What the heck am I doing?

Normally, I'm pretty good about turning down requests to do stuff I'm not completely certain about.

I used to accept questionable invitations on the assumption that it would downgrade my "Coolness Factor" (CF) should I decline. A few years ago, though, I discovered that my CF (and the associated "Friendship Strength Index") were so low to begin with that my attendance behaviors did not significantly affect either measure. In other words, when you're a dork, it doesn't matter if you play with the cool kids...you're still gonna be a dork. And the people who consider you a friend have accepted your dorkiness already, so they'll forgive you for additional event attendance truancy. So under my current policy, if I'm not completely convinced that I'll enjoy myself at a particular event, I simply choose not to attend.

But I have now succumbed to two consecutive exceptions to this rule. Not sure what's going on in my head...perhaps I'm just starved for attention or something.

First, I agreed to meet my brother at a political fundraiser. It didn't sound too difficult; show up, eat dinner, be nice to a few hand-shakers, and cough up a few bucks for the cause. Like most Americans, I've been dismayed with the conduct of both the state and local governments of late, and figured it wouldn't hurt to do what I can to help install representatives that aren't quite so...well, stupid. So even though it was scheduled for later in the evening than I like to stay up, I figured I could handle it.

The second decision, though, is the one that makes me doubt my sanity. For years now, my friend Kristen has been bugging me to enter a triathlon. I've steadfastly declined, on the basis that a) I don't want to spend the money, b) I'm not in shape, and c) I never know whether I'll have to work the weekend or not. Well, for reasons we'll discuss in a future post, item c) turned out not to play into this decision. And item b) was overridden by an unexplained urge to just get out and DO something competitive -- which may be a remnant from some emotional turbulence left over from doing the Triple Bypass a couple of weeks ago. So this time, when Kristen twisted my arm with increasing force (by which I mean she promised there'd be an extravagant post-race breakfast)...I caved. I entered the Lookout Mountain Sprint Triathlon.

In addition to the promise of "Country Club" food, this particular venue boasts some nice hills, an outdoor pool, and indoor plumbing. I figured if I was going to do a sprint triathlon, why not do it someplace that's beautiful and comfortable? And since it was the first year for the event to be held, it occured to me that there might not be that many geezers my age entering the darn thing. They were giving awards to 3rd Place, and it's mathematically conceivable that there could be only three old guys in the race. So -- What the heck...I'm in!

And of course, as soon as I get the PayPal receipt, the buyer's remorse kicks in. What was I thinking? I'm not a triathlete. I run like a walrus, sunburn easily, and don't own any of the requisite clothing. I haven't practiced transitions for decades, and am certainly not going to do the "run without socks" thing that the serious guys do. My feet are tender, and by grabs, I needs my tootsie padding, man.

I don't have aero bars on my bike, don't have a pointy teardrop helmet, and don't have any triangular tattoos. My sunglasses are the dweebish kind that clip over my trifocals, and I transport my bike by throwing it on its side in the back of my 12-year-old, decidedly non-Lexus station wagon.

Then there's the whole "pasty white fat guy" thing...which is OK when you're at a Masters swim meet, but not so much when you're immersed among a group of chisled bronzed gods. I'm not a Vegan, I can't tell you what brand of shoes I wear, and I have no idea how many teeth are on the cogs of my bike freewheel. I'm definitely out of my element in a race like this.

Oh, and then there's the fact that this is a "sprint" triathlon...and I HATE sprints.

But I paid my money -- and if nothing else, I'm certain I'll perform well at the breakfast. It should be fun, and I promise to give you a complete report.

Until then, have a great day!