Lets Go Camping

The drama builds

Before I attempt to lay out the nuts and bolts of the actual camping weekend, I must put the whole event into perspective by attempting to describe the soap opera that was....

"The Planning Phase of The 2nd Annual Camping Trip"

Since I was not part of this social group last year, I can't weigh in on the inaugural event. Now before I call out anybody for throwing this thing together in two days, I feel compelled to disclose that I was one of the driving forces that was hell bent on making this thing happen. A week in the hospital, and a career that is heading toward a shotgun blast in my office were more than enough reasons to get the hell outta dodge and head for the mountains. Personally not having gone on "an official" camp out in nearly 10 years, I was entirely at the mercy of anyone who could pull this thing off from a "camping gear" stand point. My array of outdoor survival gear consisted of a cooler, a flashlight, and a cork screw. And the planning begins..... The point person, so to speak for this gala was well prepared to handle this task from a gearing up point of view. A luxurious 5 person tent, gas lamps, burners, and enough cookware and utensils to weather a 7 day expedition in the White Mountains. From a logistical standpoint, she was to be blind sided by a force of perhaps greater magnitude than the perils of summiting Mt. Everest. As is the case with most "planned event" that the Pioneer Running Club embarks upon, a formal post is laid out on our very own website. The PRC board is no different than most social networking sites complete with sarcasm, viscous personal attacks, and a plethora of opinions creating complete and utter chaos. Our very own webmaster, the honorable JSA, has even at times had to drop the WTF axe on a thread or two that have gone so awry that even a Divine intervention could not derail.

The Story within the Story

As all of this drama was unfolding, an undercurrent, (started by yours truly) was soaring toward the surface ready to rear its ugly head. My timing of a fully choreographed caddy pissing contest with a group member in an attempt to poke a little fun at the childish antics that have overrun our website was, well.... Not Good! This little charade ran the gamut of interpretation from side splitting comedy to a viscous personal character attack. The fall out was not pretty, but I was not to be denied of my camping adventure that I had my heart set on for nearly two whole days.

So a Camping we will go

The contingent of campers was at a critical mass. The venue was switched last minute from a 3 mile drive to 8. One of the simple pleasures of life in the Berkshires is that an outdoor adventure deep into the thickly wooded state forests needn't take more than a gallon of gas. This geographical marvel that is, the Pittsfield State Forrest, also afforded us hard core outdoors man cell service, dishwashers, laundry service and napping stations complete with cell phone chargers a stones throw away.

The Three Amigos

At 4PM we were on our way. OK kiddos, get your 3D glasses on, grab some popcorn and sit back as I attempt to describe the dynamic that was..."The Three Amigos" A fifty plus single dude who plays a software engineer during the day, and a bike riding, distance running trivia buff at night. Then there's the lady. OK, so a 50 something dude who hasn't had a date since before electricity was discovered, a married 40 plus dude complete with 2 kids and more baggage than a 747, and a 50 year old female working out the details of a divorce, a Starbucks jones, and a cell phone processing enough text messages in an hour to bring down the You Tube server all wrapped up in a package complete with Tiffany Ear Rings. So how the hell does that work? It works like a rebuilt motor purring along as smooth as a sail boat cutting through a moonlit lake as still as a piece of glass, that's how. Having a trivia buff to settle any disputes over topics from who invented the escalator to the state with the furthest easterly geographical boundary. The female touch complete with freshly prepared meals, a full array of eating, drinking, and cooking utensils and a coffee pot locked and loaded with Starbucks Coffee. Well, I provided the entertainment complete with a booze induced stumble into the stream and a CD packed with classic beauties including "Wildfire" and "Harvest Moon"

