Tricycle Tours and Gallumphing Mamas

You know how awful it is when you hear a recording of your own voice? Especially if you're not into TV or Radio and don't have to listen to yourself for a living. 

Well, I saw a video clip last night that captured me running alongside my cycling 3 year old at the Argus Tricycle Tour 2008 yesterday. Running. Me. The non-gym fanatic. The holder of the I'm-not-built-to-run excuse. How painful is that? Let me tell you.

If you think hearing your own voice is bad, try, if you can, to translate that audio response into a visual reaction linked to rapid motion, and then times that by 700. Ouch! If I knew that's what I looked like when I ran, I would ban me ever taking more than a leisurely stride. In fact, I would be sure that I never hurry anywhere. On foot. (I had to add that, because I can drive pretty well, and I'm fairly competent on roller-blades even if I haven't used them as an official form of transportation in the last 10 years or so).

But watching myself run was a personally painful experience. Not only do I think I have a "Heavy" Run (a bit like a charging refrigerator), but having to see the way my body responds to increased motion is really not aesthetically pleasing. Apart from the obvious bits that get a bit wobbly during a run (note to self: should have worn better support), I was not impressed by the strained expression on my face. I seriously looked like I was been tortured. There was this pained look in my eyes which would belong better in a dentist's chair during root-canal surgery than on a race track. No matter how hard I tried, I just could not look at all good being a bit overweight, sweating profusely and trying desperately to keep up with a very accomplished little cyclist. I guess that the real pain comes from the fact that I had secretly hoped, somehow, that I would look really fabulous beside my speedy little tyke on her bike. That the other moms accompanying their kids to the race would look at us and think "Wow - what a cool mom! Wish I could keep up with my 3 year old AND look so completely fantastic!" It was a nasty wake-up call seeing the truth captured on film. A pitiful replay, to say the least.

The real cherry-on-top of this excruciating ordeal for me was the cheerful voice I was using to mask my discomfort. "Keep it up!", "Faster! Faster! OK, not so fast!", "Don't ride into the other children, Love!" and "Wait for me, Sweetie!" when all I really wanted to do was lie down under a pine tree and throw up (well, maybe not in that order). And, having been reminded of what my voice sounds like, the thought of that all mixed up with my tragic sprint is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

But beside all that, the girls raced beautifully!