Failure to Communicate

Monday morning I walk into the office I share with Lindsey and Allison, a bit of a half-spring, half-limp in my step.

“Good morning, ladies.”

(Overlapping)

“Morning.”

“Morning, Robert.”

I place my travel mug on my desk, pull my Polar Bottle® out of my bag and settle it next to the mug, and in conspicuous fashion nonchalantly slide an energy bar over to the keyboard. I stand and survey the office, reflecting on the day ahead. Feels good.

Lindsey pulls her eyes up from the monitor and stares at me for a second.

“Wow. Pleats.”

“Yep. Thought I’d move my wardrobe into 2008, know what I mean?”

Lindsey and Allison share a look. Lindsey slaps the palm of her hand on her forehead. Allison laughs.

Yeah. Clearly they are impressed.

I settle in, turn on my computer, enter my password.

Waiting for it to boot up, I clasp my hands behind my neck and kick back.

Sigh.

“7:33. Yep. 20 at 7:33. Those are my numbers.”

Lindsey looks up, confused.

“Are you having password trouble?”

“Nope. That’s what I did this weekend. 20 miles at 7:33.”

“You drove 20 miles?”

“No, Lindsey, I ran 20 miles.”

Pause.

“Well, I guess what follows is the obvious question. Why?”

“Why? Why?! How do I even begin to answer that? “

Pause.

Lindsey does not take this as rhetorical and waits for an answer.

“Because, Lindsey, it’s . . . . it’s just awesome, that’s why. “ Flustered, “I . . . I can’t explain it. “

“I see. What’s the big deal about 7:33? Why run at 7:33 in the morning?”

“Oh my god. Lindsey that was my pace. My pace. And the reason why that rocked was that it was a mere nine seconds off my MGP.”

“Uh . . . . MGP?”

Oh my god. I feel so alone.

“Allison, can you help me out here?”

“Don’t ask me, I do Pilates.”

Totally frustrated, I retreat into the computer screen.

Lindsey tries a different tack. “No really. I think that’s a great accomplishment. Just chill, okay? Work with me here. It sounds incredibly difficult.”

I loosen up a bit. “Yeah, it was hard, but I was in control. I didn’t have my GPS, so I didn’t know where the miles were, but I think I had a negative split.”

“Oh, man, sorry.”

“No, negative split is good.”

“Oh.”

Pause.

"And at mile 18 I dropped the bomb."

"That's disgusting. Thanks for sharing."

"It's running terminology, Lindsey."

"Whatever you say."

Pause.

“Are you, uh, sore at all?”

“You know, I don’t feel that bad. Left leg is bothering me a little. Lingering nerve thing I have. And I got some major chafing. I was so worried about getting out the door on time I forgot to lube up.”

Lindsey, startled, with a bit of panic in her voice, “Uh . . . you . . . ‘lube up!?’”

“That’s it, this is pointless. It’s like we’re on different planets, Lindsey! I’m going to go talk to Todd. He’s in Rogue. He’s one of us!”