Don’t make epic a logical impossibility
logical
/ˈlɒdʒɪk(ə)l/
adjective
of or according to the rules of logic or formal argument.
"a logical impossibility"
‘Something is wrong with this mountain bike.’
‘Everything looks right but something doesn’t feel right. ‘
These thoughts occur to me as I’m whipping between Red Gums at break neck pace during a light Autumn rain shower.
The only thing between me and grievous bodily harm; around 2 squared centimetres of rubber.
I’m feeling alive.
Deadly in darkest black.
All beautiful, sleek lines made from carbon, metal and rubber.
My new mountain bike hides a secret.
It’s bi-polar.
On ascent: sure-footed Sherpa-like traction.
Descent? Prone to serious front-end skittishness. Like a thoroughbred tasked with leading the pack mule trail through The Andes.
I own the Kanye West of 29er hardtails.
Extended periods of uninterrupted contemplation being a luxury rarely afforded to those who regularly prioritise creative expression before capital; I ponder this problem when I can find the time…
‘Maybe I’ve got to spend 10,000 hours or so on this bike to retrain my mind-body connection before it will start to behave itself? I’m averaging around 4 hours in the saddle a week so that should take around… f*cking forever!’
‘Have I lost my touch? I’ve been away from mountain bikes for years now, having formerly sworn off them after my last major mishap... The pull of being “Uncle Mikey, who I learned to do EPIC stuff with.” to my 12-year-old nephew; too great a current to fight.
'Perhaps I’m not confident enough anymore?'
‘Am I getting too old for this sh*t?’
Logical brain kicks in: ‘Haaaang on. What about the handlebars? If they’re too low for my riding style that’s sure to be throwing out the feel of the bike. That’ll take like 10 minutes to fix…’
Tinkering commences
‘Crazy Horse’ is magically and radically transformed.
I’m leaning hard into a fast, hard-packed berm. Feeling total confidence in the front-end as my mass plummets through the cranks and into the ground.
I playfully pop off a tree stump, seeing new lines with new eyes. I adore this feeling of perfect balance in the air, when every bit of me is where it should be in relation to my iron steed. I push the nose into the landing and I'm rewarded with that comforting slap'-feel of both wheels meeting earth at exactly the same time.
A giddy grin plastered across my face...
It would have been so easy to have bought into my imaginative thoughts and stopped riding my mountain bike.
The likelihood of doing epic stuff if we buy into every story our imagination tells us?
"a logical impossibility"
Be your EPIC
We out. 🙇
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