Women Can't Read Maps

Women Can't Read Maps

By John Dodds

There are some of you will agree that this truth is, in the words of Thomas Jefferson, "self-evident." And then there are some of you will dispute this truth vociferously (okay, I had to look that word up). I say that women can't read maps not based on some weird statistical analysis, mainly because I didn't do too well when I took statistics in college. No, I base my thesis on a couple anecdotes involving women from the club. The anecdote is a powerful form of proof, and I think you'll agree from these two examples. But first:

I know there are some of you who are probably thinking: "John gets lost in races, so who is he to talk?" Let me respond to that unfair and irrelevant criticism. It's true that I missed a turn at Bighorn several years ago and spent some quality time looking at the stars on Porcupine Ridge. But I wasn't lost. "Lost" is where you can't get to a known location. I was able to backtrack to the missed turn. Same thing happened at Heartland. And at Arkansas Traveler. Kettle Moraine was a bit different: there I somehow unknowingly left the course and got back on track by happenstance (rumor has it that I missed a couple miles of the course with this maneuver). But all those have nothing to do with reading a map. It just means I can't follow brightly-colored objects, like trail markings.

Anecdotes.

Anecdote #1: a woman wrote in an email: "I can't read a map." This is what is called a confession, and there is no stronger proof than an uncoerced confession. This statement was not coerced but was freely made in a public forum: an email list.

Anecdote #2: I showed a woman a map of the Bighorn course. Bighorn is known to be a difficult race given the elevation changes (I should know because I spent two sufferfests there). The course itself goes from east to west and at Dry Fork Ridge, the course turns to the northwest. At Footbridge (where you cross the Little Bighorn River), the course makes a sharp turn to the southwest and continues to Porcupine Ridge (the turnaround point). Using caveman pictographs reveals the following course:

And here's a link to the actual map I showed her: map

When she saw this map, her observation was: "That's not a hilly course." For you lawyers out there, I can only say, "I rest my case."

Statistics. I know these are only two examples, and you're probably thinking that this small sample is statistically insignificant. But if you want some statistical proof, here it is: there are about 375 members in the VHTRC and I'm guessing about one-fourth are women (281 men and 94 women). If each man in the club knows two women like I do who can't read maps, then there are 562 women in the club who can't read maps. But how can you have 562 women in the club who can't read maps when there are only 94 women in the club in the first place? This result reaffirms what I learned in college and that is that statistics are pretty much useless.

GPS. Anyway, what's a woman to do if she can't read a map? The two that I've mentioned here decided to "take it to the next level," and each got a Garmin GPS. To paraphrase them, "We don't need no stinkin' maps." I'm not sure I follow all this because I thought somehow that the GPS is related to some basic skill level in reading a map. Whether that's true or not, they both love their Garmins.

Final Thought. The more I thought about all this, I slowly came to the realization that what's good for the goose is good for the gander. I got my GPS in the mail two days ago. Whether I'll now be able to see a bright pink trail ribbon remains to be seen.

HAPPY TRAILS!