literary and cycling inadequacy

…who would have thought?
I’ve come across a couple of interesting blogs lately – Hobgoblin and books and bikes (whose name I don’t know). I’m especially interested in the last one for that post (which is all I’ve read so far, but you know, blogging, no rush, no ‘finishing’ issues).
Both of these are blogs by people who love books and love bikes. In fact, the latter has this tagline:

“Reading, almost as much as breathing, is our essential function.” Alberto Manguel

Which makes her alright by me. Because I love books a lot, and I also love bikes (bikes of course being eminently conducive to the breathing Manguel mentions). I also enjoy these blogs (so far – they’re just new to me), and I really like their approaches to the life of the mind and the life of the body – being in the body and in the mind.
But they’ve made me think about a couple of things that I’ve had going on for a while in the back of my brain.
Having pointed you to some interesting blogs, perhaps I should discuss my own feelings of literary and cycling inadequacy. And perhaps get all defensive about it.
1. I am a slow bike rider. Nor do I ride very far, or enter any races. I am quite happy riding for 30 – 45 minutes on regular commutes every day. I go for the odd pleasure ride (though not often). I do not train, I do not compete (what would be the point when you’re as slow/unfit/lacking competitive nature as I am?). I like to sing as I ride (everyone has a bike song – it’s just that not all of them make it to the outside of us). I like to stare at stuff as I ride along, swivelling my head like a magpie watching school kids in spring. And I’m quite happy to stop and chat with strangers. I also follow the rules and wear the daggiest safety gear imaginable*.
2. I read, almost exclusively, science fiction and fantasy. I can’t remember the last time I read anything else. No, wait, I can – I’ve read pretty much every Alexander McCall Smith book. But that hardly wins me any literary cred. I only read well-written and well-informed sf. I don’t like books which think they’re pulling out some new trick but are really trotting out the same old post-apocalyptic axe-weilding tribe shtick, or irritating lone-warrior-with-magic-sword-in-fantastic-realm blabber. I will, however, tolerate these sorts of stories if they’re pulling a bit of a variation on a theme. Exercising some sort of self-reflexivity comment-on-genre stunt. So I guess I’m saying that I like sf where the author is not only well-read in the genre themselves, but also clever enough to avoid being too uncritically derivative. I also prefer female authors.
Or are these feelings of inadequacy?
I do actually love this stuff – I really enjoy reading sf. I read a lot of other, far more impenetrable stuff for work. This is fun stuff. I mean, I read all day every day when I’m working. So I like to change gears for fun reading. I really enjoy the way sf takes ordinary people (ie people we can relate to, no matter their physical appearance or abilities) and experiments with extraordinary places and situations. At the end of the day, though, the stuff that keeps me with a book to the very last pages are an excellent grasp of interpersonal and international or intergalactic (or interwhatever) politics and relationships, coupled with a neat plot and great writing.
On the bike front, I am as equally committed to riding for pleasure. I definitely have nothing to prove. And I really, really like the feeling of accomplishment and self-worth I get from achieving my small goals – riding in to dance and then home again each week. Not using public transport or a car unless I have to (thus opting out of environmental and economic stoogesville). Getting out and interacting with the people and places around me rather than getting into a bubble and wafting through the world to wherever I’m going.
I mean, I only have these inadequacy issues when I read about or speak to other people who ride faster/harder/further or reader longer/harder/smarter books than I do. Mostly I’m just happy toodling along on my bike (ain’t no race here, thanks), and I simply couldn’t imagine not reading at least 2 or 3 hours every day just for fun – that means books that are ‘easy’ to read (though I do insist on ‘well-written’, not only to facilitate the ease, but also up the pleasure).
I guess I don’t really have anything to say that a bunch of cultural studies doods haven’t said already re everday life and everyday (pop) culture, or that a bunch of feminists haven’t said re economic and social and physical independence, but still. Inside me, there’s still a worry that I’m not clever enough (and reading Serious Books will help that) or fit/fast/strong enough (and riding Seriously will help that). I guess that’s nothing new – most of us have these vaguely self-esteem related issues going on whenever we get involved in things and then compare ourselves to others. Maybe that’s why I enjoy yoga so much – comparing yourself to others is completely and utterly fruitless, let alone a deviation from the whole point of the thing.
*I do so love being in my 30s. I couldn’t give a sweet good goddamn any more about stuff that seemed to saturate my 20s: I stare as much as I can at everyone and everything that catches my interest, I couldn’t care less about whether or not people find me attractive (sexually or otherwise), I’ve completely lost interest in popular fashion – mainstream or otherwise (and it’s interesting that making my own clothes prompted this – once you stop pounding away on the consumption-of-goods train, it seems you’re a little free-er of consumption-of-other-ideologies thing as well).
It just feels so good. Except for when I’m reminded of this stuff by other people who are caring about whether they have the coolest clothes or are hanging with the coolest people or whether people are staring at them.**
…though I guess you could say that I’ve substituted a whole other bunch of anxieties, right?
**it’s probably me staring at them. Unashamedly. And if we make eye contact, I will smile and probably say hello.