Back By Popular Demand

I guess I was being a little selfish lately and hording all the good news to myself. Well, not much for news but the weather has been so fantastic that I've had no choice but to be out doing what I do best, playing. There's no sense in trying to play catch-up, so I'm just going to give you a wrapup of this weekend's activities.

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Thursday Night Run Hero

Because I'm so dedicated to my job, I arrived at the Thursday Night Run 19 minutes late. That's 9 minutes after the expiration of the 10 minute rule, so I was going to have to haul ass if I wanted to catch up.

Throwing caution to the wind, I got out of the car and hit the ground running. The way I figgered it, I could catch the slow group somewhere between miles 4 and 5 if I ran at top speed. Besides the motivation of trying to catch up, I was also motivated by the fact that the sun was setting and it was getting dark.

I never did catch the group while they were running, but I finished a few minutes behind them. As it turned out, only the fast guys and gals were there, so there was no chance I was going to catch them. We bullshat for a few minutes in the parking lot, which is where I learned about the Monroe Dunbar Brook Trail Race this weekend. I did it last year and it was horrible; I'll go into details in a minute.

Moral of the story, I finished the run in last year's record time of 41:55, a time I would not have thought to be achievable had I not beat it two weeks ago.

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Friday, Not a Rest Day

This was our off Friday, and for some reason it was half a day for the local student body. A friend of mine is the coach for one of the high school Girls' XC team, and asked me to join them on a run around the road in the state forest.

The road, known informally as The Berry Pond Loop takes you from the Ranger's station up to the top of the mountain and back down again. It's a three mile thigh burning run up to the top where you are first repaid with a gorgeous view of the mountainside, then with the loop's namesake pond.

The bus was waiting for the girls at the pond, but a few of us ran it back down to the bottom (some of me further down than others). What parts of my legs the run to the top didn't burn up, the run back down finished off. My thighs were on fire about half a mile into the descent, and I was making deals with the devil by the time I reached the bottom. The girls (and coach) who braved the descent hopped into the bus leaving me to run the 2 miles back to my car.

Back at the Lesbaru, I walked around the parking lot to cool down. Before I could get away a ranger pulled up in his ranger-mobile. He rolled down his window and started off with "You a runner?". Running shoes, shorts, heart rate monitor, thick coat of sweat glistening off my chiseled body... what gave it away? He asked where I had been running and I emphasized that I was with the high school xc team in case he was going to make me pay to park.

Sure enough he's a big runner and he told me I should look into a trail race up in Monroe this weekend. "Dude, I'm already going. I've already bagged the Century I was supposed to ride with some dudes from work." What a small world, two days in a row someone told me about a small, obscure trail race up near the MA / VT border.

After that, I headed home to hook up my bike for a quick cruise out to the Rail Trail and back. A nice 30-miler to help cool down my gams. Ahhhhh, this extra month of summer has not gone to waste.

With the cooldown ride out of my way, I picked up a few groceries to make an Orange Cheesecake with (gluten-free) Faux-reo crust. It came out fantastic, but the creme filling from the faux-reos leaked out of the pan all over the bottom of my oven. When I tried to let the Clean setting take care of it, I ended up with a house full of smoke. I wanted to choke a bitch as I tried to open windows, find enough fans to clear the house, shut the damn smoke detectors up, and so on. It was a hassle.

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Saturday - Old Coot's Sabbath

I slept in late, had oatmeal for breakfast, read a magazine and otherwise chilled the eff out. I-deal.

For dinner, I would make the trip out to Asa's Acres in Windsor. J&BC once again put on a tasty spread complete with pork (whodathunk it?). I can only think of one time I ate up there and didn't have a swine product or two, and it was only because there were lobsters (or lobberts as they were called that night).

Our gullets full of swine, green beans and scalloped potatoes (thrice filled with swine and potatoes) we moved onto the orange cheesecake. Damn that was tasty. An evening of rotten language (who knew Rastafarians used foul language?), Dominoes, booze (no, not me), coffee (yeah, that was me), booze-coffee (again, not me) and ball busting was to follow. Morning Coot knew he would have to get up around 6:30 to be out in Monroe for the race, but Night Coot didn't give a shit. He was riding the Mexican Train!

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Sunday. Not the Coot's Sabbath.

