Frenemies

This morning I was doing easy 7:10s around Prospect, just enjoying the moist air that felt as if it would turn to pure liquid at any moment, breezing past the usual cast of characters (the moms out for an early jog without baby, struggling to lose those last 10 lbs, the weird speedwalkers, the guy with the beard) and who passes me but her. L. My nemesis.

"Hey T! Long time no see!" She called, smiling and pretending to sound like we were friends.

"Pleasant day, L." I said curtly in response, making sure that it was clear from my voice that I was not breathing hard.

L. wasn't always my nemesis. There was a time when I was her mentor. I considered us friends. She clearly didn't see it that way. Now that I have that 20/20 hindsight, I realize that she was using me all along. Pretending to be my training partner so that she could steal my secrets. I showed her my favorite hills - hills you never see anyone else doing repeats on. I even taught her my top secret chamois cream formula when her crotch was raw from only 3 hours of riding. And how did she repay me? The way a pimp repays a ho - with a slap and a wad of crack. OK, I made up the part about crack (unless you count the time when her bike shorts were so worn through you could see her ass, but that's another story).

Because of L., I learned my lesson. Thank you L., for teaching me never to trust anyone but myself (and of course, Supersoulmate B.).

But today was my day to teach L. another lesson. One she had obviously forgotten.

As L. ran by me I realized I had a few options. I could accelerate handily now and put her out of her misery. I could continue running my slow, easy pace (not really an option - DUH!). Or I could track her like the lion tracks an innocent woodland creature (only in this scenario, L. isn't exactly innocent, more like a wolf or a boar, but I'm not sure lions eat wolves or pigs).

I let L. get about 40 yards in front of me and then I never let her go, yet I never passed her. You see, we still had a mile until THE HILL. There is only one hill in Prospect, and it will cripple the weak. Finally we came to the hill. It was time to work my magic. So I accelerated, closing the gap by 20 yards, now I was just 10 yards in front of her. Time to strike!

I took a big breathe of air and zoomed past her, making an "Hmph" sound as I went by, as if to say "You didn't really think you'd beat me, did you?" L. tried to keep up. I could tell. But there's no way L. can hold a 6;30 pace going uphill. I never taught her how. As much as I wanted to look back I didn't. That would admit to her that I cared about her. And I don't. Well, I care only about her as much as a lion cares about its next meal. She is my competition, and I thrive on competition.

ROAR!