So I’ve been doing a bit of mountain biking this week. Every day, in fact. I’m a tired old man.
Monday we rode the river trail, and the deer fence trail. Tuesday was green canyon plus, Wednesday was identical to Monday, and today we did the deer fence trail and green canyon. We is a mixture of Justin, Joel, Tom, and Leslie, all folks I work with (I’m a tired, old man, but a very lucky one). I wouldn’t be riding this much, or as fast as I ride, if it wasn’t for these folks.
Today on the way up Green Canyon we were talking about ‘extreme’ athletes. Folks who push things to the edge, and then jump off that edge, screaming like a mad man. These folks do the really crazy stuff. They jump off cliffs, climb cliffs, ride bikes of cliffs. Really, anything with a cliff involved. It got me thinking about two different epitaphs;
- He died doing what he loved.
- He did what he loved for a long time, and then died.
I’m thinking the latter is the one I want on my tombstone. It’s not as poetic, but hey, I am kind of partial to it. So I’m taking it a bit on the easy side.
I did feel bad that I skipped breakfast. I didn’t do it intentionally, I just didn’t think about it. The end result was about 3/4 the way up Green Canyon I hit a wall. I just couldn’t keep up with Justin and Leslie. I really wanted to, because I had done a half way decent job up until that point, but my body was whining like a 3 year old who has just been told Santa was behind bars, and Christmas is canceled.
So today, this tired old man is going down to Sam’s Club and buying a whole lot of granola bars.