Race time: And the winner is?

Growing up I remember running race after race on the playground gravel. I raced to impress the girls, settle differences, blow off steam and did I mention to impress girls? I thought my days of seeing boys settle their differences died on the playground gravel but I was wrong.

I don't know what quite started it, but as two grown men toed the starting line, I knew I was going to see the finish... eventually.

It all started months ago between my friend and my boss. In one corner you had my friend Pate, a plump jovial fellow that likes beer and Cardinal baseball. In the other corner was my boss Jensen, who has single-handedly kept cigarette companies in business for decades and who is 30 years Pate's senior.

The exact course of events that sparked this battle of athleticism is lost to the ages but somehow each thought they were faster than the other and a race was set.

The weeks and days leading up to the race were a series of one liners and attacks on each other's person that can't be reprinted due to censorship rules. The anticipation was building as word of "The Race" began to spread through circles and a bet was even made. A Pate loss meant he would have to wear a Sikeston Bulldogs shirt to work -- which just happens to be at New Madrid County Central. A Jensen loss meant he would have to wear a skirt to work -- and nobody wanted to see that.

Much thought was put into the race location. Jensen wanted to beat Pate in two counties so talk of racing where Scott and New Madrid counties meet was discussed. As were locations at Main and Malone and in front of the Standard Democrat. All were eventually rejected because if somebody fell on pavement it could hurt, so it was settled on the Sikeston High School track.

The day of "The Race" finally arrived and the rain and snow cleared just in time to give the runners some sunshine on a cold, brisk day. Mother Nature wasn't going to stand in the way of this colossal event.

One thing that hadn't been decided on was the distance. Everything from 20 yards to 100 yards was discussed and finally 60 yards was settled on. No pushing, shoving, biting, clawing or crying was to be allowed, although sobbing was acceptable. Jensen put out his cigarette. It was race time.

The two grown men toed the line as I stood at the finish line, ready to witness this great athletic event. Excitedly I yelled "GO!" as I started recording the video, not wanting to miss a second.

They were off and then -- man down!

The poor track reached up and tackled poor Pate and he went down like a deer that had been shot at full speed. The shock waves were felt as far south as Arkansas and as far north as St. Louis.

Being a good sport, Jensen pulled up in laughter and decided that a restart was deserving. Pate, being a good sport, dusted himself off and walked back to the starting line determined to not fall the next race. Being the good sport I am, I wiped away the tears of laughter and made sure I had the fall on video.

Each man was more determined than ever as they toed the starting line a second time. I made sure the video was recording as I yelled "GO!" again. The race was afoot.

Jensen took an early lead, his mustache hair slightly moving in the breeze created from his speed. Pate started slow, but was able to stay upright, his arms flailing to help propel him faster. I can't be sure, but I thought that I could hear the sound of "Chariots of Fire" being played, gently.

As they neared the finish line, Jensen appeared to be slowing as Pate seemed to have reached maximum speed and was closing fast. But as they crossed the finish line Jensen raised his hands in victory, leaving Pate one stride behind.

As Jensen gasped and panted trying to find his breath to celebrate his monumental victory, Pate, with as much dignity as he could muster, gathered up his pride and congratulated the old man. I took a deep sigh of relief that I didn't have to call an ambulance for either one of them.

One of the greatest athletic events I've ever laid my eyes on was over and all I could think of was how we should leave the races on the playgrounds. Maybe next time they should just play "Rock, Paper, Scissors." But the video wouldn't be as good.