It was a bad idea from the start. I’ve had my fair share of bad ideas, but usually it’s watching Netflix instead of doing my homework, or treating my puppy to a bowl of milk (do not recommend), or countless other mistakes made unintentionally or in moments of stress. However, all bad ideas are not created equal, and every once in a while, I’m struck with a wave of carelessness, my confidence skyrockets and my brain assembles an array of suggestions which cannot possibly be productive, or even sensible. Because of this fleeting “God complex,” I find myself in rare but certainly questionable circumstances, some of which immediately humble my ego (or rather my id), and remind me of why rational people simply don’t do such things. About a month
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Coming from a suburban community, I rarely ever left my house in anything but a car or school bus. Thus, having to begin relying on a bike to move around would awaken an interaction with nature that I was looking forward to. And this has, in fact, been the case; biking through campus, especially on the different natural terrains, has brought out a more nature-loving and adventure-seeking part of me. Where driving is comfortable and fast and requires little effort, biking is tough and physical and bold. I’ve grown to seek more thrilling experiences while riding, and have certainly become more capable handling the bike as well, though not without the occasional slip or bump knocking me off every now and then. And yet, rather than make me a more capable and safer rider, the continuous experience and practice created the opposite effect, making me test my limits and challenge the boundaries of my abilities. In doing so, I produced the single most irresponsible, laughable, and awkward sequences ever carried out without photographic evidence for future generations to mock and …show more content…
I had just left Sadler dining hall, relieved to have gotten through a successful night at Swem preparing for midterm exams. I hopped on my bike as usual, and headed down the forest path running alongside Landrum Drive, looking forward to a round of “Parks and Recreation” followed by a good night’s sleep. Headphones in, wind blowing, I tried to fight off the cold by steering with my left hand and shoving my right hand in my pocket for warmth. As I sped down the paved narrow path, I couldn’t help but think about just how darn good I was at steering my bike one-handed, and with my left hand at that (I’m right-handed)! I even went so far as to compare myself to champion cyclists who know the ins and outs of riding under any circumstance you can think of, one hand or even none. While using no hands was a little above my skill set at the time, navigating through the woods with one hand in my pocket made me feel powerful, invincible, and my head grew almost too great to fit through the wooded landscape. I felt macho. Ah yes, that dreaded word which has led far too many young men to make far too many preventable
Coming from a suburban community, I rarely ever left my house in anything but a car or school bus. Thus, having to begin relying on a bike to move around would awaken an interaction with nature that I was looking forward to. And this has, in fact, been the case; biking through campus, especially on the different natural terrains, has brought out a more nature-loving and adventure-seeking part of me. Where driving is comfortable and fast and requires little effort, biking is tough and physical and bold. I’ve grown to seek more thrilling experiences while riding, and have certainly become more capable handling the bike as well, though not without the occasional slip or bump knocking me off every now and then. And yet, rather than make me a more capable and safer rider, the continuous experience and practice created the opposite effect, making me test my limits and challenge the boundaries of my abilities. In doing so, I produced the single most irresponsible, laughable, and awkward sequences ever carried out without photographic evidence for future generations to mock and …show more content…
I had just left Sadler dining hall, relieved to have gotten through a successful night at Swem preparing for midterm exams. I hopped on my bike as usual, and headed down the forest path running alongside Landrum Drive, looking forward to a round of “Parks and Recreation” followed by a good night’s sleep. Headphones in, wind blowing, I tried to fight off the cold by steering with my left hand and shoving my right hand in my pocket for warmth. As I sped down the paved narrow path, I couldn’t help but think about just how darn good I was at steering my bike one-handed, and with my left hand at that (I’m right-handed)! I even went so far as to compare myself to champion cyclists who know the ins and outs of riding under any circumstance you can think of, one hand or even none. While using no hands was a little above my skill set at the time, navigating through the woods with one hand in my pocket made me feel powerful, invincible, and my head grew almost too great to fit through the wooded landscape. I felt macho. Ah yes, that dreaded word which has led far too many young men to make far too many preventable