survival of the un-fittest

I went snowboarding last week, which is always good for a couple of reasons:
One, it is quite humbling... :)
and Two, it allows me to rest my mind from the madness that is usually swirling about in it, because the only thought there seems to be room for is how to survive from the top of the mountain to the bottom.

I decided I need to do dangerous things more often. Which brings me to remembering that, once upon a time, when my family had three kids in it, I the first-born, was the last of those three to learn to ride a two-wheeler bicycle, because I was completely horrified of (what I now know is inevitable) injury. I was reminded of this when my friend told me of a recent adventure in the mountains, which caused him to receive 17 stitches in his lower leg. I do not ever do things that would bring me to the POSSIBILITY of such a token. (which at the moment is a good thing, because no health insurance ) But you get my point.
But I want to say that today I went on an adventure similar to the 17-stitch inducing endeavor, (which really wasn’t THAT dangerous, especially if you’re me, because I’m not athletic enough to get the kind of velocity that my friend probably had) and I’m fine. Which is good, because otherwise I might not ever do it again….