Chicken

With the exception of today (Sunday, my now proclaimed "lazy day" where I eat TimTams and watch Netflix on end), I've gone running every morning on the beach. Nearly every day when I head out down the road, I always see another man walking opposite of me. He's barefoot, not homeless, and dressed right for the beach.

Yesterday, I was feeling ornery and agitated, and what better way to burn off those negative nancies than by plowing through some sand. I put on an angry face, brought out my iPod that was blasting Black Eyed Peas and KMFDM, and strode on the street.

I saw Barefoot Man heading toward the beach, and I was speedily walking and jumping from street to sidewalk. Cars are always in the way, so one has to artfully dodge around them while minding oncoming motorcycles and other people. BM noticed me, and I steely stared ahead, maintaining a good pace. I followed him closely when he crossed a major intersection, as I wasn't particularly feeling up to being made into a road pie.

Both of us, separately, headed toward the shore. I'm sure the scowl on my face made me quite unappealing, so I took off as soon as I reached the firm sand. Water crashed around my ankles as Fergie's beats wailed in my ears. I followed my usual pattern of beach running - run and run and run until my lungs are screaming into my ribs, stop to power walk, and repeat the cycle.

BM must not have noticed I had followed so close, because I passed him up. I heard him call out in surprise, but I was too nervous/embarrassed to turn around and make eye contact. I could practically feel the shift in the air when he turned around to face me, but I pretended I was so engrossed in meeting some invisible man half-way, right at the borderline (ack! Song stuck in my head!), I just ran ahead, my earphones swinging like an erratic pendulum around my face.

By the time I reached the rickety pier, I was pretty pooped. I had already gone for a run early that morning, so I ran out just a bit more before turning around. This time, BM had nearly caught up. He totally noticed me approaching, when I leaped over the gritty, deep mounds of sand and over the wooden planks.

It was then I realized, we were playing a game. We were totally playing chicken. I was running ahead, and he'd match me. He'd catch up. Then, he'd try to outrun me. It didn't dawn on me until I saw him run past me, glancing quickly over his shoulder, as I was jogging back toward the road. Holy crap. He is totally trying to mess with me. Ohhh, I'm onto you. I am so onto you man.

Watch out, BM. I'm getting up bright and early tomorrow morning. I hope you're there waiting for me.