The Lousy Competitor

Competition brings out the worst in me.  One of my earliest memories is screaming and crying after my dad beat me at Candyland.  I may have thrown the board across the room in a thwarted four year old rage.  It was MY game, and therefore I should win, was my reasoning.

 Later, I learned craftiness.  After my dad and my brother would beat me in Connect Four, I would steal their methods and use them on my unsuspecting friends.  This carried over to the badminton court, when my brother would send the birdie flying at my face at what seemed 100 mph, and my only  choice was to get hit or duck.  I tried that on my friends too, and it was no wonder they chose not to play with me anymore. 

Due to lack of athletic ability and a preference for books over people, I never played on any teams growing up.   Thus, I never learned that it was possible to win graciously, lose gracefully, and remain friends with your competitors.  Now when I watch elite athletes lose track and field events by hundredths of a second and then hug the winner, I’m in awe on two levels.  First, if I lost anything by less than a second, I would be very upset with myself.   Second, I would not be hugging the sweaty winner.  I’d be saying, “Give me that gold medal, sister, or I’ll rip it off your neck.”

That’s an exaggeration of course.  My mother would never allow that kind of behavior.  And my running career is not exactly about winning anything, much less by seconds.  No, instead my husband, who is a terrific cheerleader, urges me on with “You’ll finish in the top half of the race!” and “You’ll be in the top third of your age group!” 

Naturally, I want to get faster, and I have over the years.  I have cut 20 minutes off my half-marathon time and 8 minutes off my 5K pace (another nugget from my partner, “Your top speed is very close to your bottom speed”).  Now, though, as I rack up the miles in anticipation of our second marathon in October, I’m faced with only two choices to get faster:  I can run more miles or I can eat less.  In theory, I would like to run more miles, but I already run between 40-50 a week, and that takes up a significant amount of time.  The losing weight part is even less attractive.  While the experts say that for every pound lost, a runner gains two seconds per mile, it just doesn’t seem worth it.  I like to eat with frequency and gusto, which is partly why I started running in the first place. 

So, on the eve of my fifth half-marathon, let us hope that I PR (set a personal record).  If not, it’s possible that I might cry and throw things.