Music 2017...

Effort #26, True Love Will Find You In the End...

An old Daniel Johnston tune, done quickly.

 

Wuzzam talked me into running with him;  I was planning on going to Hawley alone just to see what my fitness level was, and see how I would hold up after the bout with Lyme.  As a bonus, Wuzzam promised to bring his son along....  a son who had never run over 7 or 8 miles before.

We took a really nice tour of Hawley, right around 13-miles as counted by the gps.  I felt pretty darn good throughout, and it would have been hard not too with temps being dry and only in the mid 60's for the duration.  An excellent day by all accounts.

A favorite of ours, the Hawley Kiln

Bert Wilson Gould Cellar Hole on Moody Spring Road

Stone Shelter at Moody Spring

Wuzzam sitting opposite Moody Spring

Wuzzam at Moody Spring

Camp Rock

From inside out, at the Kiln

Looking up from within the Kiln

Also on this day, I've had success completing marathons.  The first was in 2008 and the second was a year later in 2009.

In 2008, Tippi and finished Metacomet II, which began at Phelps Road in Suffield, and covered north to Route 57 and south to Route 20.  Running time of 5:32:00.  This was my 37th and Tippi's 13th completed marathon.

In 2009, Wuzzam joined Tippi and I at Tunxis II (South), which meant we ran from Route 219 to Satan's Kingdom, and also north to Roberts Brook I believe.  Our time was 6:04:44.  This was my 42nd and Tippi's 15th marathon.

I ended my 21-day program of doxy for Lyme Disease yesterday, and I also had spent a week not doing much but sitting in a classroom and in a car.  I did jog through 3-miles along Main Street last night, but I can't say that gave me much indication of how I was feeling.

It was such a wonderful day today, low to mid seventy degrees with zero humidity.  Decided upon McLean, with a goal of running consistently "quick" considering I haven't really run hard at all for the past 3-weeks.

I had minor soreness, or stiffness, in my legs, but I made it through 5.5-miles in a 5.7 mph average.  I certainly was pleased with this, and it gives me some confidence going forward.

Drove back from Plymouth to Connecticut, and took a short 3-mile run along Main Street in the dark of night.  The learning attained at Plymouth (SCADA) was really valuable, and I was surrounded by a nice group of young people for the duration.  There is much to be said about trying to stay current, and hanging around with younger generations.

It was on this day in 2002 that I participated in a Mt Toby Trail Race.  I don't have a distinct memory of it, but there are a few photographs showing me on the course...

Still in Plymouth, and it's going really well. 

Going back a ways, on this day in 2002 we visited the Cummington Fair and saw that my folks Pumpkin display took a blue ribbon!

SCADA Training is going well, but no running or sight-seeing.  For this trip, it's Eat, Learn, and Sleep.

I'll be in Plymouth all week, learning something new for work.  I am not a great "being away from home" person, so I'll just focus on the SCADA Training throughout the day, and dinner with DL in the evening. 

While I was in class today, DL ventured out on a whale watch, that was very rewarding!

Travel day to Plymouth, Massachusetts for some work training.  The eclipse happened just as we arrived at our destination.  No photos of my own, but I saw one online at Sky and Telescope that reminded me of what we saw....

Beautiful clear day, low 70's and breezy.  Especially fantastic to be up on the Metacomet Ridge, which was surprisingly not busy today.

Still feeling about the same as yesterday, roughly 60% of what I hope for.  It was a bit of a struggle, but the enjoyment of being in the fresh air helped me get through the 5.8-mile round trip to the Notch and back.

Approaching Copper/Peak Mountain from the south

Looking south from Copper/Peak towards Penwood & Hueblin

At the "Spine" about 1.75-miles out from Rt 20

Manitook Mountain is visible in the center of the picture

This tree and rock have shared space for a very long time

I drove out to Penwood to see how I would react to some minor hills.  It was a good 5.5-mile run, and I felt as though I am at about 50% - 60% of normal fitness during this lyme disease flare up.

The run was tough but enjoyable;  what was really pretty neat was I was able to help a few folks out.

• I gave an unopened bottle of gatorade to a group of three human - one dog, who were at the half-way point of their hike, and were out of water with 3-miles to go.  It was a warm humid mid-morning. 

