Need for Speed

Am writing this while watching the Olympic hopefuls sail along rainy London streets on their bikes. The women are so fast. I love sports where you go fast, like skiing and biking.

The other day I was riding my bike to work and there was a woman running faster than I was riding on my bike. That was one fast runner.

There’s used to be a myth that only men liked the adrenaline rush of the high-speed chase. But women (and kids) do too. It’s a human instinct to push our physical limits and thrill with the ride. We were born to run.

And now that I’ve admitted my own need for speed, let me post a couple of pictures from my long walk in the Adirondacks.

While I love to run and ride and go fast, it’s easier to snap a pic when you walk and amble and go slow. It’s easier to savor the moment when you slow it all down.

To catch a good photo, you have to pause to frame it. To enjoy a moment, you have to stop and savor it. And any sport that you do outdoors, reminds you to love nature.

Lindsey Jacobellis

I feel really bad about Jacobellis wiping out. I know the feeling. I wipe out a lot. I wipe out almost everyday. But I glance around and hope no one is watching. Then, I get up. I dust myself off quickly and I go. I pretend nothing happened. “Huhn? Me? Wipe out? No! Not at all!”

It must be really stressful to have your whole future and identity depend on your balance on a board for a few minutes flying down an icey hill. A few minutes matters a lot. All the training. All the hours. All the work. Gone in an instant.

I gasp and feel sick when I see figure skaters fall too. I hate it. And yet, I keep watching and gasping and thanking God it’s not me. That when I fall, I hope no one laughs. I hope the cameras are not on me. That millions are not watching. Because life is hard enough. And everyone falls.