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xtreme makeover: 08.09.04

This past Saturday morning found me having one of those “getting to know you” conversations with someone that involved a brief discussion of sundry professional sports and varying levels of interest in them. After 20 minutes, I declared, “This is the longest conversation I’ve ever had about sports.” And it was true. Because I generally don’t care about professional sports whatsoever. But what a difference a day makes. Because, come Sunday, I was ready to give the professional sports conversation a real work out—I was ready to discuss until my pulse quickened, until I actually felt short of breath, until I felt spent. You see, I had watched the X Games.

Certainly back in the day, I always had a healthy infatuation with skate punks. This matured into respectable crushes on hardcore off-road bikers I somehow always found myself meeting. But then I had to give up on them. Because after I broke my knee in a failed attempt to ride with the rough boys and girls, I had to let all that fascination dissipate. (I KNOW it’s wrong but I always think of ‘Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee’ at this juncture which I KNOW is completely tasteless. I ‘m SORRY.) In the months on crutches following my ‘accident,’ I decided that I didn’t much like hanging out with people who continued to tell pulse-racing stories of their lastest feat. I decided I wanted to hit them with my crutches until they shut up because it made me feel so lousy (sheepish, jealous, you name it). Responsibly, I stopped doing anything out of the ordinary on a bike. Of course, several years later just as I was starting to think longingly of ditches and dirt again, I broke my knee. The same one.

But oh. The X Games were awesome. Well, at least the bmx-ers and skaters were awesome. I found myself completely unable to turn the TV off. And I knew I was still missing the adrenaline rushes and the completely deserved, bad-ass feeling of self-respect that comes with meeting up with your pals and tricking out with your bike for an afternoon. Not that I was ever anywhere close to the level these guys are on, you understand. It’s like watching Mary Lou when you were 10 years-old and knowing your vaults work only because your gymnastics coach catches you and practically throws you over the damn thing. Yes, I always excelled at sport. Which is probably why those less formal athletic pursuits appealed to me so much.

But make no mistake! Physical prowess is a definite requirement no matter how fringe your sport of choice is. I am a nice example of that. Even better are the break dancers who I caught again in Dupont on Sunday night. After taking a nice, staid bike ride around town, I spent quite a while marveling at this group of fellows who merge strength, grace, and a most excellent street style so seamlessly. Those rotating arm stands totally kill me. I felt a little bit like Paris Hilton as I could only muster a slack-jawed stare and think “that’s hot,” over and over again.

Anyhow, Corey Bohan is my new hero and you’ll still never catch me in a sports bar.

reflect - reinvent ....rayclaire@gmail.com... what i used to think... what i hear... what i see... where i'd like to be...

the black apple... the girl who... sarah brown... thunderpie... evany... jenny b harris... posie... claude le monde... artsy... fartsy... jeff... random person in texas... another rachel... smitten kitchen... more of me... still more of me... even more of me...and yet still more of me...more of me but not for free...

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