COMPETITION

So I (Tucker) went to the gym yet again last week (what is that, like twice so far this year...I'm like an exercise-guru or something).  My normal routine is to run on the treadmill for about 4 miles, or 550 calories (which works off about one heaping bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats), whichever comes first.  I usually try to find a treadmill that has a television attached, especially one that has closed captioning...I can't use my cheap headphones to connect to the t.v., as I usually get a jot of electricity to the ears every 10 seconds from the static electricity that builds up as I run (and I run like the wind blows).  If I can't find a t.v. with closed captioning, I have to settle on watching the little scrolling info bar on the bottom of CNN or Fox News.  Afterward, my knowledge of what's going on in the world is a mile wide, but a millimeter deep:

"Man kills giant eel with Mariah Carey song" (that's not so surprising)

"Conference held to debate status of Pluto's existence" (poor Pluto...it just can't catch a break)

"Researchers warn public against eating ..." (oh shoot, I sneezed...WHAT DID IT SAY?!?!?!?!?)

Anyway, instead of watching t.v. last week, I found something more interesting to make the time pass.  COMPETITION!  BATTLE!  A RACE!!!  This middle-school girl next to me was thinking she was all bad, trucking along at 7 miles per hour (mph).  She would sometimes accelerate to 7.5, but only for a lap or two.  'Hah' I thought to myself...'I can beat that easily'.  She already had about a mile head start, so I had my work cut out for me.  I slowly worked my way up to 7 mph over the span of 10 minutes or so (you can pull a hammy or a quaddy if you're not careful).  But she was still way ahead of me...this time, the gap was 1.5 miles.

With a cold hard determination, the kind which a hunter experiences when he sets down his electric handwarmers next to his mini-t.v. in his tree house ("deer stand") to take aim at the wild prey he has been "hunting" all morning (i.e. the deer eating the Cheetos he spread out on the ground below), I went in for the kill.  I pushed the little button to accelerate up to 7.5 mph to match my foe's speed.  I could see that she started to become nervous, because she started changing the channel on her t.v.  But I wasn't finished...I accelerated even further.  7.7...8.0...8.3...8.5...4.0 (I started to kind of black out here)...6.0...6.5...7.1.

I was only 0.05 miles behind her now.  Finally, I would be the one in the lead, with no one left to challenge my athletic prowess.  Just when I could finally taste victory, it happened.  She hit "stop" on her treadmill and walked away.

NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

I was just 0.03 miles behind at that point.  The nerve!  She knew that I was about to win, and couldn't take the bitterness of defeat.  I mean, what kind of person gets so caught up in competition?

I went ahead and kept running, but it just wasn't the same.  I'm like the horse in Seabiscuit...I need a challenge before I really kick into gear to run like a stallion.  But, I had a glimmer of hope when I saw an 90-year-old man slowly approach the vacant treadmill next to me.  'Aha', I thought to myself.  'COMPETITION!!!'