Sunday morning I hopped in the Lesbaru, met up with a guy who was going to follow me out to the race and headed up into the great Northern Wilderness of MA. Let me preface this race report by saying that we had gone almost a month without rain, which makes for a nice and dry course. I even hoped that the rivers we have to cross would have receded enough that I might not have to get soaked all the way up my legs. Then, it poured all night and effed that up completely.

Sunday morning had Perfect 10 written all over it. As we got closer and closer to the State Forest, the weather got nicer and nicer and the scenic views followed suit. A quick sign-up (I hooked up a race sweatshirt for $8, cha-ching) and I was ready for my warmup. We ran maybe 3/4 of a mile along the course and it was nothing but rocks covered in wet leaves, all on a narrow path with a steep ravine on the side. This would be interesting.

So the race started and I made sure to get close to the front. After the first mile you climb 650 feet in the next 1/2 mile. Running at this point is futile, it's actually slower than walking. Then, after you complete this horrible climb up a rocky ledge, you get to run up another 1,000 feet over the course of then next few miles. It's probably more since you go up some, down some, up some, down some, etc. but I'm just ballparking it for you.

I managed alright on my quest for the top, losing only a handful of places to what proved to be some of the race's top runners. I spent the next 5 or 6 miles by myself trying to keep moving as fast as I could without completely throwing personal safety to the curb. I had a few close calls with slips and twisted ankles, but nothing serious.

When I hit the last 1/3 of the race, I found myself leap-frogging with some guy. I'd lead for a while, then he'd take the lead, then I'd get it back, and so on. I decided that the next time I got an appreciable lead I was going to turn up the burners a little and wear him down. The best part was that as I passed him my watch beeped. He asked what that was for, and I told him he didn't want to know. I have it beep at mile intervals, but in a race sometimes it's best not to know how far you have to go. He pressed me again so I told him it beeped to let me know I had passed someone in my age group. He was 50-something so it was clear we were not in the same age group, but he was dumbfounded.

By the end of the race, my feet felt like mush. Not only had I been twisting my ankles for 10.5 miles, but I had also run through two icy streams. When I hit the home stretch I pulled out all the stops and booked it for the finish line. The last hundred yards or so goes through an unnaturally perfect double row of trees. They have these huge pine trees in two perfect lines, and the needles make for a very welcome, soft running surface. I almost killed a couple of volunteers as I tore across the finish line. Apparently nobody else finished quite so strong.

Once my heart rate came down to a more moderate level I loaded up with a few drinks, a bowl of chili and a meatball grinder. A few cookies, a cuppla Diet Cokes and I would be ready for the road. Besides, I had to get home for a bike ride!

The ride was fairly uneventful, so I won't bore you with the details. Oh wait, there was one incident of note...

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Incident of Note

Picture this: we were on the Rail Trail, about halfway back to the cars as visions of promised ice cream danced in my head, and about a gallon of Powerade, Diet Coke and water danced in my bladder. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I pulled off to take a whiz. I sent the rest of the group on ahead, I'd just be a second.

That's when this wackjob comes sauntering up to me, asking about my bike. Using the same tone someone might use when saying "You got a purdy mouth" he told me I have a sweet bike. He proceeded to talk ad nauseum about everything he knew about bikes, which apparently was a lot because he told me he has 6 of them. The one he was riding today cost 700 bucks but when he broke the frame they sent him a free replacement because that's their policy but it was the wrong color.

"Oh yeah? Well I have to take a piss, so fuck off" I thought to myself. He kept asking how much it cost, if I didn't mind him asking, which I did. I responded only vaguely with "A few week's pay". "Ain't even got a kick stand on it!" he pointed out, as if to imply I got ripped off.

At this point there was no way I was taking more than one step away from my bike, even to whiz in the woods. And if this guy had any ideas about absconding with it he would be taking those ideas to the grave. I didn't like the cut of his jib and I was pretty sure I could take his chain smoking, bike not knowing ass if it came down to it. I kept one eye on that skeevebag while I took care of business.

After I caught my group I was telling my harrowing story when I asked what it was about me that attracted creepy bike path dudes. Just then the creepiest of all creepy bike path dudes rode by in the other direction. Years ago this guy (35 years my senior) rode alongside me for about 7 miles while I was running, and by the end had told me he was allowed to have extra-marital relationships and then basically invited me up to his buddy's camp in NH. No thanks, creepazoid.

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So there you have it. I got lots of play time in this weekend and almost had to whoop some old chainsmoking, heebie-jeebie giving, hint not taking ass.

Over and Out,
Old Coot