...Why I let Bryan win.
Honestly, I hadn't really planned on revisiting the race (sorry, "The Great Race")...unless I had actually pulled off the greatest upset in sports history and won the thing(Yes, even bigger than the "Miracle on Ice"). But when I read the comments and realized interest had reached the subconscious of some, I figured I could at least end the suspense (if 3 and half people maybe wanting to know qualifies as suspense, that is). So the race...
First let me say that the pre-race festivities included us screwing up the race so that no times can be considered official, for a mile run that is. You get four guys and one girl with "pregnancy brain" standing around a track at 8 in the morning, and the result is that we somehow decide and agree we should run 1500 instead of 1600 meters, because that's closer to a mile. Huh? Yeah, this was as much my fault as anyone else's, but, really, what were we thinking? So the race did actually start. Sure, it was awkwardly staggered as we tried to signal to Lisa (Bryan's wife) at the finish line (not the same as the start line since we're idiots) to start the "official" clock (which was rendered somewhat moot by our decision to adjust the distance) and then each took sort of a half step, stopped, looked at each other, and then took off. Yeah. That's when I made my first (and fatal) mistake. Bryan(once trained for a marathon) shot out of there, Patrick(athletic 25 year-old) and Eric(former HS and college sports star) made some attempt to keep up(though failed), and I (biggest and oldest) didn't. Mainly it was because I felt like crap and didn't want to. But I must admit that I also had a fairly strong inclination that Bryan (and Patrick and Eric) would not be able to sustain such a pace. That was, as far as Bryan is concerned, incorrect. So after about a lap we are already quite spread out.
With two laps remaining I realized that I was going to have to step it up if I didn't want to be completely embarrassed. At that point I was still in last place, and not by a little. I would approximate that Eric was about 20-30 meters ahead, Patrick about twice that, and Bryan? Well, he had somewhere between 150 and 200 meters on me, almost half a lap difference. Things were not looking good, nor was I feeling any better than when the race had started. But being the mule-headed idiot I am, I would not go quietly into that good night. I did pick up the pace, and was able to get by Eric (who graciously cleared the way). When I passed Patrick a couple of seconds later, I can only assume he didn't expect me as he exclaimed something like, "Oh man!" as I went around the outside (He later admitted that this move on my part completely demoralized him). Unfortunately, I had begun my "kick" too late, and Bryan (to his credit) didn't slow down near enough. If my memory and the "official timekeeper" can be trusted, I ran the final lap in 1:05 (it could have been 1:25 if one of those two are faulty) but still finished a good 75 meters and 17 seconds behind Bryan. Even though the times are somewhat meaningless, I'll give them to you anyway just so you can go out and mistakingly run a 1500 and beat our times.
So there you go. We ran. And I didn't win (nor did I actually die, but I'm guessing you figured that out already). But next time Bryan...next time.
P.s. As a bonus for reading this far, I give you a link to a free Coldplay song off their upcoming album. Hurry though, you probably have less than 24 hours.