The final race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
Of Ghosts and Freefall
This is the final 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.
Paul Mailman 10 mile Road Race
Montpelier, VT June 23rd, 2007
Every series the ride up to Montpelier my emotions run the gamut.
I lived there in my tumultuous late teenage years.
As one looks back in life, the bitterness and loneliness recede leaving memories cleansed to recall the better benchmarks. This return conjures up these ghosts of the past, and a chill runs up my spine.
Trepidation makes me want to ride up alone on my scooter to face them. CRR's John Goldrosen, good friends Dave Malliaros and Tommy StraQ were set to ride up together with me. Then as usual Tommy changes his plan and rides up with the MacSchneiders to White River Junction where he has a deal on hotel rooms for us.
I watch the weather and it is clear I'll be driving into some rain. This didn't help my resolve in dealing with the ghosts of my past lurking for me in Montpelier.
Heading north into the rain soaked clouds, the sun shown down intensely pushing the temps into the seventies. At the Route 93 - 89 split I make my customary stop at the Bow Mobil station for a break and some beef jerky.
Pressing on it alternates light rain, dark gloom and bright sunshine as the temps fall into the mid fifties. It was like the weather was mirroring my emotions
The plan was to stop at White River Junction and meet up at the Hotel with the crew but in the light rain I continue on to face my past life some 30 plus years ago.
Driving up I spy a new Infinity with Mass. Vanity Pates "RUNMW". I know a lot of RATs are driving up and I wonder who this is. We trade leads and it passes the time. I look for other runners put don't see any more.
It is hard to describe my feelings other than I've driven Interstate 89 literally hundreds of times but only once or twice in the last five years. It was that familiarity yet uncertainty that lent to the eerie feeling I was experiencing. It's raining hard now and I make the decision to find lodging closer to the race since White River is close to an hour away. The thought of driving back from Montpelier and then driving up again sealed the deal.
I pull off at Berlin knowing there is two hotels on the hill between Barrie and Montpelier. Comfort Inn is full up and so is the next hotel down. As I prepare to leave the parking lot of the second hotel, I see SRR's Peter Brook walking out and I stop and walk over to say Hi. He tells me that he got the last room and it's a mess with the heater/AC unit in pieces on the floor and the room is right across from the front desk. I tell him that this is his lucky day cause I'm gonna stay with him in that room cause I'm looking for a place too. Pete says sure.
"You don't fart or burp a lot do you?" He asks seriously.
He laughs cause he was just at the Comfort Inn looking for a room or possibly one to share and met GBS's Peter Buhl walking in and was not offered the option to cohabit.
Pete's got plans so I'm off to drive into Montpelier alone with a full two hours to kill before meeting up with other RATs for dinner at Julio's. I gotta tell ya, there was a lot of things in the area that have changed over the years but the ghosts kept popping up everywhere I went. Like some dark secret repressed over the years slowly rearing it's ugly head.
If you get the impression by now that my teenage years here we're less than ideal, you'd be right. A good portion of my time here was riding around endlessly in cars, sometimes my parents car sometimes someone else's with other middleclass white kids doing what most kids in the seventies did, See the movie Dazed and Confused. Mostly I filled my time playing solitaire in front of the TV watching the Watergate hearings back in the summer of '73.
While walking around "downstreet" as we called it then in Montpelier I spy the RAT Peter Wallan and am greatly relieved. Soon other RATs group and we make our way to the Capitol Steps to meet up with any more RATs before going to Julios. The quorum was Rick Jones, Judy Ramvos, CRR's Dave and Gail Martin, LSR's Nancy MacDonald, Jim Schneider they're daughter Tessa, SRR's Fred Bollen, MRR's Marianne Withington and her friend Patty, The RAT, and of course Peter Buhl.
As we sit down Nancy shows me a text message from Tom that he, Dave and John are staying in White River Junction. Note to self, gotta get into this texting thing. Drinks are ordered and Mike Butler shows up and we make room for him.
Afterwards we break up some finding ice cream and myself, Mike, Patty and Marianne find McGullicuddy's Pub. We settle in and (paragraph deleted). We also watch the Red Sox beat the Padres 2-1 in San Diego. Thirsty Irish's John McGourty shows up to join in.
Later that morning I make my way to the race a little out of sorts, kinda questioning my perception of reality.
It has been a long series and this is the last race. For over a year this series has more or less defined my life (pathetic huh?) and now it's over.
There are many questions answered and more needing answers.
We line up and I can't clear the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. The race starts and I am not really there.
I guess I start running and fall in with everyone else. A mile into it (8:45) I robotically pick off runners.
Mile two (8:55) a horse and it's foal get loose and join in the race.
Mile three (8:55) I question everything, mind too cluttered, thoughts crashing into each other.
Uphill Mile four (9:28) I'm frustrated at my lack of mental control.
Mile five (8:47) I look around at all the beauty this day brings yet it doesn't register.
Mile 6 (7:50) I abandon my thoughts and finally run like I'm capable of.
Mile 7 (8:58) My thoughts return and I'm back battling reality.
Mile 8 (9:49) I give up and start walking, my mind now totally out of control, thoughts careening wildly into one another in an uncontrolled chain reaction. Judy Romvos passes me, Marianne passes me, and it's finally Jim Schneider who comes along and I literally grab onto him in attempt to pull myself free from the maelstrom going on in my head.
Mile 9 (8:45) Jimmy and I battle on trading leads.
Mile 10 (8:49) he leaves me in the dust and I can't catch Judy. 89:10
Great personal tragedy rips the fabric of ones perception of realty.
We are at the stage in life where we pride ourselves in the control we have over our own destinies. We all have achieved a level of comfort that gives us happiness.
When tragedy strikes, all this confidence, control, happiness even, is lost. This tragedy can take many forms: Loss of a loved one, Loss of a marriage, partnership or friendship. Serious illness, Injury. A financial loss, or even the loss of the right to drive.
I think we have all been there, faced with great tragedy and numbness it brings. We founder and freefall as if violently thrown from an airplane in flight or a stumbling fall off a parapice from some great height.
In this fall we care not our fate. There is a reluctance to grab onto something that will break the fall.
What's the point of going any further?
But there is a net. This net catches you, envelopes you, and nurtures you back to reality.
This net is called friendship.
Friends know your spiraling out of control. You might not know it but people are looking out for you, at the ready to help.
Inwardly you closed all communication, sealed yourself off, shut all the windows, locked all the doors.
Yet deep down you know the sun will rise tomorrow and you'll face another day. At this time you'll recognize their faces, and open the door to let them in.
Before a personal tragedy you felt confident in the decisions you made, yet now receptive to others advice. This is a period of vulnerability, one must be careful of advice given. Friends try to do what they feel is right for you, but it might not be where you want to go. Friends mean well, they think they have you're best interests looked out for. They feel the need to protect you, they want to keep you from harm. They can be heavy handed in influencing the decisions you make by instilling their values on you. In many cases they are right and you let them direct you're life. But friends advice is like a buffet, you should pick what feels the best for you
At some point, you have to climb out of this net, brush yourself off, and say,
Hey! I'm OK.
They might feel wounded that your pushing back, resisting their advice.
Assure them that it is OK. You have your footing and can take back control of your life.