Radical running and radical reels.

Around lunch time today when I have the shared space to myself and it is my intention to get some work done, I hit the typical writers block. I started the morning with best intentions. What I wanted to write about was the discussion that we had last night on the walk to the Eric Harvey theatre. What had been flowing out of my head was a rather convoluted connection that I was attempting to make between the evolution of social insects and their 'selfish genes' with the behaviour of modern, generally non-reproducing types like ourselves, and the general subject of the up-coming evening presentation. That is to say, an assumption of mine is that many people in a mountain town like Banff are not likely to have children, and this assumption applies to 'extreme sport' athletes as well. That is what many of us have in common. We follow a passion for sports and adventure to the promised lands of Banff, Jasper, Tofino, Whistler, Squamish, Nelson, and Revelstoke. The list of course is longer than the former, however the towns mentioned are the ones I am personally most familiar with.
The point is, I doubt people like me, or the typical athletes in any Radical Reels presentation have many children. So my connection is a sociobiological one. Evolution results in species of ants and bees that have most individuals in a population born sterile. This is of apparent benefit to the species fitness in general as the populations of ants and bees seem to do well overall. Modern human populations often have castes that are not considered available for the future gene pool. High achieving athletes for example, who are likely to be excellent models of genetic fitness, are least likely to reproduce themselves in any abundance.

The connection is difficult to make I admit. Perhaps a bit of apples and oranges. The non-sequitor of comparing ants to people. (Comments welcome.)

So there I was this morning feeling some blockage. Since the sun was shining and the temperature was rising well above freezing, which is a treat for this time of year, I felt I should go for a run. Sure, my back has been sore lately, and some joints have been protesting the abuse of the seasons gone by. However I refuse to let those little voices dominate the discussion. I, in every sense I have of myself, love running. My heaven includes the almost endless sand of Long Beach at low tide, with the sun warming the air through a thin veil of fog. With few sheeple about, I can run barefoot as long as the chemical energy is available to my cells. To be fair, the last time I was there, I crippled myself this way, however with no regrets. Here in the Rockies, some of the most gorgeous trails exist for what I feel is that purpose as well; for me to run upon.

Off I go, and it hits me about the time I emerge from the shady side of Sulfur Mountain into the sunshine down by the river. I should write about running, and the show last night. There happens to be an excellent connection there as last nights show was introduced by a short film starring the MC Timmy Oneil as an aspiring ultra-marathon runner. Although cheeky, I sincerely believe that of all the so-called 'extreme' sports, nothing surpasses those simplest activities which requires only what one is born with. Walking, running, climbing, and swimming are the real sports. An extension of that logic would include combat as well. Thus, to introduce the show Radical Reels show with a bit on running, however intended as comic relief, resonates well with me.

That said, the first 'official' film of the night was a perfect example of how marketing and images drives much of the adventure sport industry. The short film was called Oseven, whatever that means, and it was garbage. A superficial collection of images presented for the benefit of the sponsors. It was advertising plain and simple. One would have to be a total armchair athlete to miss that. I wish I had.

Now for the good news; except for that short waste of film and the audiences time, the remainder of the films were excellent. The quality of the sports-porn was up to the promise of the Mountain Film fest. Confirmed for our viewing pleasure is that there are still a number of people out there, mostly young adult males, that are willing to risk the future for thrills, accomplishment, and sponsorships. There is big money to be made in exchange for your genetic potential. Trust me on this one; ain't got no kids that I know of.

It is not my intention to review the films except to repeat that overall, with few exceptions, the evening was as expected and delivered as promised. Tonight is the Snow Show, which is winter themed obviously. I like the idea that snow gets its own night now. Around here, its only like, six months of the year you know. So like ants perhaps, we will wander up to the theatre again tonite, and bask in the glow of winter sport and adventures, as if with one thousand others we are cozy around the fire after a day of excitement and survival. I wonder if any babies will get made afterwards? Not likely. We have been sterilised by mountain culture.

This brings me back to the question I arrived at the theatre with last night. The question was 'how did hymenoptera evolve in the first place?' The answer will somehow be part of the answer to our own question; how will we evolve so as to not destroy ourselves and life on this gorgeous planet?
Sterile female workers for the ants and bees seems to work for them. What is going to work for us?