Today that somebody was me.
Rode in "The Great River Ride" through the Berkshires in Massachusetts. Got to the ride late. Got a little lost, and pretty soon I was all by myself. So I noodled along on my own through woods and farmland. The trees were glowing with autumn colors. I saw a number of wild turkeys. Even saw a moose, something I never encountered during the six years I lived in New England back in the day.
As I arrived at the first rest stop, a guy was packing up the last of the gatorade and cookies. He told me, with what seemed a bit of an evil grin, "You're last."
"Somebody's gotta be last," I said. I ate a few cookies and a banana and chugged on.
Near the end I met up with a cyclist and was happy to have someone to ride in with. "I got lost," I said by way of explanation for my last-place status.
"I got lost, too" he said. "I'm riding the full century, and I went 20 miles out of my way."
"You lapped me," I told him. "I'm just riding the metric." It seemed to make him feel better.
Anyway, all my life, I never wanted to come in last. And I never did. Until today. And, it was ok. In fact, it wasn't bad at all.