Foolish race

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.