Chuck S, Mike P, B-ham Barbara, and the Danimal: compliments
Saturday with the middle 18 of Chuckanut- just a couple of crazy kids.
Our hearts raced as we ran at paces almost unfathomable to the plebian runner. Sweat in our eyes, blood on our legs, lumps in our throat, quenched with thirst and a desire to see what we were truly capable of. Reality was a blur as we ascended and descended some of the Pacific North West’s most intense, and grueling terrain; terrain that very few dare to challenge. We pushed harder than we had in our entire lives. We laughed, we cried, we saw things that we knew we could never explain to anyone who wasn’t there. Our run lasted 8 nights and 9 days. At the end we were not friends… we were not enemies… we just were. This was the middle 18 of the Chuckanut 50K course.
[needle scratching off a record]
Ok perhaps that was a tiny embellishment. Here’s another version. You chose which to believe. I recommend the former.
It was a sunny, fresh and crisp mid-morning (10am) when the 4 of us met at our beloved local running store in downtown Fairhaven. I (Barbara) had invited 5 other runners, but none could make it. All had various ‘reasons’, but deep down I knew that the reputation of our Wed runs as being extremely challenging deterred a few runners from “trusting” us to not go overboard in intensity this fine Saturday morning. Dan, Chuck and I are from the regular Wed crew, but we were delighted to be joined by Mike P from Langley, who had joined us during the Winter for a run on Galbraith Mt. organized by Dan. Parenthetically, Mike mispronounces “Galbraith” but I notice that no one has ever corrected him. I hereby request that no one ever does. I for one get a cheap thrill from hearing other people sound silly.
Perhaps I should not target Mike for misstating anything, for due to Chuck’s plan for a mile and a half warm up (which sucked butt on the way back- excuse my advanced use of the English language), the middle 18 we invited Mike on, became middle 21. Mike was questioning America’s ability, or lack thereof, to properly teach mathematics to its citizens. We questioned Canada’s collective flat-out laziness to run an extra flat easy 3 miles.
Much to my delight, we took the middle eightee…ehem…twenty one miles quite relaxed and at an easy pace. This may sound like an oxymoron to non-distance runners, but I considered it to be a weekend fun-run. We enjoyed snips of sunshine all day, and crisp but shorts-friendly temperatures, as well as some 3 days old beautiful snow at places of higher elevation. I had never run the entire course collectively, and Mike had never tasted the sweet goldmine that is the Chuckanut Mt. trails. Dan and Chuck, our seasoned Chuckanut 50K-ers (raced over 4 times each) were our official guides. Chuck rightfully declared he could run the course in his sleep. Knowing Chuck, he probably has a time or two.
The day went off without a hitch, aside from me falling flat on my face in the mud…no joke. The only one to see this was Dan, who very graciously did not laugh when I looked up at him yelling, “Don’t look at me! Move on! Let me suffer alone!”
We spent about 5 hours taking it easy, power walking on steep hills, having conversations that came close to being titled: ‘The Marrieds against the Singles’, taking rests where we all huddled around Dan’s brownies and Chuck Sports blocks, and getting to know each other better.
My personality profiling for the day goes as follows: Mike P was largely hilarious in a sarcastic edgy sort of way (“so Barbara, what’s the deal with you and Dan?”), while somehow maintaining that Canadian charm. We understood most of what he was attempting to communicate, but were a bit lost when he would say things like “ey?” and mispronounce words like “about” and “Galbraith”.
Daniel was his usual over-excited to run in the snow self. During our first hydration- calorie intake break, as we began to unwrap bland cardboard tasting power bars and little crappy Gu pouches, show off Dan busts out with two brownies the size of his head. Jeesh! At least he shared. I have always seen Dan (and Morris) as an over all caretaker and overseer of all of our runs. He has everything a human being would ever need on a run in his pack, and keeps a watchful eye to make sure the pace is appropriate for all and that everyone is safe, sound and happy. This unfortunately goes largely unrecognized, but is very appreciated.
Chuck S was, and always is, our most haphazard runner. Full speed down rocky technical terrain, full 3 miles periods of all out spiriting, fogged glasses and bloodied legs (somehow even on wide fire-road terrain), this is a man who wants to run and puts little in his way to be able to so. He was jokie all day, never broke a sweat or felt his pulse rise, and probably could have taken a 20-mile cool-down at the end of it all. It boggles me that a runner like him could make the joke “OK- Here is where I suck in my gut” while he is running by while I take a photo. As for me, I will sum me up as I suppose the guys would: I spent the day pretending to be offended about jokes made at my expense, being overly defensive and smart-ass while knowing all the while that all they are looking for is to get this rise out of me. I felt great during the run, but really enjoyed (as I sometimes do) lagging way behind for “B-time”. I hoped for an easy run, and I felt that it really was.
In conclusion, Saturday’s run was great. The running alone counts for something, but ultimately, it is the people that I run with that make the experience worthwhile and memorable. I just started to run long-distance in the last 4 months, and feel that if my running partners were taken away from the equation, than I would not do it. Saturday was a perfect example of great personalities joining to do what we all love. Killer company- killer run. Did I mention that the last 1.5 miles sucked butt? Way to sprint it Mike… show off ey?
