yet perfect for a ride... rolling out in a few; hit me up if you're coming.
and brief blurb by Kyle von Hoetzendorff over at Embrocation
"I do not consider my self an athlete; rather I prefer to think of myself as more of a fitness hobbyist or an exercise layman. An athlete in my mind is akin to an ascetic, roaming the forest primeval finding sustenance in hope, constantly searching for the answer to their ultimate question. In the case of a true athlete, and this is only an assumption, the ultimate question has to be how far can I push myself, what are my furthest limits, when I find them will I by able to surpass them, repeat? Ego, over-bearing parents, and self-esteem issues can help to get one started, even work to sustain ambition but in the end the athlete’s purity is his or her own curiosity as to what is possible. To those out there that follow this path, my hat is off too you, fortunate or not I do not consider myself to be one of your ilk.
Why wax philosophical about the tenants of athleticism? The other morning I found myself not wanting to go for a bike ride; not wanting to get out and pedal, face the wind, the traffic, and the hurt. I realized that for athletes, true athletes, this must happen with horrible frequency. I am out on my bike, pedaling, musing and yet each moment hurt, even the downhill hurt.
The wind felt like it was tacking against me, my tires felt low, children seemed to be running out of their houses to point and laugh, adults seemed to be walking out of their houses to point and laugh, (note that they didn’t even care enough to run), underage girls paid no attention; underage boys felt no threat.
On top of all of this I got lost in the land of a couple acres, tin storage shacks, and hobbyist chainsaw artists. I should point out that I use the term lost here loosely. I wasn’t transported into the middle of the Taiga amongst the slender pines and the white snow. I had my little computer phone and I was still nominally inside the Portland metro area. I am not talking about being physically lost, I didn’t really know what I was doing and why I was out there. While Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich bantered about the physical realities of sound, the bone to water to hair connection that lets us listen, I was zoning out. Their radio show just another hum on top of hum on top of hum. I was instead thinking about the next hill, the next light, the next turn. I was at the point where you begin to hope for red lights, when you are ready to quit after each pedal stroke. I was just shy of defeated.
When I got home I didn’t feel like Conan the Barbarian wielding his death-bringer, a solitary warrior brooding atop a throne, depressed at the thought that all foes have been defeated. Nor did I feel like the worlds treadmill, to be walked over time and time again wholly destroyed. I felt satisfied and inspired knowing that I would go ride against my better judgment again, athlete or not."