Here's my theory on why I'm going to win this thing despite my 88% body hair coverage and my "going problem": There is only one man in this race, and I am him.
My opponent may be a charming pleasure boat captain and a strong swimmer, but he is not yet a man. Today, while I was applying the second coat of joint compound on the drywall I had to patch up after I tore my kitchen wall down...WITH MY BARE HANDS...., while I putting up moldings with my NAIL GUN....BAREFOOT, while I was chatting with the Home Depot employee men in Hardware and plumbing about a way to secure the front lip of my sink that I dropped into the hole in the soapstone countertop...THAT I CUT, WITH A SAW, my opponent was no doubt googling and twittering and occasionally spreadsheeting when the boss came around, all the while looking forward to "Pau Hana", maybe a Cosmo at that new wine bar across the street, maybe some rock climbing or parasurfing or some other leisure activity meant to distract him for his 48 free hours from the fact that he deep into his thirties and has no male heir, just a stylish dog is considering moving to Hollwood after he got on the cover of the "Metrosexual" section of the LA Times.
While I was working, in the true sense of creating something, with my hands, I was looking forward to my leisure time, a six mile run down to the pier at Mt. Sinai Harbor, then back along Cedar Beach. My legs felt stronger than ever, the shoes I fashioned out of some discarded linoleum flooring and some wire ties held up quite well, the bluefish were biting, and when I felt weak for a moment, I reached into another man's 5 gallon bucket (we know one another by scent), pulled out a cocktail snapper, and took a bite. I ran off, shouting "Thanks, bro!" with a mouth full of scales, blood, and bluefish flesh, rejuvenated and happy as the clams he was using for bait.
After my workout, I held one of my male sons and let him spit up on my bare chest as I fixed a gin and tonic WITH ONE HAND!
Yesterday, while biking to QUOGUE!, I got a flat tire around mile 8 and was distressed to see the air compressor at the Hess at Wading River Road was out of order. Being a man, I first called MY WIFE to let her know that she shouldn't wait up, then I went into the ACE Hardware store to find a solution. I came out with a caulking gun, a tube of silicone, and a garden hose. 75 minutes later, I was at the jetty by the Shinnecock inlet, SPEARFISHING!
Tomorrow, my day off from training and renovations, I'll be "Cross training" (as my opponent calls his Thighmastering and Pilates and mall walking and morning quickies with his "partner") by drilling holes on a roof at Dix Hills. I'll meet Neil and Roberto at 7, we'll probably ride to the job together so we can cruise the HOV lane to get back home before dark so I can put on the third coat of joint compound, the wake up early Saturday to prime and paint. Do you see what you are dealing with?
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While you were crafting this doctrine of pure crap, I was out running my first (and now second-to-last) 10k. 55:18 with a 30 second stop at mile 3.1, all the while holding my Clif Bar and water bottle.
ReplyDelete9 minute miles after an exhaustive day of googling and twittering and occasionally spreadsheeting WITH MY HANDS. Yes, walking is quite difficult today, and I doubt I'll be able to stand post-Tri, but FIRST knows no pain, and nothing matters on Sept 14th.
Looking forward to 11 minute miles with a 20 minute cushion. Better trim your man-chest, chubby.