Lessons from a mile of hell

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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:


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?

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