Foolish race

grand teton

One day while I was planning a needed weekend ride, my good wife said she’d like to go and run along my side.

You see, my wife’s a runner. She can run on foot all day. I prefer to ride a saddle horse. That’s why I feed ’em hay.

Now the manly man that I’ve become said, “Hon, you’ll slow me down.” Why did I say those stupid words that triggered such a frown?

But then that frown became a smile that spread across her face. “My dear,” she said, “You’ve too much pride. It’s time we had a race.”

The challenge I accepted — it’s the worst thing I have done. I’d put my big foot in my mouth. I’d seen that woman run.

The fateful day came soon enough. My wife chose Teton Park. She mapped a rugged loop out that would get us back by dark.

I’d saddled up old Cyrus. He was my only hope. We started with an even trot and broke into a lope.

My wife took off running and I hoped she’d be okay. She had run alone so many times, no matter what I’d say.

Well, Cyrus had a tough time through the rocks and fallen trees. But they didn’t slow my wife. She kept on moving like a breeze.

I passed some friendly hikers, and they said, “She’s on the run. She said to say hello to you hopes you’re having fun.”

I guess I had forgotten where the trail was slick and steep. When Cyrus hit a slippery spot, we fell into a heap.

I brushed the dirt and pride off then we headed down the trail. It seemed like all my sound horse sense was left to no avail.

Then all at once I saw a note she’d hung there on a tree. Said, “You better hurry faster or you won’t be catching me.”

I finished out my horse ride with a nice and easy gait. The trail now made it easy. It was finally somewhat straight.

My ride was almost over. I had made it to the end. And there my wife was waiting. Now I had some fence to mend.

She chose my favorite place to eat. Just like her, wouldn’t you know! I don’t remember what she had, but I was eating crow.


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Bryce Angell’s father was an outfitter and guide for 35 years, and Bryce was there to shoe and care for the horses and help him do the cooking. Bryce is from Idaho and still rides into the Tetons, Yellowstone and surrounding areas. His poems are mostly of personal experience.



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