The ninth race of the Grand Pricks Series, #6
Monson? or Monsoon?
This is the ninth 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.
Monson Memorial Classic Half Marathon, 13.1 miles
November 12, 2006
The day began with my daughter telling me I had a call last night.
“Oh? Who was it”
“I don’t know, Steve? Tom?”
“He leave a number?”
“Yeah, but I forgot where I wrote it”
Sheesh...Kids
I fumble around trying to find my cell phone.
You see, my cell phone and I have a detached relationship. But we manage to find each other every couple of days. Personally I hate the friggin’ thing and I think the feeling is mutual.
There it is. I dial up the missed call and its CRR's speedster Tom StraQ on the other end.
“Thomas! Whats up”
“I called last night to see if I could catch a ride with you. What time is it?”
“It’s 8:34 and J.G. is going to be here at nine”
“I can’t make it there by nine, I gotta drive out to Monson myself, I gotta run this one to stay in the series”
“Sorry about that, next time just show up, you always got a seat”
J.G. shows and we’re of in the curtain of rain to Exit 8 on the Pike.
Driving out we share a good chuckle over Coach G’s Boylston write-up. People taking the coach seriously…tsk, tsk, tsk.
There were people slacking off out there though.
And you NMC folks have the biggest wild card race slacker of them all, and a points leader!
J.G. and I pull off at exit eight and neither the website or the application have an address. We drive around Palmer thinking it was Monson and no indication of a race. The Magellan Roadmate wasn’t helping us either. We mosey further south and find Monson and a lot of foreboding hills.
“It’s a RAT Race, we’re gonna be running one of these”
As soon as we park, the skies open up. We get soaked just sprinting to the fantastic Memorial Hall. A wonderful granite edifice built in 1884.
Monson was originally part of Brimfield.
What put Monson on the map was a request in 1657 by Richard Fellows to build a tavern on the confluence of the Chicopee Brook and the Chicopee River. The petition of Fellows as follows:
"That the General Court at Boston grant him Two Hundred Acres of upland & Meadow to be laid to George Colton & Benj. Cooley, on Chicopee River, to be Rate free under the following condition: Build a House suitable to entertain travellers, man & beast, with lodging and food, with Beer, Wine, & strong liquors, provided they Build within one Year & Maintain & Entertain travellers for Seven Years."
It was granted Oct. 23, 1657. Fellows established his tavern, but finally abandoned it from fear of the Indians, whose depredations caused him much uneasiness and alarm. He buried some of his farming-tools, which were found many years after in plowing a field by Capt. James Merrick, much injured by rust.
Apparently Monson’s early settlement all had to do with taverns:
"The earliest tavern that existed in Monson was that of Richard Fellows, to which reference has already been made. The next one was kept by Richard Bishop, at least as early as 1762, in a gambrel-roofed house, which stood near where the barn of Cyrus W. Holmes now is. It was probably one of the earliest buildings in the town, and was taken down in 1820. The first district-meeting of Monson was held there. In 1775, Joseph Merrick kept a tavern on the Toby place, half a mile northeast of the centre. William Norcross built a tavern where Green's hotel now is, in 1796. He kept it until 1803 or 1804, when it was kept for upward of forty years by his son Amos. Its more recent history is elsewhere alluded to. Jesse Stebbins kept a tavern in the north part of the town early in the present century."
And Railroads:
"The town has been greatly benefited by the railroads. The Boston and Albany road passes through its northern section. In 1850 the New London and Northern Railroad was built through the centre of the town, north and south, affording excellent shipping facilities to the already important manufacturing enterprises of the place, and opening to some of them markets before out of reach."
A lot of industry:
"Because of the abundant waterpower in these hills, manufacturing was a major
activity. Beginning in the 1600’s, there were mills and factories located in
what became Monson – sawmills, woolen mills, gristmills.
There were also blacksmiths, carriage makers, leather works and cider mills.
There was a mill to extract linseed oil from flax; an industry to gather bog
iron; a lead pipe manufacturer; a turning lathe for rifle barrels; a tannery and
a large granite quarry that supplied building materials not only to Monson but
throughout the northeast (all of the granite buildings and foundations in town
are made of Monson granite). By the late 1800's’there were several hat
factories, sending hats to the New York market.
