Runners and peer pressure

Don’t know if I set a very good example for the Ozlings this morning.

They both still are in elementary school, but we already have been warning them about the evil pull of peer pressure and, more importantly, how to resist.

Some of your so-called friends, we say, eventually may offer you drugs (“No, not like the ibuprofen daddy pops like M&M’s after a long run. Some drugs aren’t really medicine and don’t come from the doctor,” I say), some may offer you alcohol (“Yes, little Ozling, no need to be alarmed that daddy is drinking a couple of glasses of wine with dinner tonight. The kind of alcohol your “friends” may offer is different,” I say, drifting off for a moment as I recall various dalliances in the past – it really was a long time ago -- with wine coolers, pitchers of beer and the occasional pitcher of Kamikazes…..Mmmm, Kamikazes…), and some may offer you various forms of inappropriate hanky panky (“Umm, we aren’t going to get into the details of this just yet. Probably not a problem because I don’t think you are going to be allowed to date boys until you are 35, maybe 38,” I tell my little blonde daughter of an Ozling.)

But if the Ozlings’ peers offer them miles, my advice definitely is going to have to be of the do as I say, not as I do variety. Anybody offers me the chance to run a few extra miles, I obviously have no defenses.

I can’t explain it. This morning, I clearly gave in to peer pressure.

The all-important schedule for the race that has yet to be officially entered called for 12 or 14 miles this morning. I still am trying to be cautious and pretty much had decided I would put in a respectable 12 as I drove to the group run this morning.

Then as we all said our typical “Good Mornings” and exchanged our “How far are you goings?” a trio of the folks I typically run with all said 14. “I was thinking 12,” I said, “but what the heck? I’ll join you for 14.”

That’s how it starts, I guess.

My mother always wondered if all my friends jumped off a cliff into a lake, would I join them? Guess I proved this morning what kind of stuff I am made of. No making up my own mind and remaining true to my convictions for me. No siree. If my buddies ever went flying off a tall cliff, I clearly would find myself floating in air, screaming “Cowabunga!!!” before it dawned on me, “What did I just do?”

Guess I’ll need to be careful in the future if I ever see my pals going for a hike along a trail flanked by high cliffs and steep drop offs. And I’ll definitely need to make sure I stay away from the guys in the Saturday morning group who are training for an ultra marathon.

“How far are you going?” I might ask. “Oh, 24, 25,” they’ll reply. “Want to join us?”

Yikes.