10/18/2006
Frostbite 15K, Raynham, MA
On this the Martin Luther King Jr. national holiday weekend let us reflect on what WE have done lately to give something back to the community in which WE live.
It takes a second, that little voice in YOUR head will tell you where YOU stand on this issue.
Let that be your New Years Resolution...To give your time to a worthy cause within your community.
In an instant you already know what you can do. That's the easy part.
Now the hard part, Act on it.
Here's a couple of my favorites for you amongst us who seek further direction:
Friends of the Blue Hills. Take a look at their website to understand the pressure the reservation is under.
Neponset River Watershed Association. Take a look at their website to understand the pressure the watershed is under.
Appalachian Mountain Club. Take a look at their website to understand the pressure the environment in the northeast is under.
Think Globally, Act Locally. As you can see I'm a bit of an environmentalist. You know your predilection. Make the call.
You have to ask yourself, "Where's Coach G heading with this."
I'm on soapbox here, so bear with me.
Runners from all over New England converged on Raynham to run the Frostbite 15K race. Probably part of their training for the Boston Marathon.
In our own little worlds we're looking to improve ourselves, to advance to the next level.
15 kilometers (or 9.3 miles for you metrically challenged) is not a distance in the depths of winter you go and run on a whim
We left the 5K/10K crowd far behind. Over two hundred runners ran this beast of a course with nasty weather to match.
We're determined people.
People who can focus.
But what probably was happening was that few folks knew that this was a charity run, all the proceeds, and then some, going to the Mary Lou Arruda Scholarship Fund.
"Mary Lou who"?
She was a promising teenager BRUTALLY MURDERED by another human being.
Where is a large part of the scholarship fund come from?
Jim and Mary DuPont's Frostbite 15K.
I want your attention: When you die, you will see St. Peter at the Golden Gates and your going to be at the back of a long long line.
But off to your right, way ahead, at the gates, your going to see an EXPRESS LANE with a few people breezing right through into heaven.
Jim and Mary DuPont will be at the head of that line. St. Peter himself, arms around them both, showing them in.
Swoosh, right through into heaven.
And there you are...still standing in that long long line. But that can change.
Jim and Mary DuPont spend a great amount of their time, energy AND money putting on this race to make sure Mary Lou Arruda is not forgotten.
What have you done lately? What have you done to give back to your community?
If you have a clean conscience, you'll be recognized by St. Pete's pals (Abraham, Martin and John, to name a few) and directed towards the EXPRESS LANE.
If not, just read the Dickens Novel: A Christmas Carol. Or to to follow my bent: Edward Abbey's: the Monkey Wrench Gang to get a few pointers. Or talk to Frank Nelson who is the force behind Christopher's Run. He's another who won't wait in a long line.
Enough said. Onto the race recap.
The day started with a promise to Jim that I would help park cars before the race.
I'm up at 5:06am, with my usual pre-race breakfast of toast, coffee and Advil. Watching the 5am eye-opener newscast on TV, the weather gal, a very pregnant Melissa Bell tells me to go out and scrape the ice off my car and that 1 to 3 inches of snow is on the way. Yesterday it was raining and 60 degrees, today, She's right, it's all ice, 23 degrees, dark and sleeting. Well this is the FROSTBITE 15K.
I print out a map to the race and load up the car. Down Route 24 and for some reason I get of at Route 104 and head the wrong way, half asleep. I meander through Bridgewater, Middleborough before getting onto 495 and off at Route 44 to get back to 104, the right way.
Turning in, I spy Hillary Hewitson standing on the corner to the race, at least I thought it was her, was all bundled up, just a set of eyes peering out. Bill Hewitson later confirms this. I make it with time to spare and find the parking is well staffed, so I lurk around to see who's here. I park next to Gail and Dave Martin, marathoners extraordinaire. Dave supposed to help park to so we hang out. We spy Fred Gladu, fresh off his trouncing of Peter THE RAT Wallan at the Bourne Weary Traveler 4.9 miler. He's hanging out with Fred Zugler of the Rhode Island Road Runner Freds: apparently there were five of them( Gladu, Zugler, Tanner, Rosenblatt and ____) all team members, born in the late 30s-early 40's. That's 1930's -1940's. Fred was THE name back then. Zugler wearing his lucky singlet from the first race he ever ran by the look of it.
