The competition this year would be stiff, that much I was certain of. The word had spread far and wide about our little local event and so the big guns of the running world decided to add it to their list of important races. I was the reigning champion and was less than impressed with these newcomers, they had no right to be here. Especially with their custom made briefs that were designed to be aerodynamic and breathable. The norm here was whitey tighties, this new technology would add a different challenge to us locals, we'd actually have to try for a change and our customary pre race getting sloshy drunk would have to be put on hold until afterwards. I hate change.
From what I could tell, the favorite to win was this scary beast of a man that was rumored to be a commando in the Turkish armies special forces. His attire was skin tight camouflaged boxer briefs with a pair of socks stuffed in the crotch, or at least that's the lie I told myself so I wouldn't feel like a six year old boy. I wasn't the only one scared of these new comers though, you could see the fear in fat Ralph's eyes and harry Larry had reportedly come down with a case of the "squirts" and dropped out of the race altogether. It would literally be me against the world, win or lose I'd give it my all.
The clock struck noon and Wilma struck the dinner bell on the porch of her old farm house, it was time to start. There were around 50 of us at the line, you could actually smell the tension building by the second. At any moment without warning a shotgun would be fired into the air and we'd set off on a grueling 2 mile trek forged out of the earth supposedly by Satan himself. I would be at an advantage due to my preexisting knowledge of the twists and turns but I did notice the Turk doing some research earlier asking people who last years winner was and everyone pointed at me so I'd probably have a shadow
Bobby Bradleys 12 gauge ripped through the air like a cannon blast, sending us into a frenzy of scattering feel as we lurched forward. My strategy was to hang back for a second until we reached the dragons bend and then I'd make my move. It worked like clockwork, I shot up to first and tripled my pace. The finish line was within eyesight when I heard the heavy footsteps of the Turk right behind me. It would be a sprint to the end. I kicked it in high gear and shot off like a bullet, he followed suit. We were neck and neck with about 8 feet to go and we both decided to dive for it. We flew through the air in slow motion, our eyes were locked onto each other, both of our arms stretched out as far as they'd stretch. Unfortunately his arms were longer and so they crossed the finish line first.. I'll always remember that day as the day I finished second place in the great underwear race.
Bobby Bradleys 12 gauge ripped through the air like a cannon blast, sending us into a frenzy of scattering feel as we lurched forward. My strategy was to hang back for a second until we reached the dragons bend and then I'd make my move. It worked like clockwork, I shot up to first and tripled my pace. The finish line was within eyesight when I heard the heavy footsteps of the Turk right behind me. It would be a sprint to the end. I kicked it in high gear and shot off like a bullet, he followed suit. We were neck and neck with about 8 feet to go and we both decided to dive for it. We flew through the air in slow motion, our eyes were locked onto each other, both of our arms stretched out as far as they'd stretch. Unfortunately his arms were longer and so they crossed the finish line first.. I'll always remember that day as the day I finished second place in the great underwear race.
