Ran to the Chicken

Saturday I ran to the Chicken. I did not run to the Chicken because of a drink special. Or because of half off Tijuana fries. Or because I wanted to grab the last set of dominoes from the bar. Nope. I ran to the Chicken because I paid to run to the Chicken. All 3.1 miles of it.

Fortunately for Brady, he decided to get really sick Friday night, so he did not have to run to the Chicken with me. Unfortunately for Massey, she had no choice.

Since this was a fun run with NO rules, everything but the kitchen sink was allowed. Dogs. Bikes. Rollerbladers. Two college guys on a tandem bike. College kids in costumes. Dogs in costumes. A chicken. You get the point.

I politely hung out in the back of the pack since I would be dragging my sidekick along. Bad idea. I have always known that both Brady and I are very competitive, but it seems we own a very competitive canine as well. Massey took off like the lead dog in an Iditarod race. Only there was no snow. Or scenic landscape. Just asphalt and bars.

What did I enjoy most about the race? I passed a lot of people. A lot. And most of them were younger than me. Take that college kids.

I dropped my stupid cell phone twice. Once, I'll forgive myself. Twice, I would have put myself in time out if I had the chance. Luckily, it still works. It looks like it just survived a cat fight, but it works.

I got hit on by a team of college guys wearing pink. I was wearing pink. They wanted me to join their "pink" team. Massey too. Too bad I was too fast for them.

Massey got lots of "Oh, how cute." "That's the best looking mutt I've ever seen." "She's doing so good." She also got several "nose" slaps as a sign of encouragement.

Brady even left the comfort of the truck (I was supposed to take him to the doctor as soon as the race was over) to cheer us on. Massey saw him and got sidetracked. Thanks Brady.

We sprinted across the finish line sometime around 27:30. That is my best guess since I forgot to wear a watch and since I started long after the gun went off.

We got cheated out of a prize since they didn't categorize humans with dogs as a separate group. In fact, I wasn't too excited how they categorized any of the groups. My group alone consisted of 25- to 39-year-olds. Seriously? You've got to be kidding me.

So, I finally ran to the Chicken. And I have a T-shirt to prove it. And, now I'm contemplating something I told myself I would never do again. I'm thinking about training for another half marathon in the spring. And making Brady do it with me.

I'm just too damn competitive for my own good. Thanks Massey for pushing (I mean pulling) me to do my best. And thanks Chicken for letting me run to you. I've had 10 years of great memories with you. Many Goodnight Irene nights. Sangritas. Ring dunkings. Aggie football wins. Aggie football losses.

And, now, my own Chicken Iditarod.

543 words.