The thirteenth race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
The Best Road Race Course in New England
This is the thirteenth 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.
Stu's 30K
Clinton, MA, March 4, 2007
I have never seen the inside of the Gym after this race.
This is the fourth time I've run it.
I cross that finish line and it is always right to the car, heat on full blast to thaw out and whimper in pain like a little girl.
No matter what I do to train for this race, I get my ass kicked...no shredded by this course. I'm not afraid to run it but there's a heavy price to pay at the end. I actually like the course, I'm all about the scenery and water views, so this is heaven.
The day starts with Jim Pike at my door. Tommy StraQ is supposed to show up but at the eleven point ninth hour he calls to say he's taking his own chariot. Jim and I take off at 8:30 and take our time getting there. Jims a Milton Townie from birth, even to this day works in town, Pike Insurance: http://www.rhpikeinsurance.com/
We yap it up and in no time we're there kibitzing with the RATs. It all about who's there and who isn't at this stage of the series. A head count quickly reveals Runner X (mom passed away), Jim Boss, Ron Trippett and Rich Paulson, Jerry Morris, SRRs legendary Peter Brook (on the mend) aren't there. All top 35 Runners. Remember, it's all about that butt patch.
The day's weather is a sunny 37 degrees with a cold west wind pounding in at 25 + miles per hour.
We line up and I find Marshfield Road Runners own Steve Lanzillotta, a classically trained piano session player for the Beatles (a rock n' roll combo from the sixties) when Billy Preston wasn't available. He presently gigs the local nursing homes where most Beatles fans now reside.
Steve's nervous, he just ran the Hyannis Half Marathon is 1:59 and hasn't run over two hours in five years. So here he is with me, of all people, ready to turn in an attempt at three hours for 18 point six miles... doable, I tell him. We'll do tens I say. At that point the crowd begins to move, we never hear the start.
The icy wind is in our faces and we hunker down and settle in a groove. We pass the first mile in 9:30 and feel good.
The miles merge into one another.
Steve has run this race many times before, shit, Google his name and the race results are endless. I don't have to tell him anything about running.
We fall in behind some muscular females in glorious spandex and together we declare "that's why I run" The women hear us and giggle. 5, 7, 10 miles, we're dead on 10 minute miles and relaxed.
We trade leads with the women, they pass us going up and we pass them going down. The turn at ten, around the side road through miles eleven, twelve, then we're back on Route 70. Thirteen, fourteen we're side by side.
Into mile fifteen, I spy Judy Ramvos ahead, all time RAT points leader, and without a doubt, THE TOUGHEST RUNNER IN NEW ENGLAND.
So what the hell do I do?
You guessed it, make an ass of myself.
I leave Steve L. and the wimin and chase after Judy thinking she's struggling. I pass and say Hi, she growls at me and I leave her alone and put some distance between us.
Now if your familiar with this stretch of the course you know it's been a steady two mile downhill after 14 relentless high rolling hill miles. Nothing destroys you faster than a prolonged downhill run. I'm running alone and pass 16 miles, pass the dam in Clinton still running downhill.
At Seventeen there is a fairly steep uphill, and the wheels come off, I got nothing, quads lock up, left ankle feels like I sprained it, it's a cold wind knifing through, fingers numb, the sweat on my back starting to chill. I fall in with the other limping wounded continuing to pass and not get passed. In fact nobody passed me since SRRs Steve Pepe, who ran with us for miles 5 through 8 took off to find SRRs Barbara Grandberg. the only other person to pass me since mile 8!
Then at seventeen and a half, Judy passes by silently, never walking a step, just grinds up that hill making easy work passing the beaten runners one by one.
I'm in awe. She in fact speeds up, leaving me to consider my fate. I'll never forget the image of her floating up that hill to the finish.
Awesome.