• Once I completed my loop, I was asked by a biker for use my cell-phone to call his lost cycling buddy, who was somewhere within Penwood but not where he was supposed to be.  Turns out the missing person was about a mile and a quarter away at Lake Louise, while we were at Wintonbury Road.

Open Ledge along Yellow Trail west of the New England Trail (aka Metacomet)

The Savoy 20-Miler was organized each year in August, from 1998 thru 2007.  From 2008 thru 2014, the course changed to varying distances and stayed to a more northern route.  

I completed the 20-miler each year from 1992 to 2007.  It was, and always will be, my favorite trail race event.  Not necessarily my favorite trail, or race, but event.  You had to be there to understand.

The story about Savoy posted on August 14th is mostly true... 

A map of the old Savoy Twenty-Miler, held annually from 1988 to 2007

I managed another late night (7:30 p.m.) 3-mile run along Main Street today.  Again, nothing special, but it does beat doing nothing. 

I managed a late night (8:00 p.m.) 3-mile run along Main Street today.  Nothing special, but it did feel good to do it.

On this day in 2014, Wuzzam and I ran the Mahican Mohawk Marathon in 6:43:30.  We began and ended at Mohawk Trail State Forest in Charlemont, along the bank of the Cold River.  Our turn-around or midpoint was roughly at North Pond at Savoy Mountain State Forest in Savoy / Florida.

This was my 51st completed marathon.  Map of our route is included below

Running through Stafford Meadow

 

Red Pine Plantation, set in 1930's..

Up through the Red Pine.

Wuzzam at the first crossing of the Cold River.

Bog Pond, a long-time favorite area of ours..

Burnett Homestead Cemetery in Florida..

Second crossing of the Cold River.

Twenty Two-Years ago this month...

The Sixth Sneakered Sheik's Sixth Sheepdog's Sick

My introduction to the mystical world of Sneakered Trolls scurrying through the forest primordial began in New London at this year’s John Kelly Classic Road Race, my first ever.  (I mean first one foot in front of the other as quick as you can....  Ever.)

A mysterious Russian woman with legs up to my navel softly tapped me on the shoulder and asked me why I sprinted across the suburban lawns and hedges lining the route, treating the pavement like the Fool’s turf that it is.  I offered to reveal my darkest and deepest secrets if she’d give me her phone number.  “Go ahead, Mariana...  Give him OUR phone number,” intoned this Dolph-looking dude as he blotted out a good percent of the sun.  Gone in a flash was Vicente Ferrari Rico Suave and in his place stood the bumbling fumbling hillbilly with bad hair that I am.

I grinned like a madman and started croaking some lines to “Johnny Be Good.”  You know the one.  “Way down in Louisiana cross from New Orleans hum hum hum...  something among the evergreens.”  “Ah, I see, so you’re a boy of the forest,” purred Mariana.  I nodded my head like the Cocker Spaniel I am.  “Good then.  Perhaps you will come to Savoy, No?”  I turned to saltwater taffy watching her lips form the words.

“Savoy.... heh, heh, heh,” Olaf rumbled.  “Dah.  Savoy.”  His beard parted into a train tunnel and I peered in, hoping to find Dante himself moonlighting on Olaf’s molars with a miner’s light.  “It’s a Trail Run in Massachusetts.  Come.... if you like.”  And with that she and her 6’8” storm cloud were gone.

I looked up to see that I was standing in one of those post race Runner’s showers, water splashing me in the face.  Was this what they call Runner’s high?  But then I looked down.  Printed on the black tar in Mariana’s Pink Lip Gloss was the word SAVOY.  Water beaded up around it.  My destiny was sealed.  Savoy it would be.

So naturally I spend the next four days on the damn phone trying to find out where the hell Savoy is.  It seems nobody had ever heard of the place.  In fact, when I finally managed to locate a state park named Savoy, (I dialed information for Deliverance) and I asked Ranger Rick specifics about the coming Trail run, he chuckled and offered to give me the number of the Western Massachusetts's Psychiatric Counseling Hotline.  Click.  Oh boy.  Olaf was behind all this.

Mariana.  Maybe I could save her, rescue her.  She couldn’t possibly be happy with Bison Man.  I spent the night watching a Rudolph Valentino silent, chewing Ginseng Root and tying my hair in a bundle for the long voyage to the Northern land.