So What the Hell do ya do for 3 days

Well don't take those glasses off just yet, and ya might want to recharge the popcorn bowl for this. The core ingredients to any successful outing were in place. Liquor, good weather, bikes, running gear, swimming holes and no A Holes. Since we got here at 5PM, killing the first night was a no brainer. Tent erection, firewood gathering, some good grub and a few comfy chairs. It don't get more complicated than that. Now had this been a collecton of recovering alcoholics, plodding through a dry nite of conversation. My god, a divorced female, a fifty year old single engineer and a 46 year old married guy on the precipice of a mental meltdown, time may have actually stood still. The beer and wine saved the night as we spent the next 7 hours bumping our gums over senseless chatter. The highlight of the evening was clearly the 300 foot ascent to Berry Pond to be treated to a mid summer spectacle as the sun receded into the western hemisphere at 8:34. True to form, our female companion had to cut her phone conversation short as this solar marvel unfolded. As we made our descent back to base camp, a familiar face made its way up the hill. Tweety, as we affectionately gloss her, was our only visitor. 2 more hours of giggles and tasty snacks and it was time to put a truly wonderful series of memorable moments into the record books. As I slipped into my down crypt and zipped myself in, I wanted to reflect on the relaxing evening with my closest friends, but the cadence and tranquility of the water rushing over the riverbed below washed my thoughts away and I quietly crossed over to that other side.

Day #2

As is usually the case, my broken and beaten body snaps out of a deep sleep as quickly as it falls prey to its inevitability. 4:30AM sharp and I was amped up and ready to seize the day as only an obsessive compulsive human can do. The morning sun was filtered by a damp mist that clung to the cool currents of air trapped by the valleys and gorges that enveloped the base of the mountain. A few deep breaths of the cool moist air was a fitting start to the

The Week Incarcerated in the Hospital

The Race Begins

Knowing that I would likely be a little tight and that a 6 day hiatus consisting of laying in a bed, and a diet consisting of 12 bags of IV fluid, anything might be possible. Would my knee pop at the gun?, would my hammy coil up like a party favour? and of most concern, would my small intestines collapse once again resulting in a catastrophic finish to this insane endeavor? The latter could only be answered by trial and error. The former could be addressed by a series of warm ups and excessive stretching.

The Warm-Up

After parking my Jeep, I began my normal pre-race ramp up. The flip flops were off, and the Zunnos were on, then the watch, and finally the counterfeit bib with the Sweet BMC emblem carefully scribed with a green sharpie. The stretch was uneventful, as I embarked on a pain stakingly slow jog. So far so good. After about an hour of light running and walking intervals, I was ready for a test sprint. Again uneventful. Time to head to the starting line. As I headed toward the start the crowd began to swell and it was time to face the inevitable, conversation with the running circuit. Since the bib I had falsified was strategically covered by my shirt, this was a detail that would not have to be addressed. At least not until I came upon a comrade with the same #42. My god, what were the chances of that! Well, I assured him that with no chip, his time would not be messed with. Then the inevitable "whatcha lookin to do today Dan?" questions would have to be addressed. A recap of my week in the infirmary was not goin to happen, so a "as good as I can do" easily sufficed. That and the fact that with no chip, I needn't labour over explaining why I ran an 18:04 last week, and followed that up with a smooth 26:00.

Staking Out a Position

Now had this been a normal race, the usual starting position is with my left foot firmly planted on the starting line. Today the ego would have to take a hit as I looked for a spot amongst the bottom feeders. Could I possibly settle in behind Santa Claus? or the guy with the fuzzy red white & blue top hat carrying the flag? I think not. As I jockeyed past the fattys, the moms with the double strollers and the 8 year old kids with hoop shorts and skate board shoes, I continued toward the front half. Comments of "Dan, what are you doin back here?", and hi Mr. Damasca from my friends kids were just sending more gasoline on to the fire that was starting to catch. The switch was beginning to toggle, but my depleted body was resisting that switch from flipping. I settled into a spot about 20 deep.

The Gun Sounds

Starting from such a congested swell of slow joggers was un charted territory. When the gun fired, it was on. I inched, and I shuffled as I made my way to a good running lane. At about 1/2 mile, the first victim, Coach Dave. Feeling pretty good, I reeled him in and surged forward. The switch was ready to go as I scanned the field ahead only to see more bottom feeders that were not going to finish ahead of me. Not a week of hospitalization, not even a broken leg was gonna let Fat Ben, River Dave, or JA finish ahead of me. Not today, not ever! Mile 1 at 6:35 was yet another hit to the ego that completed the short circuit across my brain. This was going to be mind over matter at its finest. My adrenaline and competitive sickness was cresting in the face of a body that was shot. Next victim, Todd. This would be a formidable challenge considering the lead he had on me from the gun, and the fact that he's no slow poke. This was a no brainer, Todd was never going to beat me. Not today. Not ever! This challenge was far less of an obstacle than I had envisioned. After blowing by Todd it was a matter of just finding my cadence and cruising home. That was the plan until I started to close in on my running friend Michelle. Michelle is an elite female 25 years of my age, however, could I possibly let this happen? With less than 1/2 mile to go, this was an insurmountable lead. Pride was at stake, but it would have to be chipped at today. As I made the turn toward the timing clock I glanced up to see that 19 had come and gone. The cacophony of beeping as timing chips eclipsed the finish mat got a reprieve as I strided across void of a timing device. 19:37.

