Pick Me

I’m the runner you pick off at the end of a race. The one you’ve been sizing up from the halfway point. The one you tell yourself, “I don’t care about my time. I just want to finish in front of ….” It’s okay, I’ve done that too; usually it’s someone in an air cast or kilt. 

I knew I was the prey yesterday at the Freedom 5000. A July 4^th run around Camp Mabry. I saw a woman with “Tex Ass” printed across her shorts walking in front of me. I passed her; concentrating on keeping up my pace. I had a nice run going and didn’t want to mess it up. She started running, stopping a few hundred feet in front of me, and, then, walking again. She did this three more times. I clearly stirred something in her. She finally pulled away and finished ahead of me. I tried to summon my inner Leo Manzano, but no kick would come. I probably had more than ten years on her and I was on day 40 of the Runner’s World Run Streak. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I couldn’t fault her; if I had “Tex Ass” across my butt, I wouldn’t let me pass me either. At least, I made her work for it.