The next morning.  Savoy at last!!  Wet dew blanketed the red fur of my trusty bud and protector, Mr. Bear as he panted anxiously in the grass awaiting the starter’s gun.  Hopeful runners crossed their legs and waited in line for the bathroom, wishing they hadn’t had that mornings second cup of coffee.  But Mariana.  Where was Mariana?  How could I, why would I possibly run 20 kilometers if not to pursue a woman?  This was sheer insanity.  I read a poster above the bathroom as a loud rapping flatulent chorus boomed from the vent holes above the state park Bathroom stalls.

“Welcome to the Savoy 20 MILE Trail Race!!!”  20 Miles.....  20 miles.  I thought this was 20 kilometers...  20 miles...  HOLY SHIT!!!

“You got that right, bub.  Ahhh.” exhaled a weak but determined voice from inside the bathrooms.  Mr. Bear growled.  A crow laughed and swooped from high in the oak tree above.  He bulleted toward me, wings closed, looking for blood, daring me to write a silly Raven poem about his bad ass.  I jumped under Mr. Bear for cover, wearing him like a Chow-Chow skin cap.  PLOCK.  It landed in front of my nose.  The crow had dropped a single silver tube of Lip gloss, pink, with a little toothmark in the top.

A sign from the Gods!!  I ran to the starter’s line, carefully applied the lipstick, puckered up and adjusted Mr. Bear atop my head.  He would serve as my Lookout as I ran.

And we’re off!!!  My Siberian Love Nymph awaited.  Somewhere in the pack ahead...  I pushed and pushed, gasping for breath, nay, dear life.  This was true insanity.  The roots reached out to snap my ankles like dry twigs.  The sloped slippery rocks dared this long-haired punk to, “Go Ahead...  Make my geologic Eon.”  Branches sprung back from other runners whipped and scratched my face and eyes.  My nineteen dollar Kinney sneakers unraveled in a ball of polyester mud mush.  But still I ran.  Pop.  Pop.  Pop!  I cursed myself for not cutting my toenails.  They snagged on my socks and were torn off one by one with the force of my pounding.  Ah yes, indeed.  This was quickly becoming my own Savoy Death march.  No it couldn't be.  It had to be.  I couldn't forget her.  It was a LOVE MARCH.  I licked my cracked and bleeding lips to taste her.  Revlon summer shades.  My favorite.  Mariana, where are you?!?!?

All of a sudden I reached the crest of a hill.  The earth rumbled.  Bear growled atop my head.  The sun dimmed to a weak peach orb.  Cirrus clouds descended, swarmed grey and furious and made ready to rumble....  All very serious.  Footsteps clawed their way up the hill as I stood there and panted, trying to wipe the lipstick off my face.  Branches shattered.  I heard granite crumble like empty eggshells.  Oh lordy, was this to be my moment of judgment.  I thought back to all my past sins, trying to organize them all in my head, preparing myself for confession before Mariana's certain husband, this megalomonster coming my way.

Lets see.  When I was 7 I single-handedly massacred a village of carpenter ants with a magnifying glass and popsicle sticks.  I looked up.  Power lines were strung over the top of the mountain.  OH NO!  What if IT was a Mutant Carpenter Ant?  And then Bear did it.  He did the one thing Mr. Bear Protector and Ace Lookout number one Red-haired Dog Bunnies are not supposed to do.  He got scared and peed on me.

And suddenly the source of my Dolphian terror appeared.  Over the crest of the hill, this guy. I mean it.  This GUY, big face, bigger grin, dark hair, bout 220 pounds, old grey sneakers, black shorts, dirty socks, sack of dates, nuts and power bars over his shoulder...  I mean this dude...  "Hey there.  I'm FARMER ED!  Looks like you've been working up a sweat."  I slapped Mr. Bear.  He stopped peeing on me.

Well folks.  The rest is history.  Ed handed me a towel to clean up after Mr. Bear and I duly tiptoed behind The Farmer's great steps from there all the way to the finish as we finished in an epic, mythic, truly earth-shattering 6th and 7th place at Savoy 95.

And nope.  I never did catch Mariana.  Not yet...  But a funny thing happened at the post race buffet.  I went from cooler to cooler hoping to rehydrate.  All to no avail.  For every single cup tasted like....  Well you know....  I swear now.  I'm not kidding here.  Tasted like.....  Vodka.

Georgie Bear