The Fourteenth race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
Change in the wind
This is the fourteenth 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.
Tri-Valley Frontrunners Boston Tune-Up 15K
Upton, MA, March 31, 2007
I appreciated the time off since Stu's.
There's this little thing called life that keeps trying to interfere with my running. I won't go into details but it's been a true test of spirit and I ain't about to give up.
I'm having too good a time and the parties just getting started.
Stu's was what? March 4th? At the conclusion of that debacle, I was soooo relieved to survive. Stu's has that way about it.
At this juncture of my life I've been jettisoning the detritus that one accumulates. So that means myriad "for sale" signs, I sold five vehicles, and filled one 15 cubic yard dumpster full of ...house stuff.
Yeah, I could of taken the time to sell some of the stuff or give it away, but it was invigorating to just keep tossing the stuff into the container. I really got into it.
The psychic unloading of all those burdens really lifted my spirits.
Next the house goes...If you know anybody who wants an awesome house in East Milton Square for $590K, the place is in "move in" condition. Check the MLS.
So now I've stripped down to the essentials: Bike...Boat, and a "cage" (truck) for bad weather.
It was the cage that got me to Upton. I've been running the scooter but for some reason I just got in the f-ing thing and drove to Upton.
Hint: cars (and trucks) are America's Crack Cocaine. Yeah, that's right...try going about YOUR day without one! Al Gore is right you know.
I get to Upton and I totally forgot where the race was! Luckily I spot skinny people dressed in Adidas and follow them.
I'm an hour early and go to the pre-registration table and give them my name..."Nope", "Not registered" is the reply.
"What?" I say. "I mailed it in over a month ago".
"Don't see your name" the kindly lady says.
I'm reeling at that point. Do I have any cash? Dressed in my running togs, I go back out to the cage trying to figure out what went wrong. I thought I registered for this and the Seagull 6 at the same time. I thought for sure I did.
I rummage around and find some cash and go to post register.
I'm in line and Tom Derdarian cuts in front of me. I'm already frustrated by the missing registration and now this old fart cuts in.
I say "Hey! What the f*ck!" I grab him in a head-lock and wrestle him to the ground. A couple of people rush in and pull me off him. He's laying on the floor choking, and these people are looking at me like "Don't you know who he is?". "Yeah, I know who the f*ck he is and he won't try that sh*t again, now sign me up!"
The volunteer is in shock and mechanically hands me a number and I turn to a waiting crowd of equally shocked runners. Toms still on the ground being administered to by a few people and I quickly make my way out before someone reacts to what really happened.
I'm hunkered down in the truck quickly changing clothes while a posse of pissed off people scour the parking lot with short pieces of 2X4 and broken jagged Starbuck's travel mugs looking for me. As the crowd passes by I fall in with the angry mob looking for the jerk with a bright orange hat.
Race director Frank Nealon is running around with a bull horn trying to quell the angry mob and begs them to line up for the race. Since the TVFR's changed the start and finish line, angry runners are milling around unsure where the start is. Eventually Frank assures the crowd the location of the start. I fall in unnoticed and wait.
The day is bright, temps in the forties, perfect for racing. The anger of the mob in converted to an adrenalin fueled sprint and the runners take off as if this was a 5K.
I'm in back with my heroes: Steve Lombardo, Sarah Winkley and Tressa Casaletto and we slowly begin the run. I spy SRR's Mike Quinn and give chase. He's tethered to his two kids in an inductive motored stroller. The Direct Current motors spin at 10,000 rpm and Mike can barely hang on. SRR's Steve Pepe and Barbara Grandberg fall in and together we draft off Mike. We're passing people by the bushel and the hills begin to take their toll. By mile four, Mike is in full-on thrust and he blazes out ahead. Miles five, six and seven fly by. They added a couple of hills between miles seven and eight since last race. Runners were complaining there weren't enough.
After the race there was much discussion about gaining much needed RAT points. I mentioned to the lean muscled Barbara Granberg and the vivacious and uninhibited Anita Hadlock, I'd be available to escort them to Florida for an easy four RAT points.
To say this course is hilly would be an understatement. Upton is the quintessential RAT race. I'll be back!
My apologies to the legendary Tom Derdarian and TVFR's Frank Nealon. The above events are a figment of my fertile imagination. Tom did cut in front of me and Frank really was trying to get the runners to line up. I really didn't pre-register for this race. It turns out I registered for Amherst and the Seagull 6 the same day. Again, sorry for the confusion Frank... and Tom; you da man!.