I've been talking smack about running a marathon in aught-nine. One of my Colleton County buds, Matt, thought starting up a Walterboro running club to facilitate distance running would be a good idea. He contacts one of his running buds, Kevin, a local Sheriff's deputy, who was a member in the old running club for support. Kevin is a good old Scot. Five foot, nine, and two hundred and thirty pounds of red hair, muscle, and beer. Kevin shows up with a Trooper friend of his. My best friend, Cathy, makes the trip from Ridgeland. Matt chickens out. Anyway, it was just the four of us, but off we went on a three mile jaunt through the Great Swamp Sanctuary.
None of us are in top shape, but we putter along all right, stopping to walk for a minute or two before the last bit of the adventure. With a quarter mile to go, Cathy picks up the pace. The Trooper had peeled off on a different path a little while back, but there was still plenty of testosterone to meet the challenge that Cathy had tossed down. Kevin inches forward. "Oh, it's on", I thought. I break into a stride. Kevin glances over and starts into a sprint. I kick it into overdrive (Kevin evidently didn't know I'd run track thirty years ago). I'm totally shocked to find that he is right there with me. Damn! Relent, Scotsman! Relent! I'm equally shocked to see his look of shock that I haven't acknowledged defeat. We hit the entrance to the park side by side, huffing and puffing. Cathy is amused by the spectacle of nearly 500 pounds of combined manflesh striving so mightily with nothing at stake. "You're a lot faster than you look", I croaked to the Deputy. "Chasing down criminals", he pants. "You're faster than you look, too", he offers. Probably from chasing ambulances, his expression tacitly added.
Bruce Springsteen may have been born to run, but so was Emmylou Harris.
12 comments:
This image brought a huuuuggeee smile to my face!
Five foot, nine, and two hundred and thirty pounds of red hair, muscle, and beer
So much yum. And yet we have no pictures. The picture takin' guy disappoints me.
It was a lot of fun, Chase. I'm looking forward to next Saturday.
John, I'll get you a pic next Saturday, 'K?
I bet it was a lot of fun, but if you slow down a bit, you'll find you can run farther with less chance of a heart attack!
As for EmmyLou, I just love her. I waited years for her to come to Tampa and when she did, I was out of town! Rats!
Mostly, I do run slowly, Ange. Just couldn't let that dude beat me, z'all.
Shirtless, please.
You're a funny guy, John.
I dig that male testosterone thing. I don't get it, but I dig it.
Superdave is very fast on the sprint, and he had no idea he was going to get a run for his money. Imagine repeated mutual winded WTF glances at each other as they kept shifting gears.
Sunny, I'm imagining pulled hamstrings and chest clutching! I remember one day running with Davis and SuperD for about 3-4 miles. I had to keep prodding them. Davis even came to a dead stop a few times, but man, when we made that turn off of 7 Fat Sisters Road (or whatever it's called) towards the house, these two "Speedsters" took off. I was like, fine, I pull you clowns for 45 minutes and now you wanna run. Speaking of a WTF glance, they got one from me, sadly it was from behind so they never saw it!
Name the distance and I'm in!
You're slow and I'm ...
-Dean Karnazes
Star, you're married, so I know you get it. Wait, that didn't sound right...
Sunny, it was great having you out there (and you started it, you know). Next time, you gotta take a picture for John.
Ange, no question about it: there is no chance Davis or I coulda kept up with you over the distance.
Dean, I'll kick your ass... if I could only catch you. Say, I'll pretend to be a pizza delivery guy...
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