The race

There is a foot-race series in our canton (or state, as you probably call it) that both Wife and Son 2 have been participating in. It is called “Le tour du pays de Vaud” (Zee tour of the Vaud countryside, Vaud being our canton). For the last 4 weeks, every Wednesday, they have been running up and down hills, along rivers and through the woods, clocking in about 9.5 kilometers each time.

The last race is this Friday evening when they’ll get a prize for participating in 4 of the 5 races and see their final finishing position compared to the other racers in their category. Both of them will finish in the top quarter of their divisions.

But not me. I actually did my first race 3 weeks ago. I ran along with Stephanie and didn’t slow her down too much, though she did finish a place or two lower. I took a rain check the next week and just applauded along with Son 1. Then I announced my plan for last week. Wife loves starting up front. My heart has trouble taking it what with tachycardia and all. So I told her I’d be at the back of the pack, and would catch her on the uphill section at about 2 K. Then I’d run with her, and maybe try to pick up the pace the last 2 K. Right.

At 2 K I spied her about 70 meters ahead of me. But traffic was thick and we were heading into the forest. I saw her again at 4 K, still 70 meters ahead, but we were running downhill and no one runs faster than her downhill. At 5.5 K, now about 80 meters ahead, I caught a glimpse of her shirt as we ran single file through the forest. But I was about to pass out and it was all that I could do to keep on the trail.

I actually saw her again at 8 K, about 100 meters away, but gave up trying to catch her and just tried not to throw up. I crossed the finish line 30 seconds behind her with the firm resolution to never try to catch up again. Next time, I run with her.