To actually vomit would be a sign of weakness

Okay, so I was wrong in my post on Thursday about the 5K I'd be running. Turns out I did win my age group. What I'm wondering now is why does my age group suck so bad? It's not that I ran poorly; in fact my time of 22 minutes and change beat my goal of going under 24 by a significant margin. Not bad considering I'd never run a 5K and only had a vague idea of how long it would take me. Actually, that competitive drive I discussed on Thursday really kicked in at the end and nearly caused me to puke as I walked away from the finish (seriously, I was choking it down.) I gave it all I had and that was my personal victory.

But why was no one else in this race aged 25-29 able to finish ahead of me? The only reasonable answer I can come up with is that they didn't bother to show up. Here's my theory: Guys (and girls) in high school and college are all about sports and many of them actually participate. Then they graduate and get lazy. Sometime in their thirties or forties they realize the imprint in the seat of their office chair is getting wider by the year and decide to take up running. If I was a fourteen-year-old boy or a thirty-eight-year-old woman, I wouldn't have even placed in this particular 5K in my respective age divisions. Actually, I better get while the getting's good and keep entering races - next year when I hit 30 the competition will be considerably tougher.

Now that I've thoroughly insulted the other entrants (apparently few in number) in my age group, I'd like to congratulate my old friend Hightower (he of the indecipherable and grammatically atrocious, but generally funny, comments), who actually finished behind me in second place. It was cool that we went 1-2. I only wish he hadn't had to leave early and could have been there to accept his plaque. (And thanks for putting us up for the night, man.)

So have I convinced you yet of my humility and my conviction that winning my age group is due entirely to a weak field? Suckers. I fuckin' rule. Just check out the number on my lacquered fiberboard plaque:

Yeah.

(As if that wasn't enough, the winning would continue: I also won a door prize [a 20 oz. can of Utz Pub Mix] and later outlasted three of my friends in the traditional camping game of "Who's dumb enough to keep his arm submerged in the cooler full of ice longer than anyone else?", the latter of course being the proudest victory of the day.)