Lee Voids His Punk-Ass Kid Warranty

    So, in the early years of the twentieth century, there was this radical-brilliant-bike-dude that found a remarkable niche that allowed him to serve, teach, write, publish, create, and entrepreneur (can that word be verbed?).  He became a world-renowned authority in skills and safety on a mountain bike.  Only God knows how many clavicles that dude saved through the beauty of his curiosity, passion for analysis of biology and physics, and communication skills. Oh, and the world had a lot more fun because of this guy, Lee.  He didn’t get rich, but he had a helluva good time, and he made a living, by God.

    Lee had the same problems any dude has, though.  Early relationship struggles, and failures of biology in a sport where mistakes are poorly tolerated; Lee was not immune to the laws of physics. And he was stuck with a time-share membership in a society that only recognized the iceberg-tip of his value.  Of course, as so often happens for gifted outliers, that made it tricky for Lee to recognize his own value. Byproducts of this persist to this day, which of course is not atypical.  

    Oh, and he went and got old.  He really held that shit at arms length, did way better than lesser men, but it did happen. Fuck.

    So Lee had to make a change.  That was okay, though; he was ready for it.  He was worn out from decades of trying to inspire talentless groups with erectile dysfunction riding hardtail Huffys. At some point Lee was on the road, following his need to serve, dispensing wisdom and teaching the Great Unwashed to experience a bit of adventure and risk without breaking their fool necks—when he realized that there might be more to this aging thing than loss.

    Driving and daydreaming, Lee cooked up a plan for, not the next chapter, but the next damn book:

    First, Lee reviewed his losses:

• • I can’t ride like I used to.  That’s just real.  Clients may not see that yet, because of my awesome balls, brains and sheer testicular fortitude, but they will. It’s inevitable.

  • My body parts are starting to snap like zip ties.  

  • I feel different. I don’t wanna have to compete like this anymore. Ugh, enough.

  • Shit. This is my livelihood.  Now what?

  • And, my responsibilities didn’t slow down with my body—in fact, they got heavier.

    No stranger to obstacles in the trail, though, Lee remembered that it’s all about balance and keeping your weight in the right place at the right time; heavy feet, light hands, he thought.

    So, to balance the losses, he pondered his age-related gains:

• • I am a world-recognized innovator and authority in an activity that I love

  • I am a multi-published author, and very successful at it

  • My name is synonymous with quality, whether in writing, instruction, or invention and products

  • I have won the relationship game (at this point Lee was all up in a beautiful romance with a smokin’ hot polymath genius nerd warrior named “E”.). This alone makes everything else okay, he decided.

  • I’m older, yes, but I’m smarter.  Fuck you. I’ll take smarter any day.

  • I view risk completely differently now, and it’s better this way.

  • I am finally aware that my value is not connected to speed and competition, like the mountain bike community always made it seem; my true value is in helping folks meet their goals.  I just used bikes to do that.

    Lee leaned back and put his dusty 5.10s on the tailgate and started to daydream…

 

    He had started and operated a lot of businesses.  That part was easy.

    In every successful business, he remembered, somebody had identified a ubiquitous pain point, and brought forth an opiate for that problem.  Most of these visionaries had felt that pain point personally, and had realized that they would pay good damn money for an Oxy.

    Okay, Lee thinks, but what’s my pain point?  I’m fuckin’ old, that’s it?  Ha!

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       …

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    …Really, no shit, that’s it.  I’m old, I’m tired, and I just don’t feel it like I used to.  And there’s no guide for that.  But there are HUGE payoffs, and almost nobody really sees that...and, I have a long, long list of former students and they are all aging at the same rate as I…

    And, hey, I’ve been told that my personality and unique charisma have been a big part of my success.  Maybe I can shift from teaching these fools to be rad, to teaching them to be safe and to enjoy it more, so they can do it longer.  I wish somebody’d done that for me. 

    Maybe I host support groups for people struggling with the loss just like I have been.  Shit, I can do that remotely, and pick up folks from all parts of the world without getting out of my pajamas. $20/session, groups of ten max, $200/hour…3 groups a day…3 days a week…$1800/week, $90,000/year just from that…

    Furthermore, Lee remembered that every business owner dreams of a smooth running machine serving the world well—run by somebody else.  My business is still alive and well, Lee thought.  Maybe I just shift my personal instruction to this new idea of helping my loyal customers get old, and bring in younger folks to keep the youngsters happy, using my model.  

    Then again, Lee thought to himself, maybe I step off this merry-go-round and find a completely different pain point…there is a galaxy of them…after all, bikes are just a tool.  What I bring to the world exists completely outside that one area of interest...