Hurt So Good
Back, oh I don’t know, a long time ago, a guy named Sigmund Freud came up with the Pleasure-Principle. Simply stated, this psychological theory claims that people have a tendency to move toward pleasure and away from pain - and I always thought it was just another song by Janet Jackson. So by this rational, we would all rather watch consecutive Simpson’s episodes and eat Ben and Jerry’s ice cream with a chocolate covered pretzel than mop the floor and (god forbid) clean out the refrigerator. Ok, so I guess Sigmund spoke a little bit of truth in that we would rather do these more pleasant activities, however, we don’t. Why Siggy? Why?
It’s because everyone in the world would call us a lazy and pathetic waste of space. And really, after the tenth quart of Phish Phood it might be getting just a tad bit old.
In my ignorant opinion of psychology, I have recently defied Mr. Freud’s assessment of human behavior. I committed to do one of the most painful of human activities. I signed up for an Olympic triathlon.
An Olympic triathlon consists of a 1.5 kilometer swim, a 40 kilometer bike ride, and a 10 kilometer run. For the metric illiterate that’s .93 miles, 24.8 miles, and 6.2 miles respectively. (This is of course far different from the venerable Iron Man Triathlon that boasts a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile full marathon, not to mention a full roll-over in the grave of Sigmund Freud.)
So after planning a date and spending a significant sum of money on throwing myself into the claws of pain, I decided it was time to start training. Running has always been my choice of exercise, so I’m not too worried about that. For years I’ve been rocking out to cheesy punk music on my MP3 player while jogging dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I bought a road bike last year that is more efficient than any mechanical device I’ve ever encountered; I’ve broken more of a sweat driving a car without power steering.
So it looks like I’ve got two out of three down, but this swim thing might be a bit tough - I’ve never been much of an aquatic guy. I actually hate cold water - I’m considering asking if they’ll let me “get used” to the water temperature before I start the race. You think that will work?
After wading my way into the heated indoor pool I began my first swim training session deciding to start with one of those kickboard things after seeing someone else doing it. I grabbed that damn board and started kicking my feet like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest (not a great analogy, but I couldn’t resist). The result of my swimming technique that resembled a prolonged muscle spasm was surprisingly nothing. That’s right, I didn’t go frickin’ anywhere. I kicked harder - nothing. I kicked faster - nothing. I think the lifeguard was up out of his chair (you know it’s bad) when I decided to reassess the situation and devise a new plan. I took the conventional route of using my arms as well as my legs and eventually made a frantic, exhausted appearance at the other end of the pool with my delirious mind bordering on hallucination.
Let the fun begin.
Swim, bike, or run over to your computer and email John Poole at poolejohn@gmail.com.
It’s because everyone in the world would call us a lazy and pathetic waste of space. And really, after the tenth quart of Phish Phood it might be getting just a tad bit old.
In my ignorant opinion of psychology, I have recently defied Mr. Freud’s assessment of human behavior. I committed to do one of the most painful of human activities. I signed up for an Olympic triathlon.
An Olympic triathlon consists of a 1.5 kilometer swim, a 40 kilometer bike ride, and a 10 kilometer run. For the metric illiterate that’s .93 miles, 24.8 miles, and 6.2 miles respectively. (This is of course far different from the venerable Iron Man Triathlon that boasts a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile full marathon, not to mention a full roll-over in the grave of Sigmund Freud.)
So after planning a date and spending a significant sum of money on throwing myself into the claws of pain, I decided it was time to start training. Running has always been my choice of exercise, so I’m not too worried about that. For years I’ve been rocking out to cheesy punk music on my MP3 player while jogging dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I bought a road bike last year that is more efficient than any mechanical device I’ve ever encountered; I’ve broken more of a sweat driving a car without power steering.
So it looks like I’ve got two out of three down, but this swim thing might be a bit tough - I’ve never been much of an aquatic guy. I actually hate cold water - I’m considering asking if they’ll let me “get used” to the water temperature before I start the race. You think that will work?
After wading my way into the heated indoor pool I began my first swim training session deciding to start with one of those kickboard things after seeing someone else doing it. I grabbed that damn board and started kicking my feet like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest (not a great analogy, but I couldn’t resist). The result of my swimming technique that resembled a prolonged muscle spasm was surprisingly nothing. That’s right, I didn’t go frickin’ anywhere. I kicked harder - nothing. I kicked faster - nothing. I think the lifeguard was up out of his chair (you know it’s bad) when I decided to reassess the situation and devise a new plan. I took the conventional route of using my arms as well as my legs and eventually made a frantic, exhausted appearance at the other end of the pool with my delirious mind bordering on hallucination.
Let the fun begin.
Swim, bike, or run over to your computer and email John Poole at poolejohn@gmail.com.
posted by John Poole at 9:32 PM
2 Comments:
Wow I didn't even know you could't swim. I'm glad you are taking swim lessons, keep them up so one day we can go kite surfing together. Good luck and if you can't stay up, get some swimmies at the local drug store.
Dude, you didn't mention the triathlon. Dang. You're hard core. Don't drown.
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