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The Greatest Race Ever – Atalanta versus Hippomenes

October 28, 2025 By SOCRATES Leave a Comment Filed Under: Silly stuff

The fastest human being on the planet, Atalanta, is being coached by her mentor, the beautiful Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis, before her next race.

I’m talking to you Allie. You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?

I’ve been watching your back since your lightweight, ratbag, mother popped you out and immediately let that dip shit of a father leave you on the mountain. Remember? He didn’t want a girl. Didn’t like girls. Left you on the mountain to freeze – or be eaten! Misogynistic prick.

Neither of them ever did you any favours. King and Queen? My arse? Pathetic excuses for royalty. After trying to kill you at birth, now they want you back. Why? Because you’re famous. Arguably the best archer and hunter in Greece. Certainly, the fastest runner. Never been beaten by male or female. And they haven’t got any horrible little male sproggets to pass their kingdom on to, so now they want their famous daughter – to one who they tried to get rid of –  to marry and carry on the family line.

Marry? You’re a hunter. You’re part of my team. An all-girl team. A leader of team Artemis. We don’t marry. We don’t need wussy blokes. You promised you’d never marry. Now you have this stupid deal with your old man that if any dude can beat you in a race you will marry him and jointly rule the kingdom with him.

“Come on Aunt Arty. Chill. It’s conceivable… just a bit… that some bloke in the cosmos might come along who can out-shoot, out-javelin, out-wrestle, out-ride or even out-hunt me… but there is not a man alive who can out-run me. I played that card pretty well. It was a good deal that I got the stupid old prick to agree to. I get to resume my rightful place in the palace and there is zero chance that anyone will beat me in a race and get to join me as ruler. I’ve already raced… how many times?  Seven, I think. Seven princes who wanted to marry me and inherit the kingdom. All of them good athletes. Some of them pretty cute too. One or two of them I wouldn’t have minded having their sandals parked under my bed for a night or two. But what happened? I kicked their sorry arses over four-hundred metres, and it was off with their heads. Poor bastards. Bit of a waste of good shagging talent, but the deal of win the race or end up with your head on a spike at the sports arena gates discourages most suitors. It’s all fine. I’m still your girl. I’m not going to let the team down.”

Just don’t forget who your real family is kid. When you were turning blue with cold and yowling on top of the mountain who was it who sent along one of her very own she-bears to nurse you and take you into its care? Your early years as a bear cub made you tougher, faster and stronger than any other kid… ever.

Then I sent a group of my hunting buddies along to take over the parenting. I’m not fond of blokes, generally, as you know, but these fellas were a hand-picked bunch of special mates who I really trust. Great hunters. Great people. No bullshit. They treated you with respect and love, didn’t they? They taught you to hunt. To shoot. To fight. By the time you hit your teen years you were better at everything than any of them. I was always there in the background. Nurturing you. Feeding you. Supporting you. Supervising your training.

“I know. I know. That’s why they named me Atalanta. The one who is “equal in weight” to any human. I haven’t forgotten my huntsmen parents and your role. My first love is to you and to the hunt! I have promised to not marry – and I intend to stick by my promise. No weakling of a man will ever outrun me.”

“Meddling every step of the way!”

I don’t know Allie. My sister… or is it my aunty… Aphrodite – (I’ve never been able to quite figure out that relationship) – has always had her eyes on you. She’s jealous of our partnership. She’s always up to her tricks. She’d love to get her lusty hands on you. She’d love to get you married off and shagging like a rabbit. Think back. Remember that Calydonian Boar prank we were behind. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to you (given that it was primarily my gig), but she, for sure, was sticking her pretty nose into the boar hunt. Meddling every step of the way, I reckon.

“How so? Tell me if I’ve got this wrong. You were pissed off at King Oenius of Calydon for neglecting his devotions to you in favour of old piss pot Dionysus, so you sent the world’s biggest and nastiest pig to ravage through the kingdom and bring all normal activities to a standstill. The people of the kingdom, sick of having their crops ripped apart, having their animals gored to death and having their kids eaten, understandably… given that it was his fault and that it was his job as the King…  requested Oenius to take some kind of action. He came up with the plan of calling together the greatest heroes in Greece to have a Grand Festival Hunt to rid the kingdom of the killer piggy. So… along came fifty or so of the best and the brightest examples of Greek manhood to save the day. You… as is your want… decided to set a cat amongst the pigeons by sending me along to join the hunt. Of course, lots of the blokes didn’t like the idea of having a sheila on their mission so you got me to challenge a few of them to an archery contest just to embarrass the poor bastards into letting me in on the hunt. I won, of course, and they were forced to let me join with them to embarrass them further. Have I got this right, so far. I can’t exactly see what Aphrodite has got to do with it.”

