Running With Scissors
by Richard
There’s something about a competition that brings out the knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, club-waving cave man in all of us. And when I say all, I am, of course, talking about dudes. I learned this the hard way yesterday.
Zippy the Monkey Boy and I were participating in a 5k run-walk to benefit a local children’s hospital. And, as an aside, let me mention that these people trying to benefit the local children’s hospital are, in fact, hideous sadists who secretly plot to find ways of wringing the last drop of sweat, pain and blood from people who only want to help and who have minds full of fluffy bunnies and rainbows. These sadists laid out a course that consisted of the most appalling hills. They went up and up and, for a change of pace, up again. And they never went down!
That’s all aside from the point, however. I just felt like I needed to get that out. Lest it explode, very wet and very sticky. Not a good image, especially when it’s my head I’m picturing.
So. Anyway.
Zippy the Monkey Boy and I are moving along the course. He’d sprinted away at the very beginning, but I, knowing of the fable of the tortoise and the hare, set out at a sustainable pace. I would not falter.
So, about the end of the second mile, when I had finished faltering, I came upon Zippy the Monkey Boy who was standing stock still in the middle of the road. He looked terrible. I smiled. Vindication! He started going with me and then I asked what happened. He said he ran pretty fast but then he started feeling sick so he slowed down. Inside, I smiled again. I felt pretty good.
We continued. I began to go a little faster. I didn’t look back. That would have indicated fear. I didn’t want to do that. I was ahead for most of the third mile. I was still feeling good. With about 300 meters to go, I started my kick (such as it was) in that I stumbled forward a little bit more. Again, I was feeling pretty good.
That’s when I heard the demonstration of physics, most notably the doppler effect. The voice started behind me, moved even and then sped away into the distance. And I mean sped.
The voice said this: “You know you don’t have a chance, Dad.”
And, with that, Zippy the Monkey Boy ran away, losing me in the background, pulling even more away and crossing the finish line still accelerating.
Me? Well, I had no kick left. I just tried to finish. I did, but I didn’t finish gasping for breath for hours afterward. Still, it was worth it, if only to enjoy a little friendly rivalry with my middle little dude.
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