I’ve recently learned that some of my friends have joined a bowling league. Shirts with names stitched on the pockets, rented shoes, Tuesday night tournaments-the whole shebang just like in “The Flintstones.” I’ve got nothing against bowling itself. I’ve only bowled a handful of times, never cresting the 100 mark, but I get the appeal. You roll a heavy ball down the lane and drink a beer. If you do it right, there’s a loud crashing noise. Sounds good to me.

But as far as sports go, bowling isn’t exactly physically demanding. What’s more, it tends to attract those of us on the unathletic side. I know this is a gross generalization, but it’s one that I’ve found to be true through independent studies and research. Take a hard look Fred Flintstone and his buddy Barnie. Other than running their car to the bowling alley, they don’t get too much exercise…and it shows.

While I have no problem with my friends falling into the oblivion of saturated fat and back braces that is bowling, I don’t like the fact that I am also reaching the age where “non-sport” sports are becoming more attractive than traditional sports.

I’ve recently taken up yoga, which is awkward because I spent years mocking it. I like yoga. I can admit that now. It’s invigorating, but it’s a flimsy replacement for the sports of my younger days. It lacks the killer instinct innate in sports like basketball or soccer and I find myself looking for something more competitive.

There is such a thing as competitive yoga. It’s huge in Bulgaria. Very flexible people get together to be judged on strength, grace, and poise. But even competitive yoga is non-competitive. There are no head to head battles. No trash talking. No bloody fouls. It’s just yoga with ribbons, and it doesn’t exactly satisfy my craving for blood-boiling competition.

I have the same problem with hiking. It’s a wonderful way to pass a day, but it doesn’t get the blood boiling like slide-tackling an opponent. Sure, there’s speed hiking, but really, that’s just running, isn’t it? And if I wanted to be a competitive runner, I’d buy some short shorts, shave my head and legs, and start sprinting up the street. But that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for mano y mano competition.

Once again, the former Soviet bloc has something similar to what I’m talking about. Over there, Hiking Championships are popular, but it’s mainly just grade-school kids racing up a mountain. I guess that’s pretty cool, but I’m not traveling to Latvia to hike against some eight-year-old kid in suspenders and knee-high socks. And really, those competitions aren’t cutthroat enough. If I were to design my ideal hiking competition, it would test ones wits and resolve as well as one’s speed and strength. There would be booby traps along the trail-holes covered with branches and giant rat traps that hang unsuspecting competitors upside down from trees. Volunteers would don bear suits and attack hikers randomly. Hiking sticks would be used as harpoons against opponents. Rest stops would be veritable games of Russian roulette: some cups of water would have giardia, some would not. You wouldn’t know until you came down with crippling diarrhea. It’s likely that the winner would be missing fingers and would have committed a felony during the race, but imagine the sense of accomplish you would feel afterwards!

I doubt that competitive hiking will catch on in the U.S., which means I’ll have to stick with the more “socially acceptable” form of hiking popularized by nature clubs and hippies all over the world. I guess that will do for now. At least I’m not bowling, right?