Swim, Bike, Run – Be Happy.

Swimmers, Cyclists and Runners. Why do we all hate each other?

“Can I have a £1 coin for the locker please?” Probably the only words I’ve actually said to anyone during my training in all of swimming, cycling and running. Whats the deal with us? Why do we hate each other so much?
Lets go in order;
Swimmers – defiantly not a social sport for chatting away while we crack on, but where does the rudeness and social awkwardness end? Heres a few reasons why we all secretly hate each other:
When finishing a length and planning on not turning for another – pick a side. Don’t pull up to a stand in the middle of the wall.
Follow the arrows – A couple of guys in the pool last week were doing their own thing and when I joined the lane, the concept of anti-clockwise arrows was out. This was the way they were doing it before I got in and that wasn’t going to change.
Let faster people passed. It takes a second of realisation to stop, let the guy on your heels through and just enjoy his draft! I’m so average at swimming, I’m between medium and fast lanes, and I’ve always had the mantra of doing things with people that are better than you will bring you up to speed, rather than trophy hunting in the lower categories.
But I pride myself on my etiquette in the pool in the hope it is reciprocated. I am grateful when it is, but how long do you get between turns to say that? Not very. So, we may appear rude but we actually do appreciate people letting us through, and if you can convey that in a breath then wow – you are a nice guy.

Cyclists – a nod to the guys going in the other direction is enough to get you by. But do you nod first and get ignored – which pisses you right off – or do you gamble and wait for their acknowledgement, taking your eyes off the potholes in a vein attempt to be wanted?
You both pull up at traffic lights. You’ve got a 2 minute window of conversation; ‘Been anywhere nice?’ A brief conversation is there to be had, the first one in 3 hours with someone else who likes to ride – a perfect person to chew the fat with – a window of lycra clad bro-mance.
‘How far is that’ Amber.
‘What time did you set…?’ Green, gone. ‘Sorry, I didn’t even get your name…’
The none-nodders are usually the ones checking your bike is good enough to be worthy of a nod. Then its too late. By the time they’ve checked out you’re seriousness enough for the right of passage for recognition they’re gone. ‘Fuck you then, I’m never nodding at anyone again’, you chunter under your breath before its time to move on to the next guy who you can take out your irrational hate on.
Oh, hang on, a nod this time. Good lad. We should go for a pint – if you weren’t going in the other direction and not on a Raleigh Burner with a fluorescent newspaper bag across your shoulder and a confused look on your face.
I’ll hold my hands up, I did this next one once – overtaken by a decent looking rider and then up the pace an iota to draft him for a few miles. You know yourself its bad etiquette so even try to stay out of his peripheral vision, and spittle. When the sunday drafters do it to you – raging! You worked your ass off for them up that hill to the lights! Now who doesn’t want to talk?

Runners – again, a nod in the opposite direction will suffice? But how in the zone they are is always a good judge. My secret little goal is never to be overtaken on a run. Thats the thing about us, we never know how far the other guy has been, or how far they have to go, so you genuinely can’t judge them fairly on ability – just how up for a nod they are.
We’ll never know how good a runner the other guy is, but its fair to say neither of you believe the other one never has been, or ever will be as good as you. You may even push the chest out a bit and suddenly have perfect form when someone is else is maybe looking. We may as well hit the deck and start counting press up’s ’97, 98, 99…’ Just as long as you think that they think you’re awesome.
All in all, the general public hate each other. And it’s our own fault you bastards!