The measurement of riding achievement

I find our modern world is obsessed with competition. If there is activity, there must be competition. And the need to sustain and validate competition drives our obsession with measurement.

I liked throwing rocks. Aimlessly. Into water mostly. Into the sea, into lakes, across rivers, into rapids, down cliffs, at trees. I could sit for hours just aimlessly throwing rock after rock. Marvelling at the graceful arc of a well-executed throw. Studying the shape and characteristics of each rock. How small, flat pebbles seemed to float in the wind for longer than big, heavy sinkers. How big river stones made loud clunking noises as they hit the bottom of a rapid. How pebbles thrown fast and flat from low down skip along the surface of the water but if they’re thrown from a height, they sink. How there was a “just right” size of rock that stayed true to aim, not too big and not too small it was.

I used to enjoy sitting peacefully concentrating simply on this meaningless activity.

Then someone came along and asked “You like throwing rocks?” “Me too!”. Let’s see who can throw rocks the furthest, fastest, highest, flattest. Let’s create categories so we can see who is the best at throwing big rocks, small rocks, flat rocks, round rocks. Now, there’s nothing wrong with competition, I’m no commie. It undoubtedly propels the human race to greater and loftier achievements and constantly pushes us to become better, at everything. This is good. The problem arises when the sole purpose of performing our activity becomes the competition. Suddenly, I didn’t want to throw rocks simply because I enjoyed it. I wanted to throw rocks further, higher, straighter than the next guy. The day I threw a rock further than him was a happy day. The day he hit the target more often than me, was a sad one.

I took no joy in the graceful movement of my body, the arching of my arm, using my whole body to launch the rock into space at tremendous velocity with amazing accuracy. It wasn’t good enough unless it was “better” than the next guy’s throw.

I started measuring and recording how far and how quick I threw rocks everyday. Then I posted the record on facebook next to a picture of me flexing my 16inch biceps with a smug 4 inch grin on my face. I got my record certified by the International Steel Arm (ISA) association then got T-Shirts printed that said “HarryD - ISA 2200 ceritifed”. I got 20 of those t-shirts printed and wore one every day.

Then I saw a guy wearing a T-Shirt saying “Daz – ISA 3300 certified”. This made me sad and I took refuge in alcohol. One drink lead to another. I heard someone in the pub say “That’s a shit curry”. I assumed I was the remarkee and swung out wildly in the general direction of the remarker. I connected with something soft and bloated. I had smashed my fist into a pregnant lady’s belly, who was doubled over in pain. I looked up to see bar patrons staring at me with shock and horror. “My Kitchen Rules” was playing on TV and someone’s curry was being judged by the nincompoop judges.

I didn’t like throwing rocks much after that.

So yeah, that’s all I have to say about the measurement of riding achievement

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