People have been asking, so I thought I’d let everyone know. I did end up beating my husband Doo in a triathlon a few weeks back (despite my inane decision to buy him an exceptionally fast bike). But only by 9 seconds.
That’s why I am officially announcing my retirement from any kind of race where Doo also is competing. Never again will I risk the chance of a humiliating defeat. My ego can’t take it and Doo is getting too good.
And it’s not just the bike. He’s always been a better biker. He may have passed me a bit sooner than expected, but I am used to having to catch him on the run. And here in lies the problem. Five years ago, Doo almost stroked out during the 5K leg. He walked a good portion of it and required a concerning amount of Gatorade and sitting to recover (I destroyed him in that race, by the way, even though I was suffering from a stomach virus that included vomiting and a low-grade fever. Super fun!).
From that day on, Doo has vowed to get in better shape and to one day cross the finish line before me. To that end, he has since completed two full marathons and a countless number of half-marathons. He has transformed himself into an athlete by sheer force of will. And his 8-inch height advantage effectively eliminates my willingness to die before letting him win.
I have no doubt Doo will emerge victorious next time, which is why I have decided there won’t be a “next time.” I mean, 9 seconds?