Who's the fox? Who's the turkey?

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that this year on Thanksgiving day, before stuffing ourselves silly, Justin and I were going to join the crazies (a.k.a. Justin's dad and my friend Stephanie) and partake in a four mile race along the Fox River in Batavia (a suburb of Chicago).

For your amusement, here's a revelation I had on the way there.

Me: "I wonder who's the fox and who's the turkey in the race today."
Justin: "What?"
Me: "Between us, who is the fox and who is the turkey?"
Justin: Silence (obviously not fully awake yet)
Me: "According to the race's logo, I am the fox and you are the turkey."
Justin: "How's that?"
Me: "The fox is chasing the turkey and since you're a foot taller than me and faster, that makes you the turkey and me the fox."
Justin: Silence (No response, clearly ignoring my immature observations.)
Me: "Well, it's true."

Anywho, this fox finished the race in 35 minutes and 39 seconds and my handsome turkey finished in 31 minutes and 58 seconds. No third place medals this race but I finished 18th and he finished 16th in our respective gender-age groups. Not too shabby for a race in 38º F weather, with a narrow slippery course, and with 999 other runners.

(Stephanie and me before the race. She's in the white knit hat and I'm to the right in the blue jacket.)