I was witness to the great debate towards the end of dinner, after the Beer Mile, at Cactus Cantina: who beat who? Martha or Joe? A $100 wager was agreed upon.
Then, by happenstance, I see this photo taken by RunningTwig:
Is Martha finished with the race at this point? She does not reach for a beer implying she has in fact finished, though I could be wrong. If Martha is in fact finished at this point then who is that still running behind her? Mr. Clapper. That’s who. Could this be all the evidence that we need? Or is video still necessary? Bobby?
‘Man, it’s going to be hard for the Beer Mile to live up to the Donut Run, that was so great,’ Mr Andrish mused.
‘Are you kidding?’ I replied with the eye roll Sean’s seen a million times. ‘The Donut Run was just warm up. Child’s play. The Beer Run will be epic. You’ll see.’
Sean discovers Martha was right. As always....
After 12 successful Martha Miles at Penn State (4 per year for 3 years), I effectively retired the show when I moved to DC. 1) I had never actually organized a Beer Mile, I had simply announced when and where and left it to detail-oriented friends to administer, 2) I thought our chances of getting arrested in the District were excellent, and 3) I honestly wasn’t convinced the WUSsies would bite, at least not the Old Guard.
But the WUS group has been morphing steadily over the last year, with lots of fresh new faces, mainly thanks to Jon L-D’s gang (Robin, Adam, and Anna) and Keith’s recruiting from the Arlington track (Sean B, Ryon via Nancy….at least Keith is getting something out of those workouts….), and in this changing of the guard I discerned glimmers of Beer Mile potential.
Newbies Anna, Adam (4th), Robin (3rd): Redefining 'WUS'
A little more than a month ago, while pacing around the track with Doug and Joe, the mighty Cathedral luminescing against a black sky, I had a vision. The clouds murmured, the church bells rang, the Beer Mile spirits grumbled, and I realized that I, the girl who doesn’t drink much beer and is about as organizationally inclined as a four year-old, must lead the WUSsies into the land of Carbonated Competition. Without a second’s delay I announced to Joe and Doug that a Beer Mile would be held on this very track on Thursday, April 28, 2011, the day of my 30th birthday. I would run it on my own if I had to.
Aaron's camera angles masterfully capture my beer belly.
Just how would I lure to the Beer Mile these reluctant WUSsies, whose hair I had to pull just to go to CPBG for Tuesday beer and pizza? I needed a Poster Boy, someone with élan, charisma, whose name carried respectability and stature and whose endorsement would drive the WUSsies to the track in deferential droves. Neal seemed more interested in lending his brand to the Donut Run than the Beer Mile, but no matter, that was all part of the plan: lure them all in with donuts and then stick ‘em the next week with beer. Oh, and make it a Race Series – as evidenced by the Beast, WUSsies cannot resist the draw of the Last Man Standing kind of multi-event competitions.
In the Beer Mile, the Early Birds Hurt the Worst
Well folks, the Inaugural Beer Mile sure shook up the bookies — Mario didn’t puke, the CoverBoy was upended, Justine was even beat by my dad, and the Dark Horse Bobby Gill slipped in under the Aaron radar to claim the surprise victory. Of course I won the women’s, but that is the only known quantity going into any Beer Mile. There was some chatter about beers for breakfast and disciples of the sensei, but we all knew that was all a lot of hot air.
Due to my impaired organizational skills (as alluded to earlier), it will take some conferring between myself, our timekeeper boy Vishal, and Bobby Gill’s camcorder to post official results. We know that Bobby won in a mighty 6:57, Neal shortly after in 7:07, and Sean B in third in 7:48, even after having eaten dinner already (rookie error). I took the women’s race in ~8:45, just behind Adam in 4th (8:40), with Kirstin in second (13:09) and Robin in third, even after her penalty lap (college was a long time ago, wasn’t it, Ms Morrison?). After much hype about Joe and Michele’s drinking prowess, Michele Harmon finished a glorious last place, and while Joe Clapper insists he beat me, we have a $100 bet riding on the video replay that will show that I actually lapped him (sorry Joe, you probably thought I’d be too drunk to recall that conversation, but there is a whole section of my brain reserved for when there is money on the table).
Overall Results Women
1. Bobby Gill, 6:57 1. Martha Nelson, 8:45
2. Neal Gorman, 7:07 2. Kirstin Corris, 13:09
3. Sean Burn, 7:58 3. Robin Blendell
4. Adam Watkins, 8:40
5. Martha Nelson, 8:45
6. Ryon Lane, 8:57
For prizes the victors received limited edition Martha Mile shirts (Layer 1) and Georgetown cupcakes. As always, there were not enough prizes to go around, and there were certainly some individuals (like our beer provider Colin) who clearly deserved something more – but I learned well from the Donut Run that when the prizes run out I need to stop talking. Oh, and I received some special birthday prizes too (sorry, I was way too drunk and giggly to explain the story behind the Playgirl – you’ll have to ask me, Keith, Sean, or Brian on a run some day what catnip mice have to do with dirty magazines).
Winner Bobby Gill is still mighty pleased with Layer 1. (Word of warning to WUS women: Bobby was later overheard announcing, 'A-cups are no problem.')
