Tuesday, September 4, 2012

The 17%

Driven by the motivation to increase my social interactions, as well as by the amount of time I can stand in front of a mirror naked and not feel bashful, I have recently become a steady member of a tri-athlete society that looks to push ourselves to the physical extremes day in and day out. Joined by my fellow comrades The Rhinestone Cowboy and The Glee President, I have been attempting to push myself just that much harder in hopes that one day my efforts will be rewarded by a faster time crossing the finish line.

Being involved in a triathlon is an entirely new culture itself, which almost suggests a hint of lunacy by the participants. Scientific research has actually shown that 83% of those training for a triathlon have deranged/bloodthirsty traits as well as subconscious waves bordering on mental psychosis.

True story.

However, there is that minority group of individuals, the 17%, who participate in triathlons for an entirely different reason; the approval of those around them.

Insert Officer Muffintop.

Over the past two weeks, a group of fellow tri-athletes have been getting together at a near reservoir and have been training ourselves to perform the open swim. We show up in the evening, sporting wetsuits and goggles, hoping to get just a little bit better at beating the waves, and shaving a little more time off of our swim. It’s a fun group to be a part of, a group that all has the same reason to be there. We all want to get just a little bit better.

Except for Officer Muffintop. He’s the 17%.

This evening after a rather long and dizzying swim across the reservoir and back, we all huddled on the shore, toweled off, and tossed back and forth random chit-chat about different training methods and races that we would be a part of. And then, there was the almond poppyseed deputy who had to one-up all of us.

RK Master: “That was a great swim guys, I think we all did really well.”

Officer Muffintop: said in California surfer/single digit IQ accent “Yeah it was. I feel good, gettin’ ready for the Phoenix Tri, which is right before the Color Me Rad 5K I’m doin in October, which is followed up by the Polar Bear Tri in North Dakota. Yeah man, all of this just preppin’ me for the Ironman 70.5 in May. Of course, there’s the Gunlock, Summer Games, Tebow 10K, and the Seattle Slew that are all in between. But you know, just gotta keep this sexy body movin’.”

For a moment I was rather impressed at the grueling lifestyle that the Muffintop was enduring week in and week out, when suddenly I paused, and glanced over at the pastry-shaped silhouette waddling out of his wetsuit.

Officer Muffintop: “Yeah man, since I’ve got into Crossfit and training like this, I’ve just been doin’ so much better at the Tri. My times on the bike, the run, the swim, even my transitions have all been so much smoother. It’s just the way to live. “

Now that I think about it, you only swam roughly 200 meters total today. While the rest of us were working our tails off, crawling across the reservoir aiming to better ourselves stroke by stroke, you were just lollygagging at the first buoy talking up your 8th place finish at the Farmington Free Run/Fruit Pie/Spartan Dancing Expo. Shame on you sir, I say shame on you.

Sad to say, officer Muffintop wasn’t there for physical exercise, or the testing of his own endurance, he was there to prove to a bunch of other athletes that he is the man, a real athlete. For the record, we all cared more about the fish turds we were swimming in than the crap that was coming out of his mouth.

I hope I’m not a Muffintop. I hope that I won’t turn into a Muffintop. I hope that this blog, which is basically a day-by-day recounting of my awesomeness doesn’t signal me as a Muffintop. We all have our own reasons for the choices that we make, why we go to the gym, why we don’t eat certain foods, why we memorize the lyrics to that one Justin Beiber song. But when all is said and done, keep it to yourself and let your actions do the talking, rather than your inflated, overblown, wannabe diatribes you use to try and impress those around you.

Don’t be the 17%.

What do you think?

1 comment:

  1. That's great sir. Mrs. Rhinestone Cowgirl or whatever her blog alias is told me to tell you well done.