Bees produce honey; Wasps are assholes
If fiddling with your GPS watch at the start of a race isn’t quite your thing, I would suggest the full excitement of being stung by a wasp! It’s going to be the next health craze. ADRENALINE! DIRECT SHOT OF FOCUS! REDUCES STRESS!
(Note: The author is not actually suggesting that being stung by a wasp will be of any medical value. However, if you feel like your feet have meridians, perhaps Wasp Therapy may be for you)
What I would recommend, wholeheartedly, and with no hesitation, is you get yourself to Sedalia around the middle of October and run the Indian Creek 50 or so K.
But why, I hear you asking, oh intrepid reader, “Why should I sign up for a race that is somehow longer than I can drive a car for.”, Post race, Nate Swanberg(all around great guy) noted that someone had said to him they couldn’t imagine running the distance we were discussing walking to eat a pile of food, they couldn’t even drive it.
I’ll let that ruminate for a moment.
So sometime in late September, I was convinced, or, more accurately lightly suggested, by One Emily Fried that this would be a good race to run. Actually, I think it was mentioned in passing, She also helped set up a carpool to and from said event. A real gem that one.
Still thinking about how you can’t drive a car a distance a human can run? Me too.
Immediately upon signing up for this type of… box-social?Hootenanny? Let’s say race though I only compete with myself(Because you know, everyone else is kicking my ass((The Author doesn’t wish to convey a lack of competitive or fighting spirit or low morale for that matter, as will be illuminated shortly, all had a great day.))) I realized I had already spent the entire summer hardening my will by grinding out summit after stifling, calf burning summit of Mt. Sanitas, along with the kind of long runs I had only read about a year previous.
At this point, I would like to finalize that you can indeed drive a car farther than a human can run, and that you won’t have the air sucked out of your lungs if you travel faster than the speed of a galloping horse.
You can also learn more about the amusing history behind this strange sport I participate in at the following link
People seriously thought watching dudes walk for six straight days was the greatest thing since the butter churn
So natch, long and short of it is. You want to run in the mountains, you train in the mountains, having an obsession with the mountain a fifteen-minute bike ride from your house doesn’t hurt either. But you know those vistas… They don’t run themselves, so even though they are a staggering thirty minutes from you, make a point to run…
(At this point the author generally means a vigorous hike((Actually, no I don’t))as the author has no proof of “running every…((Strava.)) Oh. Carry on)
…You make a point to run up those as well. Also, stop and take pictures. Later defame those who take lots of selfies, and post their adventures on Instagram; Maintaining your own Instagram hashtag free of course, and adding witty sardonic titles to everything. Or potentially just make vague allusions to people not being there.
Refer to surf culture liberally. Buy new shoes. Discuss shoes as a primary means of conversation with other shoes. This can be a great icebreaker.
“I heard [insert brand here] is really uncomfortable and that [sponsored athlete here] is really sour on them at this point, in fact, I saw him wearing [Non-sponsored brand of footwear] on [insert trail, Consider scratching beard].”
These conversations almost write themselves. When you’re not mad libbing through shoe conversations, meet people you genuinely admire and don’t genuflect. In fact, as they say in dazed and confused. Play it cool.
This all kind of ties back to being stung by a wasp no longer being a big deal, and being the net low point of a long day.
What ends up being relevant, in both reference to the title, and the actual content of this post is as follows. You play it cool, shout out to David Wooderson, and just ramble and roll through the woods, It turns out that the Indian Creek trail system is pretty, really pretty, like PTOAT(Prettiest trail of all time), Not only that, in an unknown nod to running in Alaska, there is a steep section of dirt road that doesn’t really lead anywhere if you aren’t running this course. Curious. How did Mt. Riley road end up within view site of Red Rocks and Denver?
Now at this point, things were getting dreamlike, miles were rolling by, I was rolling by, and suddenly your half way(ish, kinda/sorta) done? My suspicions were aroused. As the kind of runner who knows that some kind of epic blowup or poor decision is more likely than not, I made doubly sure that I had all of the things I’m more than a little prone to forgetting, difficult things, like let us say water, for instance, or food, Maybe I’m still wearing my bike helmet half up the first climb. Those types of things.
For the record, I was not wearing a bike helmet.
Instead I, in defiance of my own self-foot-shooting, continued to succeed and have one of those rare days where you enjoy fall colors in the foliage, climb a jaunty several thousand feet, reference Ahab, David Foster Wallace, and Gravity’s Rainbow, and run 34 miles and some extra change, and try to keep my spirits and those around me high with both Dad jokes, bad puns, and a linguistic burner of a joke that is so funny, no one, is allowed to laugh
Person One: How is the mood out there.
Person Two: I’m not sure, it’s subjunctive.
I’ll give you a moment to laugh at the genius there.
Or rather. Keep reading. Serious.
So sometimes it gets hot in canyons, There is a race that is pretty famous, really long(Still not further than you can drive a car.), and features hot canyons. When the race director mentioned it would be hot in the sun. Boy oh Boy, I paid attention. This led to some rather casual hiking in said canyon, and downing a lot of water, and rice crispy treats at the last aid station. And then bulldoze it home.
By the way, Thanks again to everyone who volunteered, that’s not snarky bullshit, I really appreciated you guys humping water up that hill, and having rice crispy treats. And thanks to Sherpa John for putting on such a great race. Val for driving, Emily for allowing me to carpool. Ah, I’m sure I’m forgetting something else important here.
And since you basically just scrolled to see what gear I used, here’s something better anyways.