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@BringMeMyFix
I've spent the best part of 20 years doing as many different disciplines as possible (mainly due to a short attention span and rampant curiosity), dutifully getting beaten by specialists.
It's not necessarily wins that I'm craving – wins, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention – but a more consistent set of results vis à vis what I'm capable of.
I'm not entirely sure how competitiveness works, and I can't shake it off completely, though I've tempered its more extreme and distructive effects on my life as I've, ahem, matured.
Is it simply a behavioural manifestation of genetic drift i.e. is a gene pool 'aware' of its strengths (its capabilities that have proven superior to other gene pools in the unending race for domination) and so genetic vessels (us) are compelled to act out/prove/enforce this superiority?
Is this what's making me think about stuff like, "hey, I could fucking win the B League at Herne Hill, piece of piss, if I could be fucking bothered to even half apply myself"? If so, evolution's a strange old bird (although not a dodo, obviously).
And now I've had a kid, and a son, I'm not oblivious to the fact he's clearly a lot stronger and faster (and brainier and and and) than many of his peers (and me, if evolution's working properly), and am already getting prepared to nurture his talents - although I'd like to think I will respect his decisions about which talents, if any, he wishes to pursue.
All because some double helices are pushing my buttons, as they pushed the buttons of members of my pale-faced clan before me.
Shit, I need to go out for a training ride...