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"Hey hon come look at these women's breasts," that's what Ron called from the living room in my parent's house.
OK I thought, this whole thing about Ron considering me his "buddy" is going too far. I'll match beers with him, hang with his friends, listen to dirty jokes, but ogling women, I draw the line. However, he was watching an Ironman triathlon and wanting to get geared up for mine this weekend, I thought, why not.
If you've never seen an Ironman athlete all I can say is "whoa." Words cannot describe the physiques these people have. I watched an old guy, his arms like rippling steel, his sinewy legs pumping like pistons, and he was running faster than I could even in my dreams. (To be fair when I run in my dreams, I'm usually running away from danger and I'm running as if I'm wading through quicksand.)No wonder Ron was checking these women out.
What stunned me most is that the race is a 12 mile run, 26 mile bike ride and like a 1.5 mile swim. Or something like that, but pretty close. And there were old guys doing it and paraplegic guys in wheelchairs doing it, women with diseases that cause constant pain, and even a man pushing his son who has cerebral palsey. They all finished the race. And I'm struggling with my "mini" triathlon which is half the endurance of the Ironman. And I'm not carrying anything but a dozen extra pounds.
"See, if old men can do it and men in wheelchairs, I should be able to finish my race just fine," I told Ron who has never really thought I should do the tri because of my back problems. He said my body was not made for athletics. And that's exactly what he was trying to point out.
"But look at these women's breasts," he said.
"What breasts?" I asked.
"Exactly my point. They have none. You do. Lots."
OK, OK, point taken, right? I wasn't swayed though. I'm going to do it. If athletes can overcome missing limbs or debilitating disease to finish the Ironman I can overcome the burden of having an ample bossom.
I think. Although it will probably hurt. A lot.
I'll let you know. Wish me luck.
