Running On Empty

October 21, 2010

If I ran a dating agency, I think I would have as one of my provisos that two deeply competitive people should probably not get married and then live together forever.

“Right, can you help me lift this bed?” said my Dad to The Mushroom.  The bed was in the middle of the room, pretty much where a bed should be. My Dad doesn’t like beds in the middle of the room. When pressed, he stutters something about ‘just liking the wall, that’s all’. I think it’s more to do with his Achilles heel – werewolves.  More of this another time.

“Course,” replies The Mushroom in a kind of grunt, maybe to make her seem stronger and more manly (note to The Mushroom; don’t try to make yourself seem more manly. I don’t think as a rule husbands like it, especially not husbands who witnessed the ‘pregnancy beard’ and thus have slight – but nonetheless deep rooted – doubts as to your gender at birth). “No problem.”

The Mushroom does, admittedly, have strangely big arm muscles.

“1-2-3; LIFT!”

“I…can’t….it’s…..too…..heavy!” groaned The Mushroom.

She put the bed down. My Dad looked at her. She was hyperventilating a bit.  “You’re not very fit, are you? For someone who claims to be very fit.”

Hello, Bull. How are you? Are you well? Here’s a red rag. Would you like it? Excellent.

“I frigging AM fit. I’m fitter than you!”

My Dad – not even remotely affected by the bed lifting – put his hands on his hips and looked at her. “I run thirty miles a week. I train a football team of five days a week. I train cadets once a week. No, love, you are not fitter than me. You are thinner than me, which is a different thing, and a good thing, because you are four foot eleven inches tall and if you weighed the same as me you would be the exact shape of an egg.”

(She did weigh the same as him once. When she was very pregnant. She did, actually, look EXACTLY like an egg.)

The Mushroom thinks she’s fit because she does Pilates. PILATES. I can frigging do Pilates; it’s just stretching, presumably in the manner of the Roman who crucified Jesus. It’s not a sport.

 The Mushroom decided to prove him wrong, and so she went for a run.

Here are a few key things she probably should have thought of:

1. Trainers. I think they’re more than a desirous thing for effective running. I think if you’re just running for a bus, or running after a dog, or any kind of momentary running, you’re okay without them. But if you’re ‘going for a run’, I think you need them. Hiking boots were probably not designed with running in mind, hence the name.

2. Warming up. Generally considered a good thing, too.

3. Waiting a bit after you’ve eaten.

Anyway, off she went, ten minutes after dinner, in her hiking boots and returned five minutes later, looking purple and limping. She has been walking like she’s developed rickets ever since.

I must therefore conclude, as an objective observer, that my Dad is fitter than The Mushroom.

The bed is still in the middle of the room.


One Response to “Running On Empty”

  1. notwavingbutironing said

    He needs to sleep by the wall, he can’t stand a night light – does your Dad have any more irritating nighttime requests? He sounds like a ponce. (I’m just sticking up for the Mushroom, here. There’s nothing worse than a cardiovascularly superior husband. Smug doesn’t cover it.)

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