The mill owners were not only extremely wealthy – at one time, Main Street with
its row of mansion was called “Millionaire’s Mile” – but generous: giving the
town funds for Memorial Hall, the (Lyon Memorial) Library (c.1882), the Soldiers
monument (c.1884), Flynt Fountain monument (c.1882) among others.
In 1804, Monson Academy was established. It set the standard for educational
excellence, and for many years, the Academy was the only high school in Monson."
All taken from “History of the Connecticut Valley in Massachusetts Volume II” by Louis H. Everts, 1879 and Monson’s website
So now you’re all an experts about Monson
On with the race recap:
The Memorial Hall is filled with runners and the buzz is the difficulty of the course.
SRR's Mike Quinn just drove the course and came back, pale as a ghost mumbling:
”the horror, the horror”
“a relentless uphill course for 8 miles and a steep return into oblivion”.
Don Burke a veteran of this course reveals little, when asked, his blank stare and the shaky hand removing the cigarette dangling from his lips, the words tumble from his mouth "this course makes the old Nute Ridge halfer look like a walk in the park"
CRR Stud Mike Ferrari moves in to comfort his shell-shocked friend, admonishes me "why'd you ask him about the course?" that all knowing look he had put a chill down my spine.
I’m standing there shaking my head at this news and I look over to see CRR's Gail Martin casting a smoldering look my way.
“What a dame” I’m thinking and return the look with a wink.
In a rush, CRR's Dave Martin has me in a headlock while MVS's Dave Tyler works me over like a punching bag at the local gym.
Now I know how Peter Orni’s ribs feel like.
So I don’t get my ass kicked like that again:
For the Record “No they weren’t dogging it at Boylston, Those boys gave a sterling effort”.
Brenda Malone was none too pleased seeing her name in the write up too, Charlie Farrington snuck up behind me and got on his hands and knees, then Brenda pushed me, causing me to tumble over a snickering Charlie.
A classic school yard set-up.
I look up to see the offended RATs circling around me menacingly.
A local runner came over to help me up but was pushed away.
I hear the low growling voice of Greater Brockton Strider Pete Buhl say: “Stay out of it, Bub, if you know what’s good for ya".
Charlie leans in, pulls the toothpick from the side of his mouth, and says to me as he runs his finger across his throat: “you write any more small change bunk like that and it’ll be lights out! Understand? Now 23 skidoo!”
I slink off tail between my legs. "Jeepers"!
The runners all move out of the hall into the sheets of rain for a quarter mile walk to the start.
Nobody is saying anything to me as I walk alone to the start, quickly getting soaked.
In the distance I hear the bag-pipers playing what sounds to me like a funeral dirge.
I spy Judy Ramvos and I say "Hi"
With a sidelong glance at me she says "Jerk"
The Course leaves beautiful downtown Monson (elevation 407) running south on Route 32, for 3.6 miles, (Splits for miles 1, 2 and 3: 8:20, 8:48, 8:23)
Left onto Stratford Hollow Road (Elevation 650) past Peck Brothers Road
and left onto Cedar Swamp Road (elevation 758) 1.7 miles (splits for 4, 5: 8:23, 9:14)
around the base of 1500 foot Peck Hill (elevation 833) 2.2 miles (splits for 6, 7: 9:36,9:53)
left onto Peck Brothers Road 1.5 miles (splits for 8: 6:48?? and 9 + 10: 19:11, never saw the nine mile marker), (I know I didn’t enter the twilight zone at 8 so I figure 7,8,9 and 10 I was running near 9 minutes per)
right at Stratford Hollow road (elevation 745),
-within spitting distance to the Connecticut State Line-
to the rail road crossing ½ a mile (elevation 642)
right onto Stratford Road, Route 32 (elevation 651) back 3.6 miles to Monson (elevation 407) (splits for 11, 12 and 13.1: 9:29, 9:49, 10:09 for 1:58:12).
The wheels came off at eleven and I was toast (not dogging it).
Manny Arruda tried to pass me, I almost succeeded in pushing him into oncoming traffic.
Manny's bigger than me and he firmly planted his elbow in my ear, leaving J.G to saunter by, laughing and kick what was left of my sorry ass less than a mile from the finish in true J.G. style.
I wouldn’t expect anything less from my dear friend Jim…sombitch.