Powderpuff.
I'm surrounded by bad-asses.
You have your elite-level bad-asses, and their bad-assitude is just generally an accepted fact. You understand that you're in the presence of demigods, and feel grateful for the association. They go out and do the bad-ass things required to reach their bad-ass goals, aided by their bad-ass genetics and a lifetime of bad-ass experiences. That's just what they do.
I could never be on that level. Even at my physical peak, my muscles could never twitch that way. Genetically I'm just not made up of the same stuff. I've come to accept that the only way I'm superior to anyone, and I do mean anyone, else is in my level of delusion. It can be a powerful driver for performance, as long as it doesn't run smack up against actual potential, at which time reality starts to create cracks in the delusion.
Still, a hard-headed willful ignorance of inadequacies is my main asset, so I leverage the piss out of it. I'd like to believe that I can slam my head into a brick wall better and with more conviction than nine out of ten guys out there.
Then I get shown that even in my go-to demographic, I'm lacking.
The latest indication was in the form of a Facebook post.
I ski raced with this lady for years, and even though she was quite a bit my senior, we were pretty close in ability. Every year we'd bet a six pack of good beer against a bottle of good wine on who would beat the other more times during a given season. Initially she won consistently, then we were more or less even, and eventually I started sucking slightly less and won fairly regularly. Through all of this, I respected her competitive spirit and drive to improve. She'd probably clean my clock today on a racecourse, because she's still out there bashing gates.
The weather flipped recently, from snow back to temperatures in the high 30s to low 40s. It's been rainy and windy, melting the thin snow and ice. Once the snow started falling, I started riding the trainer exclusively, trying to get into the rhythm needed to sustain the activity for the winter. When the weather flipped, I considered grabbing the bike and going for a quick ride. What stopped me was the gusting wind and light showers that accompanied the warmer temperatures. I told myself that I was going to stay the course and stick with the trainer, because it just wasn't worth it.
Then I see her posts of road rides on some of the most exposed roads in the area. It wasn't like she was hiding in the trees on some fat bike, putzing around Kincaid. While I was in my cozy little sweat box, she was out their playing Don Quixote with the wind and loving it. She probably weighs less than her road bike, so wind affects her more than us "planted" types. She may not have an elite-level genetic makeup, but she is full on bad-ass when it comes to getting out there and enjoying life. You have to respect that. I kicked myself for not being out there too, that my own Quixotic tendencies weren't strong enough to push me out the door on what likely would be the end of possible slick tire, road riding conditions. The ice and snow was gone, and with it any real chance of a sliding fall, but in that moment I just couldn't muster the drive to put the rubber on the road.
I'm surrounded by bad-asses, and I'm a powderpuff.
You have your elite-level bad-asses, and their bad-assitude is just generally an accepted fact. You understand that you're in the presence of demigods, and feel grateful for the association. They go out and do the bad-ass things required to reach their bad-ass goals, aided by their bad-ass genetics and a lifetime of bad-ass experiences. That's just what they do.
I could never be on that level. Even at my physical peak, my muscles could never twitch that way. Genetically I'm just not made up of the same stuff. I've come to accept that the only way I'm superior to anyone, and I do mean anyone, else is in my level of delusion. It can be a powerful driver for performance, as long as it doesn't run smack up against actual potential, at which time reality starts to create cracks in the delusion.
Still, a hard-headed willful ignorance of inadequacies is my main asset, so I leverage the piss out of it. I'd like to believe that I can slam my head into a brick wall better and with more conviction than nine out of ten guys out there.
Then I get shown that even in my go-to demographic, I'm lacking.
The latest indication was in the form of a Facebook post.
I ski raced with this lady for years, and even though she was quite a bit my senior, we were pretty close in ability. Every year we'd bet a six pack of good beer against a bottle of good wine on who would beat the other more times during a given season. Initially she won consistently, then we were more or less even, and eventually I started sucking slightly less and won fairly regularly. Through all of this, I respected her competitive spirit and drive to improve. She'd probably clean my clock today on a racecourse, because she's still out there bashing gates.
The weather flipped recently, from snow back to temperatures in the high 30s to low 40s. It's been rainy and windy, melting the thin snow and ice. Once the snow started falling, I started riding the trainer exclusively, trying to get into the rhythm needed to sustain the activity for the winter. When the weather flipped, I considered grabbing the bike and going for a quick ride. What stopped me was the gusting wind and light showers that accompanied the warmer temperatures. I told myself that I was going to stay the course and stick with the trainer, because it just wasn't worth it.
Then I see her posts of road rides on some of the most exposed roads in the area. It wasn't like she was hiding in the trees on some fat bike, putzing around Kincaid. While I was in my cozy little sweat box, she was out their playing Don Quixote with the wind and loving it. She probably weighs less than her road bike, so wind affects her more than us "planted" types. She may not have an elite-level genetic makeup, but she is full on bad-ass when it comes to getting out there and enjoying life. You have to respect that. I kicked myself for not being out there too, that my own Quixotic tendencies weren't strong enough to push me out the door on what likely would be the end of possible slick tire, road riding conditions. The ice and snow was gone, and with it any real chance of a sliding fall, but in that moment I just couldn't muster the drive to put the rubber on the road.
I'm surrounded by bad-asses, and I'm a powderpuff.
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