Lessons from a mile of hell
So the other day, I signed up with a Triathlon team. I figured, I have my running team, so this is a way to get faster in the other two sports that compose a Triathlon.
Today, their calendar said “moderate run,” since most of them were doing the Rhode Island Half-Ironman this coming weekend.
I emailed one of the run organizers: “So, I’m not really like, you know… fast. And by “not really fast,” I mean “I’m slow.” Is that ok?
“Sure,” he said. “We’re all taking it slow tonight, since we’ve got that Half-Ironman this weekend.”
I thought that was cool, I could easily run the nine miles they were doing. No problem at all, and I could probably keep up with them.
You know, for someone who started and built a company from nothing to almost 14,000 members in a little over three months, I’m amazed at my occasional inability to see things coming.
I walked into the store tonight, and met the other Triathletes who I’d be running with tonight.
There were all lined up talking to each other, so I saw them all in profile. That they all looked like this:
I I I I I I
should have been my first clue.
In profile, I look like this:
b
So that should have told me something.
“So, um, how fast are we planning on going tonight,” I asked.
“Oh, we’re going to take it slow. Probably around a 7:30 or so for 9 miles.”
(For those curious, I ran a 10k on Friday in 55 minutes. Approximately a 9 minute mile. Which, for those who suck at math like I do, is a minute and a half PER MILE slower than these guys were planning on running.)
Why I didn’t just leave then is beyond me.
So we walk to the park. I was reassured that there were other runs and swims and bike rides, in which there were slower people with whom I’d be able to keep up. (This was, mind you, after telling everyone that I was probably going to lose them within a mile or so.)
This didn’t reassure me in the slightest.
We start running.
Like how you shield a child’s eyes when you pass an accident on the road where there are injuries, I’ll spare you the details.
I lasted a little over 3/4ths of a mile with them. Before they sped up, and I was history.
Why this always happens to me is beyond me.
I will be back, though. I will manage to keep up with them. At some point.
I I I I I - indeed.
Everyone’s gotta have an anthem or 12, right?
9 Responses to “Lessons from a mile of hell”
Peter:
Gosh you have such a humorous self depreciating way about you. This one made me smile and reminiscince about the days when I was training to participate in a massive, 500 mile bike ride to raise money for charity.
We’d gather at a certain place and I’d see a bunch of in-shape cyclers who were in the exact same shape you presented above (how creative!) while I was a “b.” Once we got going they all shot ahead of me while I huffed and puffed my way up and down the hills.
Too funny! BTW, I love the HAROs. I’ve found a couple of interesting queries so keep it up.
LOL Maybe they just wanted to leave you alone so you could ummm… concentrate? I dunno - sounds like they’re just elitists
btw, love your writing style 
I almost spit up my coffee on the last post. Well, actually that happened when I clicked the always link.
Thanks for this, Peter. It made my morning!
Why does this always happens to you? You’re the eternal optimist! Love HARO. If there are no leads for my clients, at least I can get a good chuckle, guffaw (or spit take like the guy above) from your posts! I don’t know how you have the energy to do what you do. Keep up the good work!
That’s funny, the song Tubthumping. Goes perfectly with your humorous story. Great writing!
Thanks for the chuckle.
Hilarious.
I’m a runner, too–but I am slow, slow, slow. I’ve just given up trying to find a running partner or even attempting to run in a group. I keep reminding myself of the tortoise and the hare. That really happened, right???
Too funny. Reminded of my bicycling days when I would sign up for a 50-mile ride with hopes of meeting a cyclist or two. We would chat in the parking lot, down the side street to the route and I would ride the next 49 miles alone. And I would return the next week and do it again!!!!
Ha Ha do not dispare Peter not every triathlete is a stick insect with a thyroid problem, just to be out there is the way to get faster.
I encourage people of all ages and shape to get involved, train smart and enjoy all the benefits of triathlon sport.
It has the ability to inspire others and to keep the b look from spreading