Running From Yourself

The bull head weighed exactly twelve pounds. I knew because I'd spent the entire morning weighing it on my mom's kitchen scale, trying to calculate exactly how much my dignity was about to cost.

"You gonna wear the hat or what?" Marcus asked, adjusting his own oversized foam horns.

My hat—this stupid cowboy hat that completed the mascot ensemble—kept sliding over my eyes. "I'm regretting every life choice that led to this moment."

"Bro, you lost the bet. Fair and square." Marcus grinned. "Now you're Bull #2 for the charity 5K. Embrace it."

Running through downtown in a sweaty foam suit while people screamed "GO BULLS!" wasn't exactly how I'd planned to spend my Saturday. Especially not with Jessica watching from the sidelines. She'd joined track last month and was currently stretching in those tiny shorts that made my brain short-circuit.

"Ready?" The race coordinator shouted through a megaphone. "On your marks..."

The bull costume was already ninety degrees inside. I could feel sweat dripping down my back as the starting horn blared. Everyone bolted forward, all elastic energy and pumping limbs. I tried to run, but the costume's legs had somehow twisted around my actual legs, turning what should've been a jog into more of a rhythmic hobble.

Half a mile in, my hat flew off. I stopped to grab it—big mistake. Bull #2 tripped over Bull #1 (Marcus), and suddenly we were a tangled foam disaster on the pavement while a hundred runners hurdled over us like we were roadkill.

Jessica jogged past. I saw her look down. I saw her mouth form a perfect little "O" of suppressed laughter.

I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve into the asphalt and never exist again.

But then—she doubled back. Grabbed my dusty cowboy hat from the ground. Smacked it back onto my bull head at a jaunty angle.

"Nice form, Bull Boy," she said, winking. "Save some dance for me at Homecoming?"

Then she was gone, all ponytail and confidence and whatever magic made her Jessica.

Marcus was still laughing on the ground. I picked myself up, adjusted my bull head, and started running again.

The foam was suffocating. The heat was brutal. My legs were screaming.

I'd never felt more alive.