In Conclusion

A strange week to be sure. How fitting was it to spend a week in BMC, Berkshire Medical Center, only to be discharged to spend an evening having dinner at a venue directly facing the very room that was home for what seemed to be eternity. This only to be followed by a race sponsored by BMC consisting of a route that circled that same brick behemoth that served as my crypt just the very day before. And then the finish, a gathering of runners that consisted of 2 nurses 3 doctors an a PA that were part of the medical team that had held me captive for so many days. As I headed toward my jeep to finally relieve myself of that building that continues to haunt me, my good friend and PA Bruce called out to me to say, "hey Dan, where did it say in your discharge papers to do a race tomorrow?"

So It's Independence Day

As I sit in my easy chair on July 4th, 2008 at 6:30AM, I am thinking about the 5K race that will commence in just under 3 hours. Ah yes, the summer classic, the showcase of training in front of thousands of parade seekers, and yes, a barometer of talent within the elite runners of Berkshire County and abroad. But today will be different.

The Months Leading Up

The last few weeks I was feelin it, 6:30 tempo runs, track work, a first place finish in a local Rec. Race and a 5K 18:07 just two weeks ago. Right on target for a sub 18. A feat not accomplished in nearly 13 years. But this morning I am not sitting here thinking about sub 18's, PR's or even being able to show my reckless training dividends. No, I am sitting here with my counterfeit bib and the overwhelming feeling of, What The Hell Am I Going To Do This For!

The Previous Week

This topic will warrant another thread to be sure. But for know, the sketchy details. Yesterday, Thursday, July 3rd, I was discharged from the hospital, after a nearly 5 day ordeal that has tapped my system of 99% of it's energy. Not only did this hospital holiday completely knock the training program completely off the rails, it set my energy level to zero. Surviving for nearly 3 days on merely an IV bag has left me feeling like not only will a 5K seem like a marathon, but has rendered me utterly defenseless against the flight of stairs to my bed.

So Why the Hell Am I Attempting This?

In a few words, Because I am an Absolute Idiot! In a desperate attempt to feel like part of my running group, I joined the posse after the Thursday night staple for a bit of grub and running chatter. Of course most of the attendees were fully aware of the events leading up to the evening, a few good running pals showed up completely unaware of the week of hell. River Dave had to just live with, I'm likely not running do to the fact that I am tired and worn out. If I had to relive the story one more time, I would surely have a melt down. Not only were we sitting at an outside table directly across from the previous weeks residence, we had a birds eye view of my window that I stared from for nearly a week. The group was doing a tune up for the race today by replicating the exact course in an attempt to get familiar with a track that they have all walked, driven and raced on at least 100 occasions. First of all, these are great people, not great, incredible people. True friends that carried me through a week I'd surely like to forget with kind wishes, uplifting texts, and deep heart felt concern. But, as is the case on the eve of a big race, the talk gravitates to an assessment of the impending competition. A race of over 1000 in number, and a race that brings everyone out for a plethora of reasons. After about 2 hours of this depressing dialogue, I left and went home. I was now about to do the unthinkable, prepare for the race. Clearly this would be unofficial, as I had not registered and hence was void of a timing chip. This will likely serve as a critical factor in this insane decision as any official record of my participation will be merely hear say. The switch that is sure to flip after the gun, was rocking already as I scrambled to find a bib suitable to blend in. If and when I cross the finish line, I will have to simply say, " I am running for charity" Well, maybe I can figure out a different line than that lame one. Due to this unconventional attempt as a bandit, I will plan on arriving no sooner than 1 second prior to gun time. At this point, I am asking unthinkable questions prior to a race. Can I run? How far can I run? Am I capable of doing this with out collapsing? All valid and pressing concerns. This will no doubt be a humbling experience, as I am expecting a 25 minute death run as a goal. Well I must leave and prepare for this act of clear and utter idiocy.

Details are sure to follow.