Whenever a particularly difficult section (rocks, roots, log jump, ruts, etc.) presented itself, each rider, to a man, took the easier way out when there was one. The smoother path, the straighter one, the less challenging one. Except me. I continually chose the least favorable, least hospitable of the routes. Sometimes this slowed me down, sometimes I fell down. Occasionally I came out ahead of everyone while they took a circuitous path around some obstacle that I clambered over.
I guess it's human nature to take the path of least resistance. Especially when trying to impress your buddies with how fast you are. Somehow I couldn't help but feel I would be cheating myself, doing a disservice to my riding by cherry picking a route. I had to do things the hard way.
I tried not to look too deeply into this, because then it starts to become a scary metaphor for your whole life and sheds light on a lot of things that might be better off left in the dark. The unexamined life may not be worth living, but the over scrutinized one is not much fun either.
|Nobody else wanted to ride through the slippery creek bed. I was drawn to it.|
|Everything is a little harder on 27 year old equipment. But no less fun.|