When a friend told me she was entering a race called Running with the Cows, I had visions of a poor-mans Spain. No ancient stadiums in the background, but fields of cows. Instead of the enticing smell of paella, Montana-sized pancake poop patties. No matter. I was proud of my friend for preparing to run alongside some heffers in the middle of the summer. With the snow in Tahoe melted, what else does one do?
"No, no!" she said, disabusing me of the notion of four-legged omnivores. "I'm talking-COWS. As in, fat people."
I was speechless, then burst in to laughter. Surely, no one, especially a large person, is going to admit to being Cow-ish. Or do they? "Yes!" my friend continued, her voice suffused with mirth. In fact, the race has different categories for weight," (it's all about the weight she explained). "Really fat people--the heffers--are given a three minute lead, the next class a two minute and so on, all the way down to only small calfs." The premise behind the staggered race is to give everyone a shot of winning the race. Sure enough, I go to the web site, and it states, "the more a person weighs, the earlier they start the race." Like those odds. But the best part? The Names. Check this out.
-Wagon Ox
-Beefalo
-Angus Cows
-Jersey Cows
-Quarter Pounders
-Low Fat Yougurt
-Tofu Burgers
I guess the really thin people are Tofu, while the ones that take two seats on a plane are in the Wagon Ox class.
I'm retelling this to my husband on the road trip this last weekend, and he does me one better. He proceeds to tell me about a race his macho-man, 240 lb F-14 fighter pilot-master scubadiver/triathlete ran in last summer. Like this race, it was weight-based. Our friend rated the "Cydesdale class" (yes, they have these for men). The best part was our friend summarizing the entire race.
"There I was," he said, "going all out. Killing myself on the last stretch, giving it all I could. My body was screaming. I hear this 'hurumph' behind me, some girgling and flapping on the ground," he continued. To his dismay, the sounds are getting closer and he tries without success to speed up. Pretty soon, the 'hurumph' is by his shoulder, and suddenly, our friend is sprayed with spit, like the backwash from a Mastiff. "Here was the biggest black man I'd ever seen," he says, "his feet were huuuge! and he just plows by me like I was standing still." Rog said he was laughing so hard, what with the 'harumphing' replica sound effects, complete with spit hitting him in the face during our friend re-enactment. Who would have known weight-based races were so replete with fun?
I'd go run one myself, were it not for the fact that a) I don't run, bad for my joints and b) I'd be slightly afeared to find out my weight class. I didn't see one for droopy-utter class, but that's probably for me.
(BTW-did anyone notice that She took matters in to her own hands, and created a Music Tab at the top of the blog? She couldn't stand going to the posting list every time it was refreshed. Now I've been told I need an 80's dance music tab, since we all know the inception of true dance started with that lovely, immortalized decade).
 |
| Cow patties and racing. A match made in runners heaven. all yours in Fallon, NV |
I was speechless, then burst in to laughter. Surely, no one, especially a large person, is going to admit to being Cow-ish. Or do they? "Yes!" my friend continued, her voice suffused with mirth. In fact, the race has different categories for weight," (it's all about the weight she explained). "Really fat people--the heffers--are given a three minute lead, the next class a two minute and so on, all the way down to only small calfs." The premise behind the staggered race is to give everyone a shot of winning the race. Sure enough, I go to the web site, and it states, "the more a person weighs, the earlier they start the race." Like those odds. But the best part? The Names. Check this out.
-Wagon Ox
-Beefalo
-Angus Cows
-Jersey Cows
-Quarter Pounders
-Low Fat Yougurt
-Tofu Burgers
I guess the really thin people are Tofu, while the ones that take two seats on a plane are in the Wagon Ox class.
I'm retelling this to my husband on the road trip this last weekend, and he does me one better. He proceeds to tell me about a race his macho-man, 240 lb F-14 fighter pilot-master scubadiver/triathlete ran in last summer. Like this race, it was weight-based. Our friend rated the "Cydesdale class" (yes, they have these for men). The best part was our friend summarizing the entire race.
"There I was," he said, "going all out. Killing myself on the last stretch, giving it all I could. My body was screaming. I hear this 'hurumph' behind me, some girgling and flapping on the ground," he continued. To his dismay, the sounds are getting closer and he tries without success to speed up. Pretty soon, the 'hurumph' is by his shoulder, and suddenly, our friend is sprayed with spit, like the backwash from a Mastiff. "Here was the biggest black man I'd ever seen," he says, "his feet were huuuge! and he just plows by me like I was standing still." Rog said he was laughing so hard, what with the 'harumphing' replica sound effects, complete with spit hitting him in the face during our friend re-enactment. Who would have known weight-based races were so replete with fun?
I'd go run one myself, were it not for the fact that a) I don't run, bad for my joints and b) I'd be slightly afeared to find out my weight class. I didn't see one for droopy-utter class, but that's probably for me.
(BTW-did anyone notice that She took matters in to her own hands, and created a Music Tab at the top of the blog? She couldn't stand going to the posting list every time it was refreshed. Now I've been told I need an 80's dance music tab, since we all know the inception of true dance started with that lovely, immortalized decade).
1 comments:
That is one GIANT pic of cow poo! I hope to be able to run this provided I can get over the flu and get back on my training schedule.
Post a Comment