Tyrannosaurus Rex. The meanest, baddest, carnivore of all time. Other dinos likely feared him. Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park certainly did.
Everyone knows what T. Rex looked like. Huge legs, strong tail, immense head. Teeny-tiny arms.
According to my kids, I run like a T. Rex. They passed me on my long run Sunday afternoon (they were out and about in the car with their mother). Upon finishing my run, they literally attacked me and in unison told me that I looked like a T. Rex.
At first, I was pretty pleased with this comparison. Certainly, I would have preferred to have been compared to the graceful and swift cheetah, but I’ll take the tyrant lizard king. Not only would I have the most powerful bite of anyone (useful when eating energy bars and chews), there’s research that shows that T. Rex could probably reach 30-45 mph in an all-out sprint, but maintain 18 mph. That’s pretty dang fast! (Actually….that’s REALLY fast….like 3:20 minutes per mile fast).
But no. Comparing my running to that of a T. Rex had nothing to do with speed.
Nor did it relate to my abnormally large melon. Yes, my kids think I have a head of proportionate size with a T. Rex. And while my head may be a little on the large size, it doesn’t account for a large portion of my body weight.
It boiled down to the arms.
Apparently, my kids thought I was carrying my arms too high…basically up near my armpits. And since I don’t clinch my hands into fists while I run, they thought my hands looked like claws. Basically, since my hands were so high, and so short-looking, I became a T. Rex.
I guess it could have been worse. For now, you can just call me Rex.