Pride and Prejudice

It is amazing what types of pain we are willing to endure with the right type of motivation. Motives, though, are just as likely to be bad as they are good, even though the results are as rosy as a Jane Austen novel sunset-ed ending.

Take for instance this morning while swimming in the pool. I was cruising along minding my own business when this young athletic type lady gets into a swimming lane next to me. This lady has been a regular at the pool, and so I am familiar with her swimming abilities. It gets a little complicated, but it is often good to know people's swimming abilities when the pool gets crowded and you have to share lanes with multiple people. The last thing that you want to do is have a head on collision with someone at torpedo ramming speed. I've never reached speeds anywhere close to that, but there are a few speedsters out there that, occasionally, I have heard break the sound barrier. Either that or they are 'passing' more than just fellow swimmers.

Anyway, I am really digressing. It's good to know how fast a person swims, if they tend to drift left or right, etc., so if it is crowded you can make the appropriate course corrections at the right times, anticipating whatever dangers the other swimmer might pose to you. Well, this lady that I am referring to is a good consistent swimmer that starts out fast and then settles into a pace that I can usually lap every 8 or 9 laps (believe me there are very few that I can do this to). She hopped into the pool, sped through her first couple of laps and then settled into a drafting pattern right astern to me. I thought that this was odd so I cranked up the speed a little. She continued to match my speed, which really began to bug me. I was thinking to myself, "she can't do this to me, I'm supposed to be kicking her backside."

So, I pushed on hitting each lap faster and faster, still not being able to shake her. The pain began to steadily increase as I pumped my arms and legs faster and faster. All of this additional flailing began to cause a slight wardrobe malfunction. The knot in the trunks of my waistband began to come lose and my shorts started creeping south. I ignored it at first, but eventually the feeling of my shorts riding too low began to be as uncomfortable as the pain I was experiencing in my lungs and arms. I was not about to stop for the 2 seconds that it would take to stop and readjust the main sail and batten down the hatch. She would over take me causing a rift in the space time continuum, dropping me in the all important swimmer's pecking order if I got passed. I was not going to be outdone, besides it was my duty to keep everything right in the universe. So, I forged on, and my shorts kept creeping off.

She kept pace with me for a good 3/4 of a mile, a few times coming close to passing me, but every time I was always able to find something extra to keep me ahead. Eventually, I slowly began to pull away getting a half lap up on her. I knew that I had broken her spirit or was it simply that she became ill when she noticed that my swim trunks were down to my knees? I do know that I had set a new personal best by 5 minutes in 1 1/2 miles.

The question still lingers for me. Was my triumph a result of my pride or due to my prejudice?
Answers maybe only a Victorian era author would know.

[Is it just a coincidence that it seems like the majority of my stories involve having problems keeping my toushie covered?]