by Richard
Seeing as how we’re taking the time for a little self-congratulations, and we all need some of that every once in a while, I thought I’d come clean about the last race I will ever run. Yes, Dad, I have been running races. I know you’re shocked.
Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m shocked as well. For most of my life, I’ve been the sort who thought any run more than the trip from the couch to the fridge was, well, a reason that God invented the automobile. Why walk when you can ride?
Through a convoluted series of circumstances, which I won’t bore you with here (and the crowd goes wild), I found that I had to start getting in shape to run a series of 5k races. Five kilometers equals about 3.1 miles. Anyway, on a couple of those runs, I had the privilege of running with my two oldest little dudes.
On the first 5k with family, George of the Jungle paced me the entire way and then, with the finish line in sight, pulled away laughing while I weezed the final little bit. The second race, Zippy the Monkey Boy took off like a rabbit with it’s cotton tail on fire. And then he seemed to flame out. I passed him around the halfway mark and thought I was doing good. I kept looking for him, but never aw him pass me. About 100 meters from the finish, I thought I had the win and that’s when he passed me like I was going backwards.
Well, since I decided that 2009 marked the last year I’d be running (bad, bad knees), I had one last race in me. I ran it with George of the Jungle. Before the start, he was as cocky as I’d ever seen him.
“You know you don’t have a chance of beating me or my brother, Dad. We’re younger and faster.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but I’ve been training more than you.”
He laughed it off.
We stayed even during the first part of the race, but George of the Jungle dropped down to walking speed a little over halfway. After making sure he was all right, I kept running and told him I’d meet him at the finish line.
You’ve never seen a more paranoid runner. I kept stealing looks over my left shoulder and then my right. I almost ran over a couple dozen of the 12-year-old girls who’d go on to beat me. (Long story) I still didn’t see George of the Jungle, but I finally did see the finish line. I poured what little I had left into moving a bit faster than a pregnant sperm whale beached in California and headed for the end of my last race.
I made it across the finish and almost fainted because I hadn’t been passed by George of the Jungle. He came through about two minutes later. I only had one smug comment for him and then I shut up.
But, secretly, I had completely inappropriate amounts of glee over the win. I know I shouldn’t be this happy, but, well, he did all the bragging beforehand. And, as I said yesterday, take all the good finishes you can get. I know my knees won’t be letting me do many more of those in the future.
But, for now, “VICTORY!!!!!” in best Johnny Drama voice.
Tags: 5k Races, A Dude's Guide to Kids, A Dude's Guide to Life, Automobile, Bad Knees, Consolation, Cotton Tail, Couch, Crowd, dad, dude, Dude's, eating, family, Finish Line, Flame, Fridge, George Of The Jungle, Getting In Shape, girls, Glee, Kilometers, Knees, laughing, Little Bit, little dude, little dudes, Man, men, Monkey Boy, Nap, old, Privilege, Rabbit, race, Rain, richard, Running, Running Races, Sequel, Taking The Time, Victory, Walking Speed, Whale, young, Zippy, Zippy The Monkey