After the run we had a lovely stroll around the Cathedral to Cactus Cantina, where we had far too many pitchers of margaritas and said way too many embarrassing things in front of my poor parents (fortunately I’m convinced that their comprehension fades below a certain level of crudeness – but remind me to next time get chicken or some dish less conducive to teenage boy humor than fish tacos).
Well, WUSsies, that’s a wrap. Time to start training for next year. Don’t be surprised if Neal’s next magazine story includes tips for incorporating foamy beverages into one-legged squats. And maybe we can convince Joe & Michele to offer beer at the Visitor Center aid station at MMT — oh wait, I think they did last year, only some a-wipe volunteer drank it all. And Ladies, Ladies, we are going to have some training runs this summer, nice little 4-5 milers with a beer every mile….everybody’s gotta learn to burp.
Participants
Finishers: Doug Sullivan, Bobby Gill, Neal Gorman, Colin Campbell, Kirstin Corris, Justine Morrison, Jon Loewus-Deitch, Mario Raymond, Ryon Lane, Michele Harmon, Joe Clapper, Adam Watkins, Robin Blendell, Bob Nelson, Fred Nelson, Hans Nichols, Sean Burn, Mike Dorsey, Martha Nelson
I’m Your Mom and I’m Only Drinking 1 Beer: Jill Nelson
DNF: Brian Greeley, Anna Griffis
Volunteers: Aaron Schwartzbard, Vishal Sahni, Keith Knipling, Margaret Campbell, Sean Andrish, Tom Corris, Marko Rajkovic, Gaby Duran-Gorman, Bella Lane, David Kirk
At least made margaritas: Kerry Owens
More pictures available from Aaron, Kirstin, and Doug.
In the spring of 2005 a Penn State grad student designed the ‘Martha Mile’ race shirt. He happened to also run a ~6:30 beer mile, but he is most famous for forgetting to remove the Layers in the Illustrator file he sent me, which provided me with boobage of varying proportions. Given the demand for shirts now on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line (upon hearing of the DC Mile, the Penn Staters have demanded that the MM be re-instated this summer in State College), I have dug up the file (this is an amazing feat — I cannot even find files from 6 months ago, let alone 6 years) and am considering producing another small round of shirts. However, I once again am presented with the question: Which Layer?
Layer 1 -- the default option
Layer 2 -- perhaps more realistic?
Layer 3 -- pretty wrong but pretty funny
The beer mile, as told by Bobby’s inner monologue:
Wait, why are we running to the track?
Wait, where is the track?
Ok, here it is.
OOOH. Dirt. Fun!
OOOH. Beer. Even more fun!
Wait, Michelob Ultra?
Eh, free beer is free beer.
…and it says “ultra” on it, so it must be good.
Is Clapper wearing cut-off painters pants?
Clapper’s drunk. One less competitor to worry about.
Uh oh, they’re all lining up.
Beer me!
Dude I am gonna get destroyed.
All these new people who do track workouts?
I bet I’m gonna get chicked by Martha.
Neal has somehow achieved negative body fat.
I’m screwed.
GO TIME!
Hello delicious nectar. Get in mah belly!
F*ck, this beer is way too cold.
It tastes like burning!
Slow and steady, Bobby. Just get it down without spilling.
Uh oh, everyone is running already.
DRINK FASTER.
Ok, 1 down. Go run.
What the hell? Did Jon just puke foam on me?
Keep running.
What the hell? Did Jon just snot rocket me?
Just ignore it, dumbass. Keep running.
Whoa, back at the start already.
3rd place? I can dig that.
BUUUUUURP.
See if you can do this beer in one gulp.
Nope, horrible idea Bobby.
Take a breather so you don’t puke.
BUUUUURP.
2 down. Go.
Ok, I think I can handle this pace.
I am smooth and swift like a Kenyan
…but like a fat Kenyan.
Dear God Neal is fast.
Just hang on, Bobby.
Watch me get injured in a 1 mile race.
Back into transition. 2nd place.
New strategy: move can away from mouth.
Well fancy that. A smooth, fast pour. That’s what I’m talking about.
3 down. Go!
I’m ahead of Neal! Woohoo!
Crap, Neal is ahead.
Am I burping with every step?
Keep it down, keep it down, keep it down.
This is not going to end well.
♪♫ It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday. ♪♫
CRAP, why is that song permanently stuck in my head?
Burp everything out before you make it back.
Ok, beer #4. Let’s do this.
You can out-drink Neal but you can’t out-run him. FASTER!
Gulp. Burp. Gulp. Done.
4 down. Neal is still drinking. GO!
Run like your life depends on it.
Glance over the shoulder and gauge the gap.
You looked too quick, idiot. You didn’t see anything.
Look again.
Right on my tail. Damnit.
I bet he’s doing this on purpose.
Ok, stomach trouble starting to kick in.
♪♫ Friday, Friday… ♪♫
Damn that song!
Do I hear them yelling my name back in transition?
No, they must be yelling for boobies. Much more plausible.
Ok, last 100m, give it all you got.
Neal is so gonna blast by at any second.
Shoulder glance on the final turn, no Neal.
Don’t slow down, you never know…
FINISHED.
Holy crap I just won my first beer mile.
Holy crap I actually won a race.
Whoa.
Really?
Wait, more importantly, why has this beer not hit me yet?
I think I need another beer.
Beer in the cooler.
Runners at the line. Spongy.
Cross Fit drinks fast. Wins.
