As long as I can remember, I’ve been a fast runner. But crafty too.
I remember one time in particular back when we lived in some apartments. We lived on the corner of an open courtyard. You know, grass in the middle, sidewalk around it, and square.
Very square.
Anyway, one day, some kid from outside the courtyard, someone I didn’t know because I wasn’t allowed outside the courtyard, visited. He rode a nice bike and thought he was amazing.
Trouble is, I knew I was.
He wanted to race. I had a bike and was pretty fast, but I knew my advantage was my running. And craftiness.
Plus, I wasn’t allowed outside the courtyard, which meant I couldn’t race on the straight-away. Perfect.
Instead, I taunted him.
“I could beat you on your bike just running barefoot,” I said. He didn’t know I wasn’t allowed out of the courtyard.
“No you can’t,” he said. “Prove it.”
“Okay, we’ll race,” I said. “But I can’t go out there to race, so we’ll race around here. You on your bike, and I’ll just run.”
At that point, he couldn’t back down. A couple other kids were around too. Plus, he probably didn’t realize what he was getting into. But I did.
I knew bikes didn’t stand much chance on short, sprint distances because they can’t accelerate as quickly as someone on foot. I also knew the courtyard, since it was square, which meant four corners, was crazy hard to ride a bike around at any speed, much less race speed.
I knew because I lived there and had tried it. He didn’t because he wasn’t from my courtyard and was used to straight-aways. He was a few years older than I was too, so he probably didn’t think it would matter.
Too bad for him. I won. Easily.
I don’t remember seeing him again either. And after that, I could always say I’d beaten a guy on a bike running.
Yeah, I’ve always been arrogant. I think I was six then.