Saturday with the middle 18 of Chuckanut- just a couple of crazy kids.
Our hearts raced as we ran at paces almost unfathomable to the plebian runner. Sweat in our eyes, blood on our legs, lumps in our throat, quenched with thirst and a desire to see what we were truly capable of. Reality was a blur as we ascended and descended some of the Pacific North West’s most intense, and grueling terrain; terrain that very few dare to challenge. We pushed harder than we had in our entire lives. We laughed, we cried, we saw things that we knew we could never explain to anyone who wasn’t there. Our run lasted 8 nights and 9 days. At the end we were not friends… we were not enemies… we just were. This was the middle 18 of the Chuckanut 50K course.
[needle scratching off a record]
Ok perhaps that was a tiny embellishment. Here’s another version. You chose which to believe. I recommend the former.
It was a sunny, fresh and crisp mid-morning (10am) when the 4 of us met at our beloved local running store in downtown Fairhaven. I (Barbara) had invited 5 other runners, but none could make it. All had various ‘reasons’, but deep down I knew that the reputation of our Wed runs as being extremely challenging deterred a few runners from “trusting” us to not go overboard in intensity this fine Saturday morning. Dan, Chuck and I are from the regular Wed crew, but we were delighted to be joined by Mike P from Langley, who had joined us during the Winter for a run on Galbraith Mt. organized by Dan. Parenthetically, Mike mispronounces “Galbraith” but I notice that no one has ever corrected him. I hereby request that no one ever does. I for one get a cheap thrill from hearing other people sound silly.
Perhaps I should not target Mike for misstating anything, for due to Chuck’s plan for a mile and a half warm up (which sucked butt on the way back- excuse my advanced use of the English language), the middle 18 we invited Mike on, became middle 21. Mike was questioning America’s ability, or lack thereof, to properly teach mathematics to its citizens. We questioned Canada’s collective flat-out laziness to run an extra flat easy 3 miles.
Much to my delight, we took the middle eightee…ehem…twenty one miles quite relaxed and at an easy pace. This may sound like an oxymoron to non-distance runners, but I considered it to be a weekend fun-run. We enjoyed snips of sunshine all day, and crisp but shorts-friendly temperatures, as well as some 3 days old beautiful snow at places of higher elevation. I had never run the entire course collectively, and Mike had never tasted the sweet goldmine that is the Chuckanut Mt. trails. Dan and Chuck, our seasoned Chuckanut 50K-ers (raced over 4 times each) were our official guides. Chuck rightfully declared he could run the course in his sleep. Knowing Chuck, he probably has a time or two.
The day went off without a hitch, aside from me falling flat on my face in the mud…no joke. The only one to see this was Dan, who very graciously did not laugh when I looked up at him yelling, “Don’t look at me! Move on! Let me suffer alone!”
We spent about 5 hours taking it easy, power walking on steep hills, having conversations that came close to being titled: ‘The Marrieds against the Singles’, taking rests where we all huddled around Dan’s brownies and Chuck Sports blocks, and getting to know each other better.
My personality profiling for the day goes as follows: Mike P was largely hilarious in a sarcastic edgy sort of way (“so Barbara, what’s the deal with you and Dan?”), while somehow maintaining that Canadian charm. We understood most of what he was attempting to communicate, but were a bit lost when he would say things like “ey?” and mispronounce words like “about” and “Galbraith”.
Daniel was his usual over-excited to run in the snow self. During our first hydration- calorie intake break, as we began to unwrap bland cardboard tasting power bars and little crappy Gu pouches, show off Dan busts out with two brownies the size of his head. Jeesh! At least he shared. I have always seen Dan (and Morris) as an over all caretaker and overseer of all of our runs. He has everything a human being would ever need on a run in his pack, and keeps a watchful eye to make sure the pace is appropriate for all and that everyone is safe, sound and happy. This unfortunately goes largely unrecognized, but is very appreciated.
Chuck S was, and always is, our most haphazard runner. Full speed down rocky technical terrain, full 3 miles periods of all out spiriting, fogged glasses and bloodied legs (somehow even on wide fire-road terrain), this is a man who wants to run and puts little in his way to be able to so. He was jokie all day, never broke a sweat or felt his pulse rise, and probably could have taken a 20-mile cool-down at the end of it all. It boggles me that a runner like him could make the joke “OK- Here is where I suck in my gut” while he is running by while I take a photo. As for me, I will sum me up as I suppose the guys would: I spent the day pretending to be offended about jokes made at my expense, being overly defensive and smart-ass while knowing all the while that all they are looking for is to get this rise out of me. I felt great during the run, but really enjoyed (as I sometimes do) lagging way behind for “B-time”. I hoped for an easy run, and I felt that it really was.
In conclusion, Saturday’s run was great. The running alone counts for something, but ultimately, it is the people that I run with that make the experience worthwhile and memorable. I just started to run long-distance in the last 4 months, and feel that if my running partners were taken away from the equation, than I would not do it. Saturday was a perfect example of great personalities joining to do what we all love. Killer company- killer run. Did I mention that the last 1.5 miles sucked butt? Way to sprint it Mike… show off ey?
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