Archive for the adventure sports Category

… touch it, bring it, pay it, watch it, turn it, leave it, stop, format it.

Posted in adventure sports, coccooning on September 18, 2007 by moderngatsby

Trust me,” he says, “we are just as lazy as somebody else.” Words of a salesman that ricochet around my brain as the courier van reversed out of the gate, leaving me with my new Principia Rex bike and a feeling akin to buyers-remorse to boot. I had bought it about 2mnths ago when my bank-balance was a lot higher than my resolve to cycle my way back into some kind of fitness. I figured it was easier that hitting the pavements and running slowly.It couldn’t have come at a worse time. A roller coaster week that has you working to the bone one day and sitting with nothing to do the next, I have found comfort in Earl grey tea and eating. There were whole four-season pizzas, upsized burger meals and endless cheese/rocket- salad sandwiches that took the edge off the stress. That and endless reruns of The Godfather Trilogy of movies. Oh and the House of Cards trilogy too.

So, after an impromptu breakfast with my parents at my Mom’s favourite new shopping centre I called up a friend to take him up on his offer of joining him on his outride that afternoon. I put the bike into the back of the Land Rover, un-wrapped the riding helmet, searched for my protective glasses used for polo and headed out to his townhouse on his partially developed golfing estate. Since I was passing my favourite barista, I had to stop in but instead of my usual latte I got the frozen version instead. Less calories and fat I’m told.

I arrived at his place, my first time there, and marvelled at his view of a recently converted wasteland into a very attractive golfing estate on the East Rand with its own boating club to boot. We headed out towards the agri-holdings and the rough and tough terrain. I could taste it on my tongue, well the grit anyway after my first tumble, and it had a taste of me with an oozing knee scrap. The first 5mins were the toughest and the remaining 55mins akin to torture. But as Busta Rhymes sang on my iPod, “… touch it.”

At the end of it, despite the bitching and moaning, I know that tomorrow I will be sore but sated. This is the first step towards something that I need desperately. A kind of physical discipline needed for achieving my newly set goal of triathlon. Not that I imagine myself being an Iron-Man but at least it gets me out of staying in bed for whole weekends at a time doing nothing but watching reruns and overeating.