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??)
Tussey MountainBack 50-mile relay
State College, PA
Sunday October 23, 2011
I was impossibly nice to the cashier at Trader Joes in Bethesda last night. I gave my mom an unusually long hug last night after our Monday night Old Lady Aerobics + dinner tradition. I spent all morning cleaning my apartment, scrubbing parts of my toilet and under furniture that have never been cleaned since I moved in, because I knew sitting at a computer and trying to do phylogenetic analysis simply wouldn’t work today. I’ve had a somewhat delayed reaction to Ed’s tragic death on Leg 8 of the Tussey MountainBack 50-mile relay. Maybe it’s because our van was ahead of the event and really didn’t grasp the severity of the situation until Marty broke the news just as I was saying my last goodbyes before driving back to DC. So I never had a chance to share my grief with other NVRC runners, departing for DC before the sadness really set in. For the few minutes between learning the news from Marty and departing I was caught in a bizarre state of shock combined with lingering post-race high (I must confess, with a tinge of guilt, that our team had a great time, as we were largely spared from the terrible shadows of the day until the very end when we were departing).
I may have to return to State College for the memorial run in two weeks. I can’t think of any way to cope with the sadness other than to be with my Nittany Valley Running Club (NVRC) family as we collectively grieve along the trail of Ed’s last steps.
It may seem inappropriate to speak of this year’s MountainBack experience in light of Ed’s tragedy, given that up until the very end my experience was so overwhelmingly positive, while it was so traumatic for others. But MountainBack is something sacred for me, and even this darkest cloud does not diminish its standing as the most exceptional race there is — the only race where when my friend Tany asked me to be a bridesmaid in the wedding she held two weeks ago, I told her (to a bit of her chagrin) that I had to check my calendar first to make sure it didn’t conflict with Tussey (I’m sorry, MtBk comes first!). It meant so much to be able to give Aaron a taste of why this little relay is so special.
Maybe next year I’ll write more details about what Tussey MountainBack is all about — how the Draft Relay Challenge (DCR) works with its captains and bios and picks and such. How our dear Commish John Sheakoski thwarts my plans every year to bend the rules so that I can have the people I want on my team (poor Aaron had to chug up Legs 4 and 10 with me since John deemed him too fast to replace Selena). Or to explain why the race is the greatest running party in the world, a simultaneous celebration of gut-busting effort and the social bonds that seem to naturally germinate within and among the teams as the race goes on.
For now you’re just going to have to take my word that there is no running group as tight-knit as the NVRC, no relay scheme as ingenious as the DCR, and no race that so captures the spirit of running as the Tussey MountainBack. Ed’s tragedy — and the way our group has responded to it — has only intensified these convictions.
Mill Creek - photo courtesy Jeff Musick
Bob Combs - photo courtesy Jeff Musick
Doug and Bill - photo courtesy Jeff Musick
Kerry - photo courtesy Jeff Musick
Matty (T-rex) Woods makes mince meat of his 6 donuts
With only one day to go before the WUS Donut Run of Champions (DROC), it seemed that the WUSsies were living up to their name. Robin & Kirsten had shown donut spirit, but no male freely dared to challenge Neal Gorman’s feats of sugary domination from last April: we assumed Adam didn’t have a choice, Sean was moaning about excess patent work, Doug was infatuated by his Ben & Jerry’s, and Keith was leading a rival run to promote sugary temperance.
But on race day the WUS responded to Neal’s call to arms (http://www.twitvid.com/61YZT). Jon L-D had run DROC’s sister run, UROC, just days before, and was nursing a bruised foot. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that he confirmed his participation in DROC. Sean was able to put aside the drill bit reviews for an evening of running and junk food consumption (which, truth be told, is a fairly standard evening for Sean). The ringer of the run, though, was Matt W, having had several weeks to recover from his dominating performance at the 100k world championship race.
Several donut run groupies gathered at the fountain in Dupont Circle, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the first runner. Martha, Aaron, Ryon and Tom were joined by Kerry, who brought a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, so Doug could take the ice cream option for the run, and several more pints in case anyone else chose to do the same (Keith & Mario swung by during their WUS Normale to dip into Kerry’s ice cream).
The first runners to arrive were Jon L-D and Neal, neck and neck. JLD got an early jump on the donut eating, but Neal’s strategic use of the Semen Collection Cup helped his later donuts go down extra smooth and he left the Circle first. However, the donut bitsies churned up some activity in Neal’s intestines on R Street and someone’s yard got a little present there, allowing JLD to pass and finish victorious in a new record of 47 minutes.
We had considered Matty Woods to be a strong contender, but he forgot his light and tagged along with Sean, whose decades of junk food consumption should have poised him to seriously challenge Neal & JLD (apparently some long nights in the patent office during the end of the fiscal year set him back a notch or two). Matty recommended that we up the donut intake to 8 at least — 6 was trivial.
Neal Gorman tries to defend his title
Robin Blendell, female victor
Adam was a gentleman and waited for his fiance Robin, who stole the ladies championship, redeeming last April’s beer mile spewfest.
Doug Digs In
Doug found his pint of Ben & Jerry’s to be considerably more difficult to scarf than he’d imagined.
Since Seanie hadn’t RSVPed and we hadn’t bought him donuts, we had to make an emergency return trip to Krispy Kreme to get Kirstin donuts, although this turned out to be fortuitous because Jeff Reed also late-showed and needed 6 sugary goodnesses as well.
Here is JLD during the post-race sugar high: http://www.twitvid.com/XMBL5 and Neal Gorman’s post-mortem, continuing to enjoy his beverage container of choice http://www.twitvid.com/MLHI2.
JLD tells the assembled crowd of something awful he saw on R Street
One course. One day. One champion. Either your head is in the game or it’s not. Either way, see you Tuesday. Or not.