Think, girl. Meleager. The king’s son. What was going on there?

“Yeah! He was pretty hot, that dude. He was pretty keen on me too.”

Yeah. Look. You’re drop-dead gorgeous Atalanta. Almost as cute as me. But, even so, don’t you think it’s possible that bloody Aphrodite could have been meddling in the way you two were sparking with each other?

“The whole thing was pretty intense. So many blokes had their guts ripped out before I managed to get an arrow into that bloody hippo-sized pig’s neck? After I stuck him, it was Meleager who managed to get in close and finish the bastard off. Technically the trophy was Meleager’s, I guess, but the silly bugger insisted on giving the tusks to me. He must have known that his family were not going to let that happen. Dumb bastard. He went and killed four of his uncles over a couple of bloody tusks. I guess that was pretty stupid. He must have really had the hots for me. Maybe I can see a bit of Aphrodite’s work there.”

Consequences!

It got worse. He was a nice kid. Those uncles were pricks. They deserved it. But him killing them was never going to pass without consequences. Then his crazy mother killed him for doing in her brothers. Killed her son! Then she killed herself. Holy cow. What a day. In the end we achieved our objective of making life miserable for Oenius, but I never intended for it to turn as sour as it did. I tell you. Aphrodite had her hands all over this… and the kid carking it was her fault, I reckon.

“Maybe you’re right. Meleager had gone a bit mad. And, I must admit, I was lusting pretty heavily over him too.”

So, Allie. That’s why I want you to concentrate. I know you think that no one can beat you in a race but, I don’t trust the damned goddess of gonads. I wouldn’t put it past her trying to interfere with you again. What do you know about the kid you are racing today? Can he run? What’s his background? Has anyone ever heard of him?

“Some bloke called Hippomenes. I don’t think anyone’s ever heard of him. I figure he is some doe-eyed princeling from some far away principality. I don’t get it though. These dude’s know how fast I am, yet some keep coming. Idiots! I don’t want to have this fella killed. Have you noticed the way the kid looks at me? He’s head over heels in love with me. He’s a total spunk too. If I weren’t a committed virgin he’s just the kind of fella I’d invite around to inspect my hunting trophies.”

I know. But he’s made his choice. He’s willing to take the risk. Foolish… but it’s on him. Not your fault. You have to concentrate. Stick to your guns. You’re a hunter. Not the hunted.

“Okay Aunty Arty. The crowd is starting to build up for the race. What’s wrong with these people? I swear. They pretend to come because they love the sport, but I reckon they come to see some poor bastard getting his head cut off. Bloody ghouls. I better start getting ready. Where the hell are my running sandals?”

The race commences

Nice start, Allie. Holy crap. That kid isn’t very fast. What the hell. Lovesick or not, why would the idiot challenge the fastest runner in the world to a race when the consequence of a loss is a date with a big hairy bloke carrying a broad axe. Fool! Wow. You’re already so far in front that the crowd are starting to laugh at him. Hang on. No wonder they are laughing. The boy’s got a satchel slung over his shoulder. I’m betting that he is slow enough without the bag but carrying that thing is obviously going to make his situation worse.

What’s he doing now? The kid is reaching into the satchel and pulling something out. The crowd think he has decided to stop for a snack. They are laughing even harder.

Listen, Allie. Don’t let his fool behaviour get to you. Ignore him. Keep concentrating. Go hard!

“It will bewitch you!”

What’s that he’s got in his hand? An apple? He’s not going to eat it, surely? If this is not the weirdest suicidal behaviour I’ve ever seen. Hang on. Nup. He’s not eating it. What? He’s chucking the apple out in front of you, Allie. What the hell? Actually, sweet-heart, that isn’t any ordinary apple. That’s a golden apple. If I’m not mistaken it’s a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides. Don’t even look at it. It will bewitch you. I tell you now, Aphrodite is behind this. She’s helping the kid. She’s trying to tempt you to reach down and pick up the apple to slow you down. The Golden Apples of the Hesperides are symbols of power, fertility, vitality, and a whole bunch of other stuff. But you don’t need that. Don’t be conned!

