Shadowy sidewalks, marked under alien street lamps and deciduous tree color delivered WUS to the track. The odd sensation of concrete, not dirt, under feet foretold of things different. It was yet 7:15pm, though as dark outside as the deepest cave. The temperature, crispy. Here again, on routine October visitation, our friendly acquaintance, fall, gracing our presence for the evening’s affair. The Beer Mile Classic: event number four on the 2011 Don’t-Hurt-Yourself tour WUS series of races.
In action, the usual suspects: Bobby-not-to-be-confused-with-Bobby-Pin-Gill. Aaron-huge-Schwartz-Schwartzbard. Martha-break-yo’self-Nelson. Sean-where’s-the-pizza?-Andrish. Jon-what-cha-ma-call-it-LoeWUS-Deitch. Neal-coverboy-Gorman. Ryon-Straight-out-of-Africa-beard-Lane. Doug-gee-whiz-Sullivan. Brian-Hip-ie -Greeley. Anna-Little-Leprechaun-Griffis. Gaby-Head-Gorman. Jeff-Beer-Me-Reed. And, finally: Mackenzie-its-Mack-Tonight-Tepel.
Crimson was on full display as runners toed the line, each cupping their beverage of choice. A piercing, unmistakably echoy sound- “sscchhhkkkhhheeerrraaahhh…”- signaled the race start. Instantly, slurps and burps sequenced in harmonic unison. Coverboy and Bobby-Pin sprang from the gate. J-Lo gave chase. Others seemed to more enjoy their beverage, savoring the sweet taste of Milwaukee. Gulping sounds eventually quieted, empties filled the voiding wake of runners dust. For the first time in a really long time, Aaron was all by himself. Standing lonesome on the track; clipboard in hand; stop watch dictating seconds passed. The field had spread out quickly.
Most of the WUS field ran their own race. A wise decision this would prove to be as nary chunks were blown over the track. Coverboy and Bobby-Pin on the other hand, immersed in a fiery duel, set about re-writing WUS race coda on a night sea of change. An epic race developed through the darkness.
Here are a few snippets recorded in the immediate post race furry:
“Fuck, that hurt! Owwww…” said Neal, as he crashed to the dewy grass seconds after winning his first Beer Mile Classic. “Halfway through the second loop I almost shit my pants.”
Bobby-Pin, with hand still in cupped position, looked stunned. The tireless efforts over prior months to pump his chest so that it would cross the tape first, before Coverboy’s, so that he might win the race, not Coveryboy, had forced a crushing reality check. In the final race seconds, culminating in a come-from-behind Coverboy-kick, Bobby-Pin was un-seated as WUS Beer Mile Classic champion. “Dude, my buzz is kicking in,” Bobby-Pin reportedly quibbed.
Coverboy, barely able to crawl from the grass, still in possible turtle-ass-mental-self-examination-mode, began to smile as the reality of a win washed over. Martha, Aaron, and soon J-Lo- 2nd place loser- came to the aid of Coverboy, and his ass, and to congratulate a job well done.
“Best Beer Mile finish ever,” cheered Martha.
“Any beer left over?” replied Coverboy.
WUS is environmentally concious.
A WUS buzzed.
FINAL RACE RESULTS (note: track is 500 meters!):
Neal – 7:10
Bobby – 7:11
JLD – 9:14
Ryon – 9:32
Brian – 9:36
Anna – 11:09
Jeff – 11:14
Sean – 11:43
Doug – 17:54
Mackenzie – Gun time: 39:34, Chip time: 23:17
Martha (2 beer category): PONIES
Post race fellowship at Cactus Cantina. (Think they would sponsor us, by the way??)
Ryon,
If you hang on that beard i figure only one of us has to show up for WUS. We’ll be kate and …what the hell is the other one from that 90s show… what’s it called? anyway, we can both get credit for one showing up.
I think Mario’s blitzed
Neal – great post. Love the nicknames – laughed so hard. While you may have almost shat your pants in the 2nd loop, it appears that I waited until the group photo. Is it me, or is there something wrong with the $28 margarita pitchers at Cactus Cantina? I felt like garbage all day yesterday.
Mario – we missed you, but my beard told me you were there in spirit. I’m sure that Martha called me Mario at least once though.
I’m going to have to work on that mile time. 9:32? Yikes!
Most exciting moment of the evening: Being lapped at the finish line by Neal-coverboy-Gorman and Bobby-not-to-be-confused-with-Bobby-Pin-Gill (that’s the best you could do Gorman?), sprinting, neck-in-neck, then collapsing in a burping, gagging heap in the grass to the left.
Most disappointing moment of the evening: The inexplicable absence of the reigning 5-lap champion, Joe Clapper.
Better luck next time, Bobby-drinks-beer-like-fish-breathe-with-Gill.
I can’t believe Sean beat me, he doesn’t even drink! Man, I need some lessons on beer consumption.
Mario was definitely blitzed when he commented last night. What does an executive chef drink to the point of blitzation after midnight anyway? I mean, the palate… definitely nothing from Milwaukee.
Ryon, you’ve got to be kidding me, I was up all night coming up with those nicknames! Tell you what, you work on your beer mile time and I’ll work on my nickname creation. ; )
Doug, let’s go drinkin’!
It should be known for posterity that Neal declared the Beer Mile to be his toughest race of the year (including winning Grindstone a couple weeks ago). Fear the Beer!
Martha is correct. Massanutten, Leadville, Bull Run, Grindstone, Old Dominion, St. Patty’s Day 8k, etc…. have nuthin’ on the Beer Mile. Respect due.
Also, completing the WUS Slam (2 donut runs, 2 beer miles) is a feet like no other. Myself and J-Lo are the only to complete the WUS Slam. Boo Ya!
Props to the WUS Slam winners:
J-WOW and Gor-man-tastic