I see Peter Dovel and quiz him about the deceased Greater Brockton Striders (GBS)...He tells a wicked story of how the GBS team was improving every year at the old Cape Cod Relay, forerunner to the Fred Brown Lake Winnipesaukee Relay. It happens that Phil Kron was way out ahead (1st place) in the relay and coming up to a turn on the course saw no-one directing which way and made a wrong turn and got lost. Apparently it was his brother Paul was supposed to be there directing but figured he had time to run into Burger King for a snack. Needless to say the GBS team didn't fare that well.
Tom StraQ, Jim Schneider, There's Dick Doran...
and Jack Foley (ask him about when his hip makes a clicking sound when he's doing...a certain coital act). He's my date - No. Don't even make that connection. Don't even go there - to the Colonials Banquet with Dave and Gail (a ménage de' quatro).
The Colonials are out in force, hanging out together, like the Jets in West Side Story, don't wanna mess with them. Marshfield Road Runner, Stevie Lanzilotta is there. The main topic of course is the Grand Pricks Series #6. Will there be an East End 5 miler in Lowell to kick it off?
Looking out the windows of the middle schools cafeteria, its blowing snow.
I try to find time to meditate and mentally prepare for the bruising I'm about to get and John Goldrosen, grand pooh-bah of the Colonials, comes up to me and tells me I got one of the waivers given to the club to run the Boston Marathon.
Whoa!
I've run ten marathons, but never Boston. Now I'm in! I tell non-running types I've run marathons and the first question they ask is, "you run Boston"? "No" I reply and you can see them thinking that the other marathons don't count, your not a marathoner in their eyes unless you've run Boston, You don't measure up. "Those other marathons, they 26 miles"? the non-runner asks.
With that, I'm off thinking on another plane, thinking about Boston and not this race.
Which is a foolhardy thing to do. Stupid really. No fault to you John, I didn't read your January 8th email.
Dupe signals it's time to make our way 1/2 mile to the start. It's a little after 9, cold with freezing rain, sleet, snow mix and the wind blowing from the northwest about twenty miles an hour.
We line up and hats off for a rendition of the Star Bangled Banner by one of the Arruda family.
And we're off. First mile is run in a pack, close together to preserve warmth, I hang with Steve Lanzilotta but move on, I spy Clayton Gardner and fall in behind him, miles two and three for 21 minutes flat. Way too fast. I growl at Clayton, but he picks it up faster. The distance between us grows. Miles four, dead mans curve and cross Route 24 and onto five for 40 flat, still trailing Clayton. At a water stop, I opt not to stop and Clayton watches me go by. It's not long before Clayton passes me again. Mile 6 at 48 minutes and its snowing and blowing, temps in the low twenties and the wind-chill way down near zero. Mile seven the road ices up and all uphill, lonely and windswept. A water stop before eight and again I breeze by Clayton standing at the stop. At mile 8, I'm cold now, 65 minutes. A left turn and we cross Route 24, a couple of runners pass by, I'm slowing, I know Clayton is back there, I muster some speed. A right turn and into a neighborhood, I try to gain ground, "Claytons back there" is my mantra. A right and there's the finish: 76:55 or 8:15 miles. I'm cold, wet and smiling...
The organization of this race was first rate, volunteers covering every intersection, in absurd weather conditions. The post race repast was mouth watering. It was a catered affair, staff dressed a chefs behind steaming pans of a top shelf country breakfast with all the fixin's. All good.
I'm gonna run Boston! Now that is a nut runner: someone who looks forward to running 26 miles.