I was screwing around on my run today. Rather than stick to the typical routes, I was looking for every possible social path through the local trail (Lake Link). I might end up calling this the dump run as a good portion of this run is over what was a landfill 30 years ago. Ya' never know it unless you were told, did chemical testing or lived here. Anyway, I was running a bit all over the place, making up loops that seemed non directional at best (maybe I was just looking to get around the winds).
In any case, this drummed up a memory from my high school days. Actually, junior high days - which I guess don't exist anymore since they are all "middle schools" now. Where and when I grew up freshmen where in the junior high with 7th and 8th graders. You actually went to high school your sophomore year. And in fact, that changed when I became a sophomore because that was the year the policy changed and freshmen went to the high school too.
Anyway, it was freshman year, and I was out with a couple of my buds for our "long run." That might have been a whole five or six miles back in that day. Seriously. Most of our runs were three miles, which for where we were in our physical development was probably fine. A car comes careening around the corner and has to swerve because, of course, being young, dumb and full of c** we are all running abreast. The driver lays on the horn to express his displeasure.
And of course one of us flips him the bird.
And of course the car stops. With the skid sound you can imagine.
And of course five or six high schoolers get out. Just thinking of that today, the very memory cracked me up. First, you do get that many kids into any car once you get your drivers license at 16 and cars were built for that back in the 70s and 80s - unless they were a pickup truck. The extended cab did not exist unless you were talking about riding in the bed.
Anyways, the high schoolers were not stoked about us, nearly hitting us and the bird signal. Conversation went something like this.
Them: "You got a ****ing problem?"
Gordy: (who was the fastest of all of us, and so the most bold) (pointing at someone of us, I don't remember who, but it might have been me) (and cracking up) "this guy here, he say he wants to kick the sh** out of your punk ass."
I remember a long pause that must have been a whole 1.5 seconds and thinking "oh crap." I knew we were about to run, and fast, but we were some 2 miles from the school locker room safe zone, and heck we were already on our long run!
They came, we ran. I wonder if I would just hold my ground today. They certainly were bigger than us, but not much. Anyway, it was not running down the road. Hell no. We scattered to the winds in all directions. Over fences. Through yards. Under laundry clothes lines. Through forest. There was a guy on my tail for maybe all of 200 yards. He dropped off pretty quick but it felt like a lifetime. I guess I would know now that if I still had that modicum of speed I had, if they did not catch you in 20 seconds they would be winded.
We all made it back to the locker room unscathed, shared war stories and laughed it up pretty hard. One guy hid out in somebody's garage for a bit if I recall correctly.
11 days until the days start getting longer again.
Thank you for the good laugh!
ReplyDeleteLove it :) Great story and awesomely told.
ReplyDeleteReminds me of my junior high days (back then we called it middle school, but now I'm an ironic hipster so I refuse to bow to your conformist expectations), when (once or twice) I joined friends doing the old knock on a door and run thing. Apparently, the friends had made a habit of this exciting activity, and the cops were waiting in the getaway cemetery (probably the first time those two words have ever been put together). So we did the deed, probably the first time I had ever done anything against the rules (now, of course, I am a rebel without a freaking cause.../smashes glass just for the hell of it). Suddenly, cop lights begin flashing.
Now, this was back in the day when I was a sprinter and raced all over the mid-Atlantic, and I didn't think twice. Off like a shot, I only thought about turning around when I was all the way across town. Before completing that thought, while trying to arch my neck back, a clothesline jumped out of nowhere and objected vehemently to my forward momentum. A husband and wife saw the carnage from their back porch, and brought me inside. It's a small town, so they called my mom. I was the only one of the group of junior high rebels to get caught.
Moral of the story: You don't need to be fast, just faster than your friends. Also, watch out for angry clotheslines. Third, f the police.*
*F stands for friend! They're totally on facebook now.
Great story.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, love the good old high school days stories. Fun times.
Amazing how tough you can be when out running...especially in a group. And especially as a kid. Though I have to confess that I still flip the occasional bird now every so often. The only difference is that it's not usually directed at cars anymore, but towards ATV's and snowmobiles.
Funny and familiar story!
ReplyDeleteI liked junior high so much I repeated the 7th grade. I guess 5 E's and 1 B (gym) is not good.
Nice! It's like a scene out of Dazed and Confused.
ReplyDeleteDave - OUCH. Clothesline. Damn. I was thinking you'd have a good story on something like this when I was writing this one.
ReplyDeleteF the police. Classic.
Yeah, Derrick - I throw the bird occasionally, but pretty rarely. I am concerned it might be somebody I actually know.
Sean - I need to check that movie out.