state of adrenaline are commonly referred to as sociopaths. Noradrenalin is the yin to adrenaline’s yang—and it interacts almost solely with the parts of the brain that control emotions and good feelings. In an early study, one group was stressed without warning, and their response was virtually 100 percent adrenaline-based. As such, they responded like meatheads. The other group was given a warning prior to the stress and their response was far more weighted on the side of noradrenalin. They were far more able to cope with the situation and seemed to enjoy it. The takeaway is that with warning, as in a situation of selfimposed stress (like riding my bike into a storm), we are able to minimize adrenaline and maximize noradrenalin. It would seem then that extreme athletes are actually noradrenalin junkies, which just doesn’t sound as sexy as the alternative. Lemmings aren’t sexy either. But it seems that aside from these arctic rodents who amass and throw themselves off cliffs, humans may be the only species that intentionally puts itself at risk. The idea is that in a twist of Descartes logic, lemmings leap therefore they are, or perhaps, are not. Recently according to geneticists, humans take risks, therefore we are. The idea that some of us are simply hardwired to take risks has been supported by recent discoveries about our DNA. Extreme risk-takers display a change in the DRD4 (Dopamine Receptor D4) gene. The theory is that if you have this mutation, you’re more likely to do riskier things. The DRD4 gene is linked with dopamine, a brain chemical that, like noradrenalin, is a trigger for good feelings. Other dopamine triggers include food, sex, and the risky act of falling in love. Studies have also shown a similar dopamine effect brought on by deep meditative states, like those found during yoga practice. So perhaps it isn’t the thrill of risk, but rather the deep, zone-like concentration needed to handle it. Geoff Powter is a clinical psychiatrist, climber, mountaineer, and author whose book, Strange and Dangerous Dreams (The Mountaineers Press), offers an analysis of the motivations—and demons—that drove several well-known adventurers. Powter has concerns about too much credit being given to a risk gene. “The best way I have of understanding it, and I think it’s an important distinction for most outdoor folk, is that the risktaking gene best explains why people are going to try bungee jumping. It explains less well why you are going to become a committed BASE jumper or sky diver.” In AMC’s Guide to Outdoor Leadership, author Alex Kosseff defines risk as “…the potential for suffering some harm or loss.” Unfortunately, in terms of suffering and loss, it’s often the people who love risk-takers that end up bearing the brunt for their activities. In her groundbreaking and vividly written book, Where the Mountain Casts Its Shadow, the Personal Costs of Climbing, Maria Coffey broaches the touchy subject of those people who love risk-takers. Coffey, who lost boyfriend Joe Tasker in an accident on Everest, determines that people in these relationships are risk-takers-by-proxy and receive a residual hit—a high-by-association—and are not always the passive victims that the media plays them to be when tragedy strikes. Powter says psychology, for the longest time, failed to identify what risk-taking is all about. The thinking began to change in the last 10 to 15 years, he says, when researchers looked at the concept of mastery, a primary factor in risk-taking. “It’s why people do what they do and push further; it’s about the sense of mastery. You change your cognitive perception of what the risk is, because when you build your skills, you also think you’re more able to handle or control these risks now.” But can you really handle bigger risks? No, explains Powter, “except that maybe you’ll make a choice to go down one side of a glacier over another. The more experience that you have, the more control you feel. You can see this when you take an absolute beginner rock climbing, even in a very safe controlled sport climbing environment, and they can be very terrified. But let that person gain some experience and soon they feel like they can handle it.”
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Photo: iStock.
