Call Me "Triathlete"

Yesterday I did a triathlon. I had always dreamed about entering a contest that would measure my prowess against that of others who had, like me, been sacrificing their social lives for muscularity. In high school,while my classmates practiced putting on eyeliner, I toned my abs. While they fretted over boys, I focused on my stroke. While they mooned over Toy Donahue, I mooned over the prize-$1000. I was an amateur in a world of pros,small in a world of bigs, but with my robust abs, perfect eye hand coordination, and eye on the money, I had a fighting chance at winning Nathan's annual frankfurter eating contest. I had only to pace myself on the sauerkraut. Unfortunately, notwithstanding my training, I was bested by Schmuel Minkleman, the four time winner. By golly, Schmuely was fast. In five minutes, he downed sixteen franks to my thirteen. I was runner-up and won a year of Nathan's french fries. The loss was crushing, the psychological devastation only slightly offset by the seventy-two pounds of sublime french fries I devoured that year.
Thanks to Schmuely's rout, an event discussed at length with my therapist, until this year I avoided competitive sport. I had, of course, heard the word "triathlon." It had an alien sound that was, nevertheless, alluring. I looked it up. Three sports rolled into one contest-swimming, cycling and running. I could do that. Okay, not those three sports. Who chose those anyway? I would choose my own three physically challenging sports that I had been training at for years, hold a contest and leave those pussy swimmers, runners and all around mishegoyim in the dust.
The first activity is changing the closets from winter to summer. Twenty four winter coats must be moved from the front closet rack to the back rack while simultaneously moving the summer jackets from the back rack to the front. That over,catching your breath and using only a step stool, the mukluks, boots and shoes of the winter collection must be gathered and paired from under the bed and placed in boxes on the top shelf of the closet while the espadrilles, sandals and peek toes are taken down and placed paired under the bed.
The second activity involves going to Ikea in Brooklyn by public transportation. You must take the number 2 or 4 train and wait at Boro Hall for the Ikea bus. It comes weekly. When you arrive, you are given an item to locate. A 12 inch lipped shelf, for example. You may not leave the store until you locate it. If you are able to find the item in fewer than five circumnavigations of the premises, you will definitely win this portion of the contest, and stand a good chance of winning the event in its entirety. It is this event that culls the field.
The last event involves endurance and the ability to withstand pain. Wearing any shoes but sneakers, you go to the Metropolitan Museum and view five exhibits without sitting down or stopping at a bathroom. (The gift shop does not count as an exhibit.) You must remember one fact or art object from each of the exhibits.
My triathlon is the comsummate democratic event. It requires no expensive equipment(a step stool, unlike a bike, costs under $15 ) and no gym membership, but is nevertheless grueling. It is helpful to do carb loading the evening before--Nathan's french fries work well--and you will definitely require the day following as a sick day. But if you work at it, you, like me, can be a triathlete.