The Race
I put on my running shoes as soon as we got home from school today. I know that daylight is valuable and in short supply also these days, so I was keen to get a run in before dark.
I was trying out a new route which I call the “Spruce Route”. It’s pretty and quiet and residential. And I came upon a guy who was walking in the same direction as me on the same sidewalk as me. He was a gallumpy guy with slouchy pants – probably in highschool – with a backpack and one running shoe tied to it. He was loafing along as I began to approach him. Then suddenly, it seemed he was walking faster. I wondered if I was imagining things. I know I’m a slow runner, but I started to wonder how slow a pass it would be. Would it take me five minutes of being beside him before I could squeeze in front of him? Then I SWEAR he turned his head slightly to glance back and me and he began to trot.
I shuffled through leaves and he ran ahead of me. We were about six feet apart and I couldn’t catch up! We were obviously racing. It was ludicrous. He was just some teeny-bopper on his way home from practicing the electric guitar in his buddy’s basement, I’m sure. And now he was racing me! And I began to get a cramp.
Finally, we had to slow to cross at an intersection, and he must have given in because he fell into a walk again. I passed him. And I almost said, “THERE!” But I was concentrating on breathing through my stitch until I was out of eyesight and I could take a walk break.
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