The Drunken Mile

Some time at the end of last year while hanging out on the porch of BOX I was approached by a couple of gentleman from the track team who invited me to participate in something they called the drunken mile. I told the men that I would love to attend, however this event did not begin until midnight. In retrospect that may have been my downfall. Instead of resting up and preparing for whatever awaited me, (the only thing I knew was to show up at the track with a 6-pack at midnight) I went out with everyone and was quite hammered by the time 11:45 rolled around. I recruited Craig to join in with me, and Craig, Stephanie, and myself headed off to the track with a 12 pack and belly's full of liquor. When we arrived there were at least 20 participants decked out in full running attire. I was wearing jeans, a polo, and flip flops. The rules of the competition were simple.... Chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap. On an empty stomach this would be pretty easy, but after drinking for 4 hours, things got difficult. Stephanie may have consumed half to three quarters of a beer and run a lap or two before graciously bowing out. At least there was some effort put in. Craig projectile vomited after 3/4 of his first lap and also declared himself a loser, however Craig and myself were by far the drunkest people in attendance. As for my race, I started quite strong. In retrospect I may have been cheating considering that I was shotgunning my beers but that is neither here nor there. Going into the fourth and final lap I had a very slight lead in the competition, even though I can guarantee I was the slowest runner in attendance, the shotgunning was key. About 100 yards into my final lap disaster struck. I found a sewer drain, got on all fours and proceeded to spend at least three minutes vomiting my guts out. I tried to get up midway through and continue the race, but was forced about 6 feet later to stop and continue vomiting. After I stopped voming, I noticed that of all the participants still running, I was in last place. I of course decided to try and cheat by cutting across the long jump pit and the grass in the middle of the track. A brilliant plan except it was dark and that wasn't sand, it was the steeplechase pit and I fell into a two foot deep puddle of water. As i crossed the finish line, soaking wet and in dead last I was proud of the showing BOX had presented there. We can only hope the smell of Craig's and my vomit still lingers whenever Andy's sister runs past that stretch of track.