Turkey Trot

I used to run. No big whoop. No marathons. I have no idea how a human being can run that far. I just liked to run a short way most every day. Just enough to get my heart pumping.

I gave it up a couple of years ago when I fell on the sidewalk. But now I'm exercising at my Boyfriend's club where there is this cool indoor clay track with handrails no less so it's safe. So I run a couple of laps.

Downtown in my city each Thanksgiving morning there is a 5k race called the Turkey Trot. Hundreds of people run. It's festive and fun and allows a person to eat mammoth amounts of Thanksgiving dinner with no guilt.

I ran for several years. Sometimes with family, sometimes with friends.

The last time I ran there were some indications that I should stop. I DID finish the race. But I ran alongside

- a six year old child. He beat me.

- an old man who'd had a stroke and who's family lifted him from a wheelchair and surrounded him for the entire run so that he'd be protected. He beat me.

- a seven months pregnant woman. She beat me.

Did I mention that I finished the race?