#4 "Familial Support"
P.S.
When running a race, they say never try anything that you haven't tried during training (like in this comic).
If you do, Murphy's Law will pounce all over you, and things will go horribly wrong. Practicing with crowd support
while running on a treadmill might be an idea that's ahead of it's time. It might
help with focus on race day while under the intense scrutiny of the crowds lining the race course.
I train on the treadmill often, and sometimes I'm running for hours. So, to break things up, I've tried to get my wife to do this, but she would only agree to 1-2 looks into the room and muttering a monotone "yay." I'll take it. She and I are not competitive with each other, but competition for attention within families certainly is nothing new. I'm also a musician, so perhaps this comic is some expression of some repressed anger I have because I had to take a back seat to one of my parents when I was 14. But since it's still repressed, and can't remember any such thing, I'll chalk it up to a reach for comedy. Repression isn't necessarily a bad thing. Seems like a handy tool in getting on with life, sometimes.
Wow, I just remembered the time my father made my friends and me a spaghetti dinner. "How many meatballs do you want?" He called to us. We were sitting in a room down the hall from the kitchen. We yelled out various numbers greater than or equal to 3. He then walked in and asked "Are you sure?" He was holding a meatball the size of a basketball! I haven't thought about that in thirty years. Glad that memory unrepressed itself.
I train on the treadmill often, and sometimes I'm running for hours. So, to break things up, I've tried to get my wife to do this, but she would only agree to 1-2 looks into the room and muttering a monotone "yay." I'll take it. She and I are not competitive with each other, but competition for attention within families certainly is nothing new. I'm also a musician, so perhaps this comic is some expression of some repressed anger I have because I had to take a back seat to one of my parents when I was 14. But since it's still repressed, and can't remember any such thing, I'll chalk it up to a reach for comedy. Repression isn't necessarily a bad thing. Seems like a handy tool in getting on with life, sometimes.
Wow, I just remembered the time my father made my friends and me a spaghetti dinner. "How many meatballs do you want?" He called to us. We were sitting in a room down the hall from the kitchen. We yelled out various numbers greater than or equal to 3. He then walked in and asked "Are you sure?" He was holding a meatball the size of a basketball! I haven't thought about that in thirty years. Glad that memory unrepressed itself.
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Crusted Salt comics by Jimmy Brunelle
©2012-2017
©2012-2017