Club rats and jellyfish
Monday, July 21, 2008 at 03:11PM She got out of bed at 4:15 only to walk down a damp dim street filled with barefoot giggling girls, their unstrapped high heel shoes dangling from a drunken post diner food finger. How was this possible, she thought out loud, how can they be still having fun when I am headed towards this test of skill and practice?
These new age cowgirls preceded her own self being crowded like cattle being loaded onto freight cars headed for slaughter, only instead of the 22 caliber hammer, she lined up for the timing chip; this modern day scarlet letter: Triathlete. It seems as if technology and Big Brother were following her everywhere she went, only to report her splits and disillusioned performance to anyone with a computer and a still sleeping bike racer. The angst of possible betrayal and disappointment loomed everywhere.
Tired, empty and confused, she walked from one transition to another, was this it? Does she go here? Who are these people in these dark rubber suits and why are they lined up in front of those fiberglass boxes? She missed her new friends with the bare feet. Surely they were having more fun? It seemed like ages ago.
The chaos and waves of the river that Henry discovered so many years ago were powerless against her. Nothing could stop her, not gloom, doom or the occasional jelly fish sting. “What else have you got to throw against me Poseidon?” she yelled to the sky. Hills flattened and curves became straight in a blur of color and speed around that park in the center of the World. Call it what you want, forty kilometers, twenty four point eight miles or even a million cubits, it didn’t take long at only 1:21. After transforming herself like a multisport Gregor, she passes the Chief Clerk again in the lot. He says good luck as she runs away with the speed of all eight legs from that classic story.
Brunch afterwards was an earned reward. She basked in the glory of besting all of her friends. They may lead happy lives in glorious places, she thought this time to herself, but personal course best by eight minutes they cannot yet begin to dream.
The train out of town was uneventful save the occasional question and stolen glance. Home again. Back to life and the hope of more events soon again. Maybe more hill training. The thoughts were endless and sleep only comes with difficulty. She lays awake yet dreaming of Westchester soon. Darkness arrives with a smile. 2:35.16; just tri to beat that.
Triathlon Training 
Reader Comments (1)
The key question is...would Kafka have worn an aero helmet? Would he take endurolytes or simply drink the fluids in his water bottle?