On the Run

I alway pack my running shoes when I travel. I don't always get around to running but if the urge does overtake, I am boy scout prepared.

While I was home, I tried to minimize the weight impact of Southern mostly fried food so I made the effort to lace up the old sneaks a few times. My general pattern is to run over to my aunt's house in the morning for freshly brewed joe, talk story for a while and then run back home. Total mileage a grand total of 2.3 miles.

On Sunday late afternoon after a massive feast at my brother's house, I put on the kicks and responsibly detailed my plans to my mom. The Plan was to run to the by-pass stop about 1/2 mile past my aunt's turn off, then swing by her house for a brief howdy before heading back home.

All went according to plan until I turned around at the by-pass stop. Not one but two big dogs--Hound of Baskerville size dogs--were waiting for me to come back through. Where did they come from? They weren't there when I ran through just minutes ago. Just my luck. I briefly weighed my options and determined the path of least resistance would be the safest course. I headed around the by-pass. My 3 mile planned run suddenly became a 6 mile pavement pounding. It seemed that everywhere I looked there were dogs on the loose.

When I returned, I asked my mom if everyone in town let their dogs out on Sunday afternoon. My mom, explained that in fact, they were let out on Friday after 2:00 when the dog catcher left for the weekend. She also added that it was well known that the dog catcher was also afraid of dogs! Go figure.


The local paper advertized the 14th annual Dogwood Days 5K run on the following Saturday. I pondered chipping in my 20 bucks for the cause (the beautification of downtown Idabel or maybe the lining of local bigwigs pockets). On Saturday morning, shortly after finishing my 24 ounces of coffee and a bowl of cheerios I decided that since my sister was parked in front of my car, I might as well walk up town and run the damn race. Hey, that's only 3.2 miles and I can walk it if nothing else.

I registered, started the race and was amazed that I finished the first mile in sub-10. Hey, I'm not as much out of shape as I thought I was. Then about 5 minutes later the coffee and cereal caught up with my. Oh, my aching side-stitching gut. The 64 year old guy behind me catches me, chats with me a bit and then passes me. Why oh why am I doing this to myself. I could be having another cup of coffee in the quiet of my mom's kitchen.

The aches and stitches gradually release their grips and by the end of the 5k I find the energy to sprint in with the 64 year old finishing just about 35 seconds ahead of me. My time: a not very respectable 34:40. I grab some water and a banana while and wait around for the awards ceremony. Lo and behold, I win first place in my age group. I perk right up and graciously accept my medal. I proudly wear my medal all the way back home and show it off. The caveat is that I just happened to be the only one in my age group running! I could have shuffled along the entire route and still come in first.

Nevertheless, I love my medal. I have four now. Three finisher medals for three of the four marathons I have run and my shiny first place medal for the slowest 5K I have ever run. Sometimes, you just have to appreciate the irony life throws at you.