My own damn sport

There is a time in a man's life when no recognized participatory sport will have him and he must invent his own. I am at that juncture.
I am a hobbyhorser.
"That doesn't even exist," you exclaim.
"On the contrary," I say, galloping about you upon my steed. "Hobbyhorsing is a venerable sport."
"Quit poking at me, jerk," you ask.
Yes. I will tell you the history. Of course alot has changed since the sport's inception in 1908. The hobbyhorsing uniforms of those days are laughable by todays standards, but almost everything seems funny today. Something seems to have gotten into us. At the turn of the century there was virtually no safety equipment available for the casual hobbyhorsist. Gorings were numerous... in the number narrowly averted. This haphazardness forced women to be relegated to the role of spectators, and rarely even that. Women were permitted into the sport in 1927 but were required to hobbyhorse side-saddle.
Hobby-horses were, of course, used in olden times (as we call them today) by the French (as we call people who live in France). Let's go back into history and take a look. Oh, not that far. We can imagine that cave-men might have domesticated the stick prior to domesticating horses but then we would have to ask what it was they thought they were doing when they put a stick between their legs, wouldn't we? Let's just scooch up to 15th century France. These stalwart early hobbyhorsers were self-appointed 'alongside-followers' and would attempt to 'up-hurry' laggers and fatties. Hobby-horses also show up in an early English engraving in which we see what looks to be a mob of Morris Dancers encouraging a lone hobbyhorser with decapitation.
Today's hobbyhorsers consider the racing from one's current spot to an entirely separate spot in time or space jejune. One's hobbyhorsemanship is not based on distance, competence or uninsaneness, but solely centers around one's cavorts. While it is possible for even a novice to score high marks for capriciousness and vagrancy, most newcomers quickly run out of ideas. There is nothing sadder than a limp steed gradually slipping down to some immobile, gape-mouthed hobbyhorseman or woman's ankles.
And while our loping might seem aimless.
Another thing that attracts me to this sport is that it offers little in the way of calamities and catastrophes. The worst thing a hobbyhorser can get is stomp-foot. Thigh-chap is almost unheard of these days- partially due to the fact that when the straddle-barrier was broken for lady hobbyhorsers new rules permitted the introduction of a looser seat. Purists decried what they described as the untightening of the strictures of straddling, pointing out that some people hardly touch their horse, and until they finish their horse, no dessert.
There were, for a number of years, two competing hobbyhorsing organizations- the National Hobbyhorsers International and the American Hobbyhorsing Association which for a time was sponsored by the beef spread Bovril until Bovril denied this.
The former sanctioned developments in the stick-mounts such as aluminum bodies that were said to enhance aerodynamic efficiency and rear end streamers which offset those gains. Today's steed would not recognize the primitive horse of old- they are as different as today's broom and the ridiculous brooms of yesteryear. The A.H.A. held fast against encroaching progress and eventually succumbed to the Nixon-era surge in popularity, led by notables such as (citation needed).
"But sport?" you might aver beneath your breath, "It's barely an activity."
"YOU'RE BARELY AN ACTIVITY!" I respond, winning eleventy points. And with my steed floating and flouncing between my legs I ride off, without traversing any distance whatsoever.