Bonus Race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
“Congratulations
Your entry to the Ocean Beach
John J. Kelley
Road Race has been accepted”
This is the Bonus Race installment in the twenty one race series. Most running mags who report on these races center around who won and quick times. This blog revolves around the seamy underbelly in each race; the also-rans: the has-beens: the crippled: the infirm: the insane.
These are my people. Read on.
Saturday, August 5, 2006
We’re here for the bonus points. The fastest in the series have all taken the day off, secure in the knowledge that their speed will carry them through the series. Place well in each of the regular series races, the more points/better position you will have. Then there are the rest of us, the velocity challenged. We need every point we can muster just to stay even, hoping the story about the tortoise and the hare will come true for us.
There is no entry fee for this race, just fill out the application and mail it in with a self addressed stamped envelope and they will mail your number. I mailed mine in and also received a very official letter saying my race application had been approved. Was there ever any doubt? How do you get turned down for a free race?
Dave Malliaros turns up lame after self-destructing during the hundred degree heat for the Yankee Homecoming 10 mile race Tuesday night. So I get a hold of Dave and Gail Martin to bum a ride to this race. Dave says be at their place in Sharon by 6am so we can get an early start. Up at 4:40am for toast, eggs (scrambled),strong coffee, and get ready. Out of the house by 5:20 and onto 93 north to the route 138 exit and through Canton to Cob’s Corner. Route 93 is empty so a little 120mph blast to get the juices flowing. Gail and Dave are ready, and down Route 95 we go.
The morning is clear, warm and promises more August heat by race time.
We pull into the parking lot by 7:40 and already there is a smattering of runners gathering. We get out and spot Jeff Gould, Duke Hutchinson, with Hank Gediman and we begin to speculate on who going to be here.
A guy in jeep pulls up and inquires to the group “What’s going on?”
“12 mile road race today” Jeff responds
“When?” the rather rotund driver asks
“Nine”
“Let me go lose a hundred pounds and I’ll be back” The driver says as he pulls away.
Dick Doran and “Bride to be” Maryellen Sawyer arrive. Manny Arruda, Ron Trippett, Peter and Nancy Orni, Don Burke, Dave Tyler, Rick Baccus, Rick Jones, Judy Ramvos, Mike Farley, Larry Morris and Ray Boutotte, check in as the sun and heat build.
Dave and Gail decide it’s a good idea to go out for a little warm up. The conversation on the trip out we talked about adding to the distance of each race to build up “training” miles for the marathons coming up. Good Idea. Why run distance races and train distance separately…Ted Rideout told me this is what he does as well. We go out and Hank and Duke are with us as we go out on the course and cover a mile and turn around, two mile warm up, and it was warm too. Temps hovering around 80+ under strong sunshine.
I was milling around to see what RATS were in attendance, more importantly, who wasn’t, No MacSchneiders, No StraQ, No Jacobson….hmmm. More importantly no Winkley or Casaletto to ask to the "clothing optional" boner - er, bonus race in Fort Erie, Ontario! www.Lilly-Valley.ca Wemen like to be asked. I know one of 'em'll go.
The guns goes off and I’m in with Dick Doran who ran this course in 1:43 in the last series, I know Maryellen is fast, so I hope I can hang in there.
Dick and I pick off RATs one after another, we’re side by side, there goes Farley, Trippett, Arruda, Jones. Together we cruise past 5 miles for 45 on the dot in the simmering heat.
Mile six is long straight climb out, Dick holds his own and I lean on it a little and pick off more suffering runners. Seven is the same and the Hill at eight I get Ramvos, and Boutotte. Mile Nine is no picnic in the heat and I get Larry Morris. Miles ten and eleven are pure agony as the heat and humidity build and my shoes are soaked in sweat. I can actually feel the extra weight with each stride.
The last point six I trade leads with Tammy Jones who is six foot and a lean muscled runner. She gets past and I shuffle up the last incline spent. The turn to the finish I muster a last burst but she’s too far ahead.
I get through the gate and head for the fire hose to cool off in a cold spray. After regaining my senses, I think, I manage a cup of good tasting chowder complete with oyster crackers. The Martins are heading off to cool in ocean so I tag along. On the way I spy a dollar in the sand, bend over to pick it up and I realize I almost have my nose in this women’s bronze tiny weeny bikini’d busty freckled cleavage as she’s tanning on the beach. I offer her the dollar and she reluctantly takes it, eying me warily. Gail and Dave laugh at this. Gail says I should have tucked it in her bra strap! I blush. What?!
The awards were the best. The oddest collection of stuff I’ve ever seen since the long dead excommunicated speaker of the house Charley Flaherty Associates sponsored road race around Fresh Pond in Cambridge. Win in your division and get…Shrubbery! Who’d a thunk! Maryellen gets a pair of Spiderman’s “man of steel” boxer shorts, oughta look good on Dick on their wedding night. That and a little Viagra to put a little steel in those shorts.
Somehow the Martin’s talk Maryellen and Dick into coming with us to a place called Stash’s, a biker bar just down the street to continue the post race party spirit. I say just down the street cause the race organizer tells us to go one way and Dave thinks he knows where it is…well, we tour greater New London before we find it. Dick and Maryellen find the place a lot quicker and while waiting for us, seriously think about starting drinking again. Lunch with toothless aged tattooed bikers who are sipping non-alcoholic Cape Coders was worth the price of admission. Who says you can’t change a leopards spots. Most of these grizzly guys and gals! and their choppers probably have minivans parked in the driveway of their neatly trimmed houses.
No t-shirts this year, and I forgot to bring my used running shoes to donate, the Martins have me covered and drop off four pairs.