The TriBlogger Was Beaten...By His Wife

There is absolutely nothing wrong with being cocky. What is it that propels someone to the top of the corporate ladder? Competency and execution? Yeah right. It is being cocky. Want to be an affluent, influential Hollywood actor? You surely must be a proven and gifted Thespian, right? Give it up. It is being cocky. Let's put this to the test...I will give you a word or phrase and you give me a name. "Hasta la vista, baby" - too easy. "Adrian!!" - pretty easy if you are over 25 or so. "Winning!" - no comment.  Do you sense exquisite talent in any of these blokes?  Not a twinge.  But they are all off the charts in cockiness.  Cockiness takes the cake.  Period.

So it is no wonder that I spent all evening Saturday strutting around my kitchen showing off all of my fine feathers as my wife watched in disgust. Every opportunity I had to flick my tail in her direction was taken savagely. This is the nature of true testosterone filled competition - and Sunday was our first 10k race of the year.

You can imagine the comments. "I hear that there is a Starbucks nearby...I will get you a latte after I'm done and wait for you at the finish."  "Oh there's a pancake breakfast afterward? I will make sure that there is some left for you when you are done."  "The kids race starts an hour after our race? I'll take video so you can see how they do."  And the lines kept going. I was on a roll. She asked if I planned on putting this in my blog. I responded emphatically..."Of course!" I was on my "A" game...and nothing was going to stop me.

Even on Sunday morning I had a spring in my step.  All of my gear was in the bag waiting for me.  Nothing would be left behind.  Gatorade, Gu, Cliff Bar, iPod, race number...everything was accounted for.  My wife was still pulling herself together 15 minutes before we were supposed to leave.  In the car she asked if I brought Gu for her?  I gave her the side look (amateur!).  "You can borrow one of mine."  Come on...this is the big leagues!  Every man for himself.  Again, as we lined up for the start of the race she began to talk to me!  I told her, "It's time to put on your game face...get serious...this is a race!"  I had my music blasting and I was ready to show my stuff.



I did some last minute stretches and some bounces to show off my calf strength.  Then I set my gaze. The gun went off and we were running.  We jumped into a 7:10 mile - 20 seconds faster than my planned pace.  I gradually slowed it down.  She will be spent by mile three.  We continued our run side-by-side. She glanced frequently at her watch.  The old mistake...paying too much attention to her speed.  She must be getting tired.  Then we hit the hills.  I am not talking about one or two hills.  The entire rest of the course, past mile one, was one hill after the next.  I train hills - in fact all of my outdoor runs are hills.  But it was the first time I had run outside since last October. If this was going to tire me out...it was going to kill my wife!  I was golden.

At the mile two water station my wife made for a cup of water. Who needs water in a 10k race?  This was my chance - while she is drinking, I am taking the lead.  I started pumping my arms as I made the passing move...only through some defiance of nature and a tear in the time-space continuum, she was able to take the water, drink and toss the cup without losing a single stride!  How could this be? Didn't everyone slow down at the drink station, down two gulps of water and cough and gasp for the next quarter mile as they almost choke to death on the water that went down the wrong way? 

Houston, we have a problem.

At mile three I felt my strength starting to wane.  I glanced at my wife and, though she was working hard, she didn't look spent.  Two more hills side-by-side.  Then I had to face reality:  I had to take down my pace.  My only hope was that she was as tired as I was.  Only, she wasn't. I slowed up on the next hill...and she kept going.

On each hill I developed a new plan.  This time I will take the hill faster.  Maybe I can focus on speeding up on the downhill.  At mile five  I will let her rip!  At five and a half I am going all out!  Finally, I was left with the feeble hope that at least I could look like I was running when I see my parents.  Never once did I catch up with her.  In fact, she opened up a considerable lead on me.  She beat me by a full minute.



The Gold

 She met me at the finish with some Gatorade and a smile.  "I hope you didn't mind that I went ahead?" "No, that was our agreement." "That's good.  I was looking at my watch early on and the pace seemed slow, but I didn't want to leave you behind." Ouch!  Believe it or not, my wife ran so fast that she won first place for her age group...and this was the first 10k race that she has ever run!  If you don't believe me take a look at the picture.  That is the real McCoy.  I was hopeful that I placed high as well...so I felt a little anxiety when the results were read off.  No luck.  I placed 10th.  Not even an honorable mention!  Where's the respect? 

When things don't go your way you can always count on your parents to encourage you.  As we left the results area my dad put a hand on my shoulder "You are very fit."  This is a bit like saying "Better luck next time" with an athletic twist.  I'll take it.  My legs were hurting and I was hungrier than a malnourished water buffalo.

The First Place Finisher

We proceeded on to our race day ritual - to take everyone out for a very unhealthy breakfast.  In the car I asked my wife if she was going to change clothes.  She said she wasn't.  I asked her if she planned on taking off her first place medal.  No. I think that she was planning on adding it to her daily ensemble - a gold medal does go with just about everything.  I have to admit that there is a lot of pride that goes with wearing a medal.  Just last year I came in third place in the Halloween Trot (which isn't saying much as I got lost and ran an additional half a mile more than others and still came in third).  I keep the medal close to my bed.  Once in a while I bring it out and stroke it a bit.  But only when I am alone.  I was proud of my wife...she ran well and got the reward.  However, I would not be a truly competitive triathlete if it didn't sting a bit to lose.  But I was over it.

We arrived at the restaurant and were seated at the table.  My wife opposite me while I was next my oldest son.  I reviewed the menu...did I want to go for the bigger-than-your-head-cheese-burger or the mile high stack of flap jacks?  Both seemed equally appealing.  I began to talk to my son about how he was doing and he shared how happy he was that he ran a full quarter-mile race "with only stopping a little to walk to reserve energy," he said.  How precious.  Ah...the tenderness of an untainted young child.  I began to remember a time when life was simpler...without competition...without pride.  There was a time when life was innocent and we took everything in with joy.  As my mind loped along the paths of my youth, my son interrupted with a question.  "Did you run fast today, Dad?"  I told him that I thought I had run fairly well.  He's proud of his dad, I thought!  I put my arm around his shoulder and scuffed up his hair a bit.  "Then why does Mom have a medal and you don't?"  Was that a hint of a smirk on his lips?  Did I sense a slight raise of his eye-brows and a glint in his eye?  It is true after all...we are evil from birth.

 

(Side Note:  Don't let this happen to you...while writing this blog the magnet on my iPad cover has come in contact with my Garmin 310XT and has screwed up the display.  The cost to fix is about $106...but at least they will send me a new watch! )