“…there’s an open spot man. I got some shorts you can borrow…let’s do it man.” His friend was dressed in all black and was ready.
The out-of-shape 36-year old man dressed in jeans thought about it.
“How long is the run?”
“..three miles man, we can just walk it. We don’t have to run.”
“Dude…that’s three more miles than what I usually run. I’m out of breath when I run to my mailbox.”
He got in his car and really thought about it. He thought, “I could do it right?” But, he thought about having his friends wait up for him while they ran the 3-mile trek and he began to doubt himself. An hour later, they pulled into a gas station. His friends asked him:
“So what did you decide man?”
“I’ve decided I would have a Big Mac when I get back…wasn’t sure if I should get a Whopper instead.”
Two of his friends laughed.
But he promised he would do the next one.
So, I was in charge of holding stuff….backpacks, keys, wallets, extra clothes. It was an important job that came with perks. I watched as my wife and some of our best friends lined up to start the race. They all wore black and began to stretch near the back of pack. It was hot and I wondered what I would be doing during this race. And then I found out:
I looked at a perfectly placed food truck parked near the end of the race. That’s what I would be doing…eating. My group started their wave and I took a few pictures and headed to where my stomach was leading me. A few minutes later I was staring at a pile of french fries topped with tri-tip, chicken, tomatoes, and cheesy sauce. But as time went on, I started to regret not doing the run….and eating that cheesy gooey mess. I watched as runners caked in mud cleared the last hill and start their decent to the final obstacle. Each person was smiling….and waving at whoever was waiting for them at the finish line. You could see the sense of accomplishment and triumph. I’ve never done any kind of run so I don’t know what it feels like to see a finish line and cross it. I watched a kid take off his shirt and start doing some sort of rodeo dance across the finish line. I was jealous, I wanted to do some kind of weird dance across a finish line. I looked up and saw a group of racers in all black near the top of the hill. I waved at them. They waved back at me.
“HEY!….HEY! YOU GUYS DID IT!” I smiled as the group finished…and then I realized this wasn’t my group. I looked behind me and saw a group waving at the same group. Oops. My real group came shortly after, they were laughing and covered completely in mud. I was proud of them. That was it, I will do the next one. I’m already preparing my finish line dance. And to make things worse, that cheesy tri-tip fries mess gave me a souvenir…a bad case of mudbutt. Another sign I should have ran in that race.