Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

Bull riding is possibly the manliest sport I could ever think of watching. I’m not sure if it’s courageous or ridiculously stupid (leaning more towards the stupid side) but it is definitely impressive. It could just be me, but whenever I watch a sporting event or skill that seems really beyond impossible for me to comprehend being able to do I can’t stop myself from fantasizing about what my life would be like if I was as gifted.

Bull riding. I spent a better portion of the first half trying to pick the hand I’d rather be strapped down, tethering me to the bull. My right hand is my dominant hand but, since the broken finger incident of 2012, I tend to baby it and it does still bother me when I put it to work. I would most definitely use my left hand, besides my right is oh so good at waving to crowds and swishing through the air. Then I got to thinking about how I throw my back out of alignment while recreationally jumping on trampolines. A grumpy bull is not quite as gentle as a trampoline to one’s spine. I pictured myself getting whiplash on the first buck and landing in the arena dirt only to crawl my way under the fence bars. But then I thought, damn, I can’t even do that because this arena has banners on the lower half of the enclosure. I’d have to try my luck at climbing over it.

Climbing is not my thing, and my attempt at “speed” climbing would most likely get me killed. My legs just don’t lift high enough to reach the bar closest to the ground (after the banner of course) and, if I was wearing those brilliant fringed chaps that seem so popular, I would get tripped up on the dangling tassels and leather. Also, I would like to wear a helmet, but since that would result in my cowgirl hat being kaput, I would bring shame to the culture. Also, helmets + me = the choice between going blind and having my contact lenses bucked out of my eyes.

I could definitely rock the shirt though.

But all in all, I think we’ve figured out that I am neither tough enough to compete in bull riding, nor physically capable to do so. Maybe I’ll stick to jumping on the back of something a little more my style. Perhaps a pig, or an elderly mule.