Do you ever have arguments with Common Sense? It tells you not to run that extra mile, eat that third donut, or launch yourself and your bike over that really, really steep drop, especially since you’re biking the trail all by yourself.
It should win. And most of the time, it does. Occasionally, though, I have arguments with Common Sense, and they sound something like this:
ME: I want to try that really cool teeter-totter with my bike.
COMMON SENSE: Do you want your insurance premiums to rise even more?
ME: I can keep my balance.
COMMON SENSE: Can you ride with a broken leg?
ME: Stop trying to ruin my dreams.
COMMON SENSE: Dreams of visiting the emergency room? Dreams of practicing your wilderness first aid skills on yourself?
ME: If you’re not going to say anything nice, I’m not going to play with you. I can make that teeter-totter, I can—
Common Sense is usually polite enough not to giggle at me too much when I visit the doctor afterward. It just chortles a little as I wince from the pain.
To be fair, now that I have children, I listen more closely to Common Sense. I don’t eat a box of donuts and a bag of M&Ms for lunch. I don’t go for long rides without water. I don’t spend too much time watching Star Trek reruns. Often, my voice will join that of Common Sense as I try to usher my kids through teenage-hood.
But occasionally, the impish side of me breaks loose. The lure of the challenge is too strong, whether that test involves modest attempts at breaking gravity’s hold or ambitious goals involving covering large distances.
ME: Why yes, a nine-mile run did seem like a good idea, in spite of the fact that my arches have been hurting.
COMMON SENSE: Plantar fasciitis isn’t fun, you doofus.
So please don’t tell this to Common Sense: sometimes, before I crash to earth, I enjoy the moment of flight, even when I know that the hospital is waiting.
Robin Follet lives, writes, and cartoons in North Carolina.
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January 9th, 2009 at 2:55 pm
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