You know when you’re not very good at something and someone comes along and shows you how it’s done? It’s a crushing defeat knowing you’ll never be very good, but you smile politely and say, “Wow, you’re amazing. Really.” And you go home and eat a packet of Tim Tams, pace furiously and think about how you can get revenge.
So some people choose to handle this sort of thing maturely, and say to themselves, “What can I learn from that?” and, “I need to lift my game.”
But not me. No siiireeeee. Instead, I find its heaps more fun to simmer on a low heat and devise clever ways to punish them for their perfection.
So this very situation happened only last week. Already insecure about my abilities in the arena of all things fitness-related, I decided to start small. I asked a neighbour to go running with me. Just a small 2k run beside the creek and then maybe a coffee and bacon roll at my usual stop.
We were about 300 metres in when I began to regret my choice of companion.
She effortlessly bounced along, and when she turned back to see me – hopeless, bent double and holding onto a tree in case I fell over – she jogged back and pranced in ever tightening circles around my almost prostrate form.
“What’s wrong Meg? Come on, keep up!” And she bounded ahead, and returned to me and my tree in a ridiculous loop, not a bead of sweat in sight. I silently visualised a dog poop on the trail ahead, then chided myself – I could step in that just as easily.
The rest of the ‘run’ was pretty much the same and by the end, she had run about eight km during her ping-pong-like escapades. And she still wasn’t sweating. I, on the other hand, needed a towel and knew the texture of every tree along the way.
“You are so fit,” said I. “What an inspiration you are!”
“Well, I work pretty hard. Want me to help you?”
I smiled through my gritted teeth and shook my head. “Thanks though.”
She shrugged and we went for coffee. Hers was a decaf skinny, her breakfast fruit and greek yogurt. She smiled at me with her perfect teeth and sparkling eyes, flipping her perfectly blond hair every so often.
To add insult to injury, she then said, “You should eat healthier. It would help, you know.”
“Heh heh, thanks. Yeah, I really should.” I said, wiping the grease from my lips.
“And maybe think about a manicure.”
“Huh? What for?”
“So you feel better, silly. Besides, guys like a woman who keeps herself looking good. I could lend you some magazines, so you can have a look.”
I was staring at her thinking how I’d like to push her off a cliff.
And if you push someone off a cliff, it’s problem solved.
I settle for the visualisation and smile evilly in my coffee. No need for revenge on this one. But I ate the packet of Tim Tams anyway.