There is no sophistry in my body

3 Oct

Lofty ideals are quickly betrayed by raw physicality. There is no meaning in a carbide ski pole spike striking the asphalt. The brutality of the gesture is interpretation. No hidden message in a leg push, a hip thrust or in the contraction of the triceps and abdominals. These things may have aesthetic value, but whatever you say about them misses the mark: here treacly, there swaggering and all in all monotonous. Spin your mental gears if you will, the hill is still indifferent to your resentment. There is no sophistry in my body. Untroubled by thought, am I more (or less) capable of enjoying movement than another animal?

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