A Spherical, Frictionless Chicken

So, based upon Nytro's shot across my bow, I am apparently supposed to concede two things: (1) well, how exactly do I say this without being unseemly about an ironman's wife . . . let's just say . . . lycra is flattering to her assets, and (2) I have chutzpah . . . or as she put it, "great big hot wasabi balls."

Both will I graciously concede. My big, hot huevos are usually not the subject of polite commentary, but whatever. Nytro tends to redefine everything, including polite commentary, and I concede their weighty profundity. As for any commentary about how va va voom the former Athena is becoming, that would be tacky. So I will not wax eloquent, as it would be so obviously easy to do, about the shapely Nytro's lycra clad . . . um . . . **cough**, . . . .

What were we talking about?

Anyway, I thought I would look at the physics of this SOMA experiment. Brett of the Zentri Army recently noted the joke about physicists. You begin any experiment in physics completely divorced from reality: "Assume a spherical, frictionless chicken." Let's apply the logic to SOMA, shall we?

If Nytro were a spherical, frictionless chicken, at 169 poundaroos and clad in her fetching lycra, she would need over 31 million foot/pounds of force to propel her the 185,328 feet in her half of a half that she is racing. To be precise, she would need 31,320,432 foot pounds of force.

If Greyhound were a spherical, frictionless chicken, at 143 extremely taut and ripped poundaroos and clad in his team kit, Greyhound will need over 53 million foot/pounds of foce to propel me the sly dog the 370,656 feet in SOMA half--the longest event offered on the day. To be precise, Greyhound needs 53,003,808 foot/pounds at his disposal.

This is where it gets interesting. With friction as a constant, I only need to use 84% of the power that Nytro uses to maintain the same velocity. As svelt as Nytro is at 169 poundaroos and at 9 feet tall, I am only 84% of her 169 poundaroos and approximately half her height apparently.

If I add friction into the chicken equation, I would have to start comparing swimming efficiency in a medium that is denser than air, and talking about aerodynamics on the bike and stide efficiencies on the run as a function of weight. It might devolve into comparing body shapes and name calling, which of course would be unseemly, even in a "salad dressing."

But . . . . . it comes down to the run. Ah, there's the rub. That is a matter of heart in addition to the percentage of VO2 max or lactate threshold required to get to the run. Even putting out 84% of the power, will the mighty Greyhound run like the mighty Greyhound after mile 60 of the race? Or instead, will he get his neck wrung like a middle-aged, spherical, fritionless chicken?

Cluck.

Cluck.