I knew then it was going to be a tough day. Besides the large ladies, there was the cold which had everybody shivering and kung fu fighting. Not kung fu fighting, but shivering and blowing on their hands and wiping their noses. When the announcer said go we did, as much to beat the cold as the course.
Only a couple of hundred steps in, I thought I saw someone I knew. Brent Bailey runs all over Leflore County, swims and lifts weights at Twin Rivers, and is so competitive that he times himself when he puts on his shoes.
"What are you doing slumming back here with us old, fat, slow folks," I asked after shuffling up beside him.
"Just out having a little fun," was his answer.
"Having fun?" I asked incredulously. "I thought you didn't have fun," I responded.
"I do. I just turned forty-five today," I suppose supplying the answer to his new found relaxed attitude.
Wow, I thought. Immediately I realized he was running with someone whom he introduced me to but whose name I quickly forgot. He was a fat man from Chicago, and they ran steady but slowly and we ran together for a few miles before they pulled away from me.
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| Look at that butt!!! |
That's when it started.
The battle. The inevitable battle. The brutal battle.
When I saw the fat lady up ahead of me with her massive buttocks and jiggling parts, I knew I had to defeat her or turn in my man card, resign from athletics, start playing badminton.
I began an immediate, deliberate push of pace to close the gap between me and my prey. When I caught up with her, I hoped to pass without incident. Nothing doing. Did she really try to elbow me?
She picked up the tempo and put a step between us. I matched her pace and pulled even again. No elbow this time and when I passed I thought it was over. Not that easy. She came back, and I refused to let her go around, running harder and harder until I was safely ahead but sweating and breathing hard. Was this a Pyrrhic victory? Only time would tell.
The next battle was with my bladder and it got bad. We ran past my own home, and I was tempted to stop but I didn't. A mile or two later a young lad ducked into some bushes that were sufficient to hide him while an older man-- his granddad?-- stood guard. I slowed down with the hopes he would make quick work of his business and I could be next. When he didn't come quickly out, I pushed on for fear the fat lady might run me down.
The course took us to Medallion and to where Medallion meets Riverside Drive. If you read my Poot stories, that might ring a bell. This is where there was a rope swing long years ago and me n Poot swam across the Tallahatchie River here several times to get to The Star of the West Plantation, unseen, so we could burn down houses. Now, the river bank there is stripped of its trees and rocked. A guard rail prevents cars from leaving the road and plunging into the waters below.
An idea! I would go over the rail. But when the race brought me to that place, a volunteer, female, stood at the rail and made me think twice. I thought three times, in fact, and decided to do it, so over the rail and a tumble on the rocks brought me to a flat place where I could take care of business. I looked over my left shoulder and saw that the female volunteer politely moved away leaving me some privacy. I looked over my right shoulder and saw a steady stream of runners right against the rail and every single head turned my direction. I climbed up the rocks and onto the road full of frustration.
Another idea! The Tallahatchie Bridge (not the one Billy Joe McCalister jumped off, though there is a plaque there about Bobbie Gentry and Billy Joe) was only a half mile up the course. I know going over that meant extra distance, a slower time, and the risk of the fat lady catching up, but things were getting serious. A policeman manned the traffic at the intersection of Riverside Drive and Grand Blvd at the foot of the bridge.
I hollered, "I ain't cuttin' the course, I'm just going over the bridge."
And I did.
And it worked.
Back on the course I caught up, again, with a young woman I had passed twice before. She got back ahead of me when I went over the rail and again when I went over the bridge. We started chatting this time. She was Amanda somebody who is in Teach for America and is staying in Greenwood and is from Iowa and teaches at East Elementary and needs new running shoes and her knees hurt and she wants to be an EMT and she has never run this far. What!?!?! EMT? That's what she said. I did not cross examine.
We were at about mile seven and I was beginning to know I could finish this thing. I didn't push anymore until the last little bit at the finish where we ran into a large crowd of runners who were busy listening to the live band and eating the free food provided by several local eateries. We finished in a very slow 2:29:something. Good training, that's the way I look at it, good training. No doubt this put some endurance into my legs which can't hurt any when the Chicot Challenge comes around.
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| Me, the wife, and daughter |
I picked up some fish from Larry's, one of Penny and my favorites. As always, it was nice to the tongue, the teeth, the stomach.
I found my daughter, her friend Amanda, and my wife, and we hung out a little bit. I never saw Forrest there though he did the 5K and placed in his age group. The cold, however, soon got the best of me, and I walked back to my truck and went home. Ordinarily I would walk all the way too and fro from the house, but since I was so insecure with my fitness, I reduced the walking to a minimum.
Back home, Luvie was happy to see me. He has not been pleased with me working on Fridays. He was not pleased with me leaving early on a Saturday. He was pleased with me being tired and taking a nap.
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