Another One Off The List

The temperature was moving up in the eighties as we stood in clusters beneath the cloudless sky. I had a bit of anxiety. I had never done anything like this before. I had entered my first 5K race. It was on my bucket list.
The Goose Creek Police Department was sponsoring the first annual Hot Pursuit 5K  race, a charitable event. We had seen a flyer at the gym and I said to Claudette, "We ought to do that." Before I had a chance to recant my statement, which was nothing more than a verbalized fleeting thought, she had entered us in the race. Due to her persistent efficiency I found myself awaiting the sound of a starting gun a couple of weeks after my seventy-fifth birthday! 
There was a crowd of over one hundred representing quite  a cross section of humanity. I needed someone to talk with. Usually, I would have my dear wife to engage in delightful vocal exchange. But, alas, she was called away at the last minute leaving me without my usual conversation partner. But having once run for political office I am familiar with being in crowds of people I don't know.  

I met one man probably in my age group who was busy making last minute adjustments to a running app on his phone. He was tall and lean with a narrow hawkish face. His gray hair was cut short and he had the quick movements of a trapped hare. He said this would be his eighth 5K since heart surgery, and he had lost over one hundred pounds through diet and exercise.  Close at hand was his thin wife with laugh lines accenting a formerly youthful face. Our conversation was interrupted by an announcement from the police chief, in her resonant baratone voice, that the police department chaplain would offer a prayer. 

After the prayer the race was underway. The runners quickly left me and other walkers behind. I was not the last. There was a man in a wheelchair behind me. 
The course would lead us around the lake behind the municipal center, along public roads and through residential neighborhoods. One of the first obstacles encountered was the goose poop. The lake has 

attracted quite a few Canada geese as year round residents. These large birds leave large deposits. We, or at least most of us, successfully navigated the excrement under the watchful eyes of the winged observers. There were some geese in the water with goslings. The ladies walking in front of me commented on how pretty the geese were.  One was obviously from the north east where they pronounce a very hard "a" while the other was a mid-westerner with a  hammer toe. The one with the hammer toe said the young birds were cute. I remarked that turtles sometimes ate the young birds. They would simply disappear under the water right before your eyes. And I added, as an after thought, that gators liked them too.  They slowly moved away from me on the trail with concentrated intent. 
Our course led up up the hill from the lake toward Highway 52, Goose Creek Boulevard. A retired GCPD sergeant was there to point us down the hiker/biker trail parallel to Highway 52. In front of City Hall a female police officer cheered us on, and one hundred yards later we were offered small cups of cold water. I did not drink, only swirled it around in my mouth before spitting it out. I had eaten a large breakfast and the grits felt like lead in my stomach. Ahead, an officer was directing us into the Woodland Lakes subdivision. We welcomed the shady streets as the temperature had risen considerably since the start of the race. There was little traffic and fewer spectators.

 I caught up with a couple of ladies whose figures could have been described as "pleasantly plump" which reminded me of an old country music song. 
          She keeps me warm in the winter,
          Shady in the summertime,
          That's what I like about that
          Fat, fat gal of mine!
Soon we were exiting the neighborhood near the Goose Creek branch of the Berkeley County Library. It was the first time we were on a public road. Plastic cones had been placed to give the runners one lane of the two lane highway. We were in the third kilometer, I think. In the distance I could see an orange Igloo cooler. It was the kind that is usually seen at construction sites with cool water for the workers. My mouth was dry and felt like the desert a thousand Bedouin camels had walked through. I was thirsty. By now I had passed several of the participants and was about to pass a cute soccer mom with two little boys under seven years old.   The younger one ran ahead, then scurried back to tell his mom there were no cups. But big brother came to the rescue. He had saved his cup from the earlier watering hole and shared, with his mother's insistence. But he did not share his cup with me. Near the bottom of the hill we were directed to the right off the highway across a grassy area back onto the walking trail around the lake. It was time to avoid goose poop again. There was a snake bird drying its wings. They can seemingly stand motionless forever. 

This time we walked in the opposite direction. I could see the finish line with the brightly colored sponsors' sponsors' tents across the lake. I was about to have that long awaited feeling of accomplishment.  But, when we got to the access trail to the finish line we were waved off and directed toward the Recreation Center parking area. It was an uphill climb for me. I don't do hills very well. It has something to do with having CHF. We passed the sarge again before heading for the finish line. Since I was one of the last finishers, there were a lot of people cheering. Someone thrust a cold bottle of water in my hand and I sought protection from a brisk breeze. I was soaked in sweat and did not want to get a chill. Consequently, I did not enjoy any of the after race activities. The results would be on line. 
Later that day I checked the Hot Pursuit 5K results, but my name was missing. Why? Had I not registered properly or was there some other technical problem?  A few hours later my wife called and asked if I had finished the race. Of course, I told her, and I had checked my watch and found that I had completed the race under one hour. Then she told me that she had found her name on the list of finishers. I could hear her smile when she said that.

I HAD WORN HER SHIRT AND NUMBER!