I love extreme sports, I like snowboarding and motorcross and

Hear now, children of the present age, the words of Jeremy London, who once declared, “I love extreme sports, I like snowboarding and motorcross and rollerblading and hockey.” Though spoken in simple form, these words hold within them the seed of a greater teaching. For when a man speaks of what he loves, he does not speak merely of pastime or play, but of the fire that awakens in his spirit when danger and joy embrace one another.

To love extreme sports is to walk willingly upon the edge of chaos, where the cold wind of the mountain strikes against the heart, where the roaring engine shakes the bones, and where balance is tested upon the blades of steel or the wheels of freedom. Such pursuits are not idleness. They are the mirror of life itself: uncertain, swift, perilous, and yet filled with beauty for those bold enough to grasp it. London’s words remind us that to live fully is to risk falling, yet to rise with laughter even when bruised.

Think of the ancient warriors who hurled themselves into combat not only for victory, but for the exaltation of testing their strength against fate. Was not Achilles himself moved by a spirit similar to the snowboarding youth who descends a mountain, chasing both triumph and possible ruin? The struggle and the danger sharpen the soul. Just as hockey players clash with speed and fury upon frozen waters, so too do we contend daily with obstacles that demand courage. The essence is the same: to test oneself, to discover the limits, and in so doing, to surpass them.

Consider, too, the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton, who led his men across the ice of Antarctica when their ship, the Endurance, was lost. With sleds, with courage, and with the determination of those who loved peril as their companion, he brought them through the most extreme of trials. Though he was no snowboarder nor motorcross rider, the spirit of extremity—the love of daring and the acceptance of danger—was alive in him. He endured storms of ice as a rider endures storms of mud and dust. His lesson is kin to London’s: that danger embraced with love can be transformed into triumph.

The love of rollerblading upon the street, or the ride of motorcross across dirt and stone, is not merely love of motion—it is love of the unknown turn, the sudden leap, the edge where failure waits like a shadow. Yet it is in stepping into that shadow that the light of joy shines brightest. For no man who has lived safely behind walls may speak truly of freedom. Only he who risks the fall knows the thrill of flight.

Thus, London’s words are not mere confession of leisure. They are a hymn to life lived fearlessly. He tells us, without the weight of ancient tongues but with the clarity of passion, that one must choose extremity over mediocrity, adventure over slumber, action over silence. His loves are not sports alone—they are symbols, each one a path to encounter both fear and joy in the same breath.

The lesson, then, is clear: seek out that which challenges you, that which places you on the edge of your own fear, and learn to love it. Be it in sport, in craft, in art, or in the battles of daily living, let your spirit awaken where difficulty dwells. Do not flee from hardship, but embrace it as a companion that will shape your strength.

And as for practical action, let each who hears this teaching take up something that frightens yet fascinates them. Learn the instrument whose strings seem too hard for your fingers. Speak the words you fear to speak before a crowd. Climb the hill that has always seemed too steep for your body. If your heart is stirred by speed, by flight, by motion, then lace your skates, grip the handlebars, or take the board to the snowy height. In this way, you will live not as one asleep, but as one awakened, alive, and unafraid. For in daring, life itself is tasted to the fullest.