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The Running Bets

I like to bet. For those of you who have read the story about how I was a professional gambler, this is obvious. What I don't like to do is exercise. At one point in my life, these two activities joined to provide an interesting story.

I have a friend named Hayden. He likes to bet me. For a while we had a running string of bets, and I was down overall because I failed to get 10x his score in a Tony Hawk competition. At one point I was one of the top 10 Tony Hawk players in the world. That lasted for about 5 minutes until someone from Japan beat my score.

Hayden and I sat across from my kitchen table.

Run Through The Finish Line

On Cameron Chardukian

We had completely separated ourselves from the pack. I had been the leader the whole race, but we were now neck and neck running stride for stride in the final straightaway of the 800m. He was pushing me to my limits, but with less than 10m to go I was still in the lead.

The excitement within the stadium was tremendous. The atmosphere was inspirational and the energy felt within that moment was indescribable. As my feet continued to pound against the rubber I saw him out of the corner of my eye. We were neck and neck once again with but two or three strides separating us from the finish line.

As I took a stride he took one, and as I leaped for the finish line he mirrored me. The crowd exploded, but as I stumbled across the finish line and looked up I saw the disappointment in the faces of my teammates. I had lost, and with tears in my eyes I walked off the track.

I had let everyone down. The girl I loved. My parents. My brothers. My teammates. But most of all, I had let myself down.

I was pissed. I had seen the finish line. My mouth was watering, but because I ran to the finish line instead of through it I never got to taste victory. After losing I made a promise to myself that day. I was done with just running to the finish line.

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