My house is a hot bed for competition. Somehow, we have all morphed into these people who view everything in life as an opportunity to "win." The girls compete in a multitude of ways, including but not limited to, who can eat faster, who can get dressed faster, who can balance on one foot longer and who has the best singing voice.
J and I are not immune to these competitions. In recent months, our competitions have centered around our running. Who ran faster, further, longer. Dailymile has really upped our game.
And if it wasn't enough that we are constantly comparing our workouts, now we are having competitions about "who is fitter." For example, on Monday night, J decided to measure his resting heart rate. So, he put on his heart rate monitor, laid down and relaxed. A few minutes later, the monitor was reading 43.
I'm thinking, "What? 43? Last time I checked, mine was 41 (right before I upped my mileage from 25-40 miles per week). No way is his as low as mine."
So, like any sane individual who has a constant urge to win, I told J to hand over the heart rate monitor. I needed to check mine. I put it on and laid down. And do you know what it said?
Heck yeah. Take that Lance Armstrong and your resting heart rate of 32.
Hey, no one said I was a gracious winner ...