Para Sky Glide Biking

I am as much inclined toward risky endeavor as might a slow loris be toward a foot race - my adrenaline levels elevated sufficiently enough at the prospect of consuming an under chilled Chablis - let alone launching one’s self from the top of a mountain in the fervent hope that a piece of material and a few sinewy chords will reliably provide any kind of atmospheric buoyancy to protect me from a screaming, grizzly death on rocks two thousand feet below. Be my disinclination toward such adventure as it may, many others seek these adrenaline filled pursuits with such a testosterone filled vigorous seduction of fate, that it can only be a matter of time before fate realizes it has been delinquent in attending to its duty.

Cocooned within the security and warmth of middle aged living, my sloth-like sedentary disposition fulfills any remnant needs left over from the exhilaration sort by my hominid ancestors at being chased by ill tempered woolly mammoths or saber-toothed tigers well enough, thank you very much. Imagine the gripping fear that descends upon me with the realization my sponge cake may have developed a crusty bottom due to a faulty oven timer, and the inherent danger involved in trying to cross the kitchen floor at great speed to save it in a pair fluffy bunny slippers.

No, there is suitable challenge and exhilaration enough in life without the requirement for engaging in ridiculous behavior such as para sky glide biking, and those maniacal lunatics who tantalize fate and titillate fear in such a manner shall also in declining age recline as I do in the safety of wisdom - warm, self preserving, middle aged wisdom.