“Aww come on, Aunty. I’m five meters in front of him and I’m not even trying. It won’t hurt to slow down a bit to pick up just one apple. Aphrodite, Athena and even Hera herself fought over those golden apples. Owning one proves that you are the most desirable creature in the world!”

Don’t. It’s a trick!

“Bugger that. I want an apple.”

No!

“Sorry. I’m reaching down and picking it up. Oh! Isn’t it lovely. This is a lovely apple.”

Allie. I thought you had more brains. The boy has passed you. Pull yourself together or you’ll end up being known as the hero who lost a race to a bloke carrying a fruit bowl.

“Relax Aunty. There you go. I’ve passed him again. Already. The kid runs like a three-legged basset hound.”

Oh Gods. He’s reaching into his bag again. What is it this time? A silver banana? No. Another bloody golden apple. Don’t even think about it Allie.

“Oh look, Aunty. He’s thrown another golden apple in my path.”

No! No more Golden Apples. Can’t you see what’s happening here. That bloody goddess of the groin is trying to seduce you. She wants you to lose the race. Leave the bloody apple alone and just get to the finish line. One hundred meters to go and you are only leading by 5 meters.

“Favour of the Gods, my arse!”

“Oh… it’s just as beautiful as the other one. It’s so wonderful to have two. Just think of all the good luck and favour of the gods these apples will bring me.”

Favour of the gods my arse, Allie. The bloody kid has passed you again. Stop slowing down. If the bugger beats you, you’ll have to marry him. Think about that.

“Aunt Artemis, stop worrying. I’ve already passed him again and only fifty meters to go. It’s a doddle. But I do quite like his legs. His back is kinda nice too. You know I am twenty-three years old and never had a boyfriend. It’s not exactly fair is it?”

Allie? Can you hear what you are saying? That’s Aphrodite getting in your ear. Don’t listen to her. You don’t need a bloke. You’re a hunter. You’re on the girl’s team. Just put your head down and finish the race. Hey. The bugger’s reaching into his bag again. Don’t react. Ignore him.

“He’s no idiot this one. This time he’s rolled an apple right off to the side of the track. Almost into the crowd.”

Allie? Where are you going? The finish line is right in front of you. Just ten more meters. Leave the apple alone.

“If the truth be known Artemis, I don’t think I give a rat’s arse about the third apple. If I’m completely honest I have to admit that I didn’t really want the second one either. I’m more interested in the bloke’s tight arse. But I may as well go along with the pretence. Where are you little golden apple? Get out of the way you lot. I’m trying to find the apple. Oh there it is. Got it. Back to the race.”

He’s passed you again, Atalanta. You’re throwing away your position as my right-hand man. Run. Run. Run.

“Oh dear. He just crossed the finish line. Beat me by half a meter. Who would have thought I could be beaten. The poor bugger has collapsed from exhaustion. Hope he’s okay. He’s quite red! He’s getting mobbed by the same people who were laughing at him a few minutes ago. Looks like I’ve got myself a husband… and a king to rule the country with. A very cute husband too. And I’ve got three golden apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. Not a bad day’s work.”

Allie! After all we’ve been through together. After all I’ve done for you. You’ve let that cow Aphrodite beat us. She was behind all this.

“Sorry Aunty Artemis. Don’t feel too bad. You will always be my first God. I’d be greatly honoured if you would agree to be my bridesmaid. You are certainly qualified for the job.”

SOCRATES

Short, fat, slow, uncoordinated and clumsy, ancient Athenian Socrates had very few of the physical quality required of the elite athlete. He did have, on the other hand, a better than average brain between his ears and a mouth that could talk opposing players, referees and coaches half into their graves. Socrates, as a sport analyst, is what the world needs and misses. He is an opinionated so-and-so that actually thinks deeply about sport and adventuring and likes nothing better than provoking others into deep thought. Socrates is the antithesis of the sporting jock or the West Sydney soccer supporter.

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Tagged With: aphrodite, artemis, atalanta, calydonian boar, golden apples of the hesperides, greek mythology, hippomenes, sprinting

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