Month: May 2011

When will it happen?

Next May — if you ask me today,

In a couple years — if you ask me tomorrow,

Never — if you ask me right after finishing an MMT training run (no way in bloody hell I’m gonna do that run x 4!),

Definitely Next May — if you ask me after reading Jack Andrish’s When did it happen?

 

So, the way I see it:

Karl Meltzer winning MMT: Not a surprise.

Neal Gorman finishing a solid 2nd: Not a suprise.

Eva Pastalkova breaking the record: Bloody impressive, but knowing Eva not really a surprise — I mean, we all knew what she could do with a pack free of canines.

Now….

Martha Nelson doing stuff at aid stations besides passing out in the runners’ chairs and generally getting in the way (photographic evidence forthcoming): A lot of people are gonna lose $$ on that one.

 

 

May 11, 2011 – The Fogarty Ultra Continent (FUCers II, definitely not to be confused with the Frisco Ultra Contingent (FUCers I), which, as far as we know, has never completed the formidable 2.8 mile loop around the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, MD) had a strong showing at the 4th Annual NIH Take a Hike Day, taking home the 3rd place trophy for participation by a ‘small’ NIH Institute/Center (IC).

But FUCer success did not come easy: it was a long, grueling road of preparation.  Following the NIH Health’s Angels Running Club’s Halo Chase 5k on April 22nd, we knew we had our work cut out for ourselves.  Tany had a particularly rough day, getting beat by a guy with one leg and on crutches, and then requiring 4 rabies shots for her wildlife encounter with a baby raccoon.

The Neal Gorman workout plan outlined in Runner’s World seemed like the sure-fire way to bring the FUCers up to speed.  But Martha had another idea for a training plan…..

Indeed, the Puerto Rican waters proved to be excellent training grounds for the 4-chick subset of the FUCers II known as the Puerto-rican Ultra Society (PUSsies).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For some altitude and hills, we found excellent training grounds in El Yunque rainforest, where our Ranger guide Cynthia whipped the PUSsies into shape.  However, Cynthia’s propensity to investigate every pile of leaf litter for snails and anoles resulted in what was billed as a 1km nature trail taking the PUSsies 2 hours to complete.  Although we learned an awful lot about rainforest ecology and even saved an anole from a twig collar it had been fatally ensnared in, I’m afraid a 0.5 km/hr pace posed a bit of a training setback.

The other minor set-back occurred while I was running on the road that led to the network of beautiful trails overlooking the Atlantic Ocean on one side and Caribbean Sea on the other.  A woman pulled over in her car, rolled down her window, and started shrieking at me ‘Muy Peligroso!’  and insisting that I get in the car with her.  It was a narrow twisty road with little shoulder, so I figured she was objecting to the dangers of my getting hit, but she explained to me that there was a ‘crazy man’ lurking about.  It was broad daylight, I wasn’t wearing headphones, I was running at a good clip — all the criteria for what I consider safe solo running. I had no idea what ‘crazy man’ meant — could be anything from the town drunk to a serial rapist/murderer — but I realized I would mope for the rest of the trip if I didn’t return to the trails.  So the next morning I tucked my hair into a ball cap and wore a men’s size large shirt Sean had given me, and convinced that I could possibly be mistaken for Matt Woods from afar, I put on my ‘don’t fuck with me — I’m far more trouble than I’m worth’ face and headed out, playing a nerve-wracking game of Lizard or Crazy Man? with every rustle from the brush.  I was left with this overwhelming indignation that Being A Female Runner Sucks, that it’s so terribly unfair that I can’t run or hike or travel freely, and was having fantasies about cutting off all my hair and buying a rifle.  But just as I started to get really fired up about it, the bartender made me another Don Q and all was well.

 

Rather than figuring out how to embed videos on this here blog thingy, here is a link to the 1st Annual WUS Beer Mile video.  Enjoy!

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.’

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.

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.

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.

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 4^th (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).

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.