I have become aware of an interesting phrase; "The map is not the territory."

For years, I had assumed that the phrase was somehow "military" in origin;  ...a warning not to confuse the picture of a place with the place itself.  I was half-right.

The phrase originated, interestingly, in the field of General Semantics - the study of words and how we use them.

I recall a speech that I heard John Updike deliver (...decades ago).
Mr. Updike noted that, if you place a meal before a hungry man/dog/lion/fish etc, we will all behave similarly.  However, if you place an incredibly detailed picture of a meal before the same sample group, only the man will lick his lips.
More notably, if you verbally describe a delicious meal to the entire group, only the man will respond.
And most telling, if you write a description of a meal, only the man is capable of reacting.

Man is the only being that is capable of seeing small squiggles of ink on paper and becoming hungry, or angry, or sad.  Man is the only creature that can see words on a page and fall in love with another person across the planet (...or across time).

However, the description of the thing is not the thing itself.

We live in a world, a society, that offers descriptions of virtually every conceivable event, feeling or emotion.  My youngest son has been shot scores of times.  Conversely, he has killed entire battalions of fierce alien creatures ...all the time, never leaving the confines of his bedroom.  He has gone toe-to-toe with many of the premier athletes of our time, Jordan, Tiger, Gretske, Manning without breaking a sweat.

But, as I try to remind him, The map is not the territory.

My office at home overlooks a quiet, tree-lined suburban street.  Flat and straight, it is entirely featureless.  To run in Houston is to know monotony.

Yet, any runner/biker can tell you that there is no such thing as a flat terrain.   As I leave my home to run, I can turn to the left or the right.  Typically, I turn to the left.
In turning left, I am left to battle a subtle but relentless uphill climb for the better part of the first mile (...probably a subtle political statement there somewhere).  The incline is insignificant (probably less than a 10 degree slope), but, as any runner will attest, my legs know that it is there.  

A casual bystander would be unaware of any topographical nuance, but the experience is what counts.  The experience is the experience is the experience. A equals A.
The map is not the territory.

On a bike, the experience is enhanced.  Incline is a factor.  Humidity is a factor (yes, humid air is more difficult to traverse).  Subtle road surface changes are a factor.  Wind is a huge factor; ...a 3-MPH wind is less than a breeze, but a rider cranking at 20 MPH suddenly falls to 17 MPH or zooms ahead at 23 MPH.
Much of Central- and West Texas is often referred to generically as "The Hill Country."  One cannot appreciate the appellation until you've encountered the rolling purgatory that is West Texas.   Only after you've negotiated one of these picturesque torture devices, can you truly appreciate that the map is not the territory.  It argues, convincingly, for the canonization of Lance Armstrong.

I know it sounds absurd, but I know swimmers that will refer to "fast pools" as opposed to "slow pools."  It would seem that some pools are designed so that you are swimming uphill.   Hey, just sayin'

The argument is simple yet elusive; it is the experience that truly matters.  So much of what we do today is derivative.  Pretend.   Virtual.
We risk our humanity if we choose to negate our senses for the merely cerebral.  

Go out there and experience.  Break a sweat, break a leg, kiss a girl, kiss a frog.  There is a world out there beyond your door.   It was there before you arrived and it will be there after you are gone.  It's probably worth a moment of your time to experience it.

Discard the map.  Feel the territory.