posted Apr 24, 2010 10:12 AM by Shawn Robbins
Upon rising at 5 in the morning, the air was chilly. The running shorts and t-shirt did not help. The sky was dark as we entered the car, the conversation casual. We stopped at Honey Dew's on the pike. Cornbread muffin and a maple frosted donut. Breakfast of champions. Combination of sugars, some the body will use now,and some later. I knew it would be the only thing to fuel my body for the challenge that was about to unfold. The sky was beautiful hues of gold and red as the sun shot over the horizon.
We arrived at Hopkinton and I said farewell to my friends. It was still chilly, but that was only an afterthought as I walked down the familiar road, allready bustling with activity at 7:30 in the morning. For one day out of the year, the this green in the middle of town was the center of the universe. More people probably went through here on this day than the rest of the year combined, runners and spectators alike. But it was still nothing like the rest of the course. I played out the last 2 years in my head. People,half noticed in the daze of near delerium, lining the streets, cheering for people they didnt know. It was a spectacle unlike any other, and its what brought me back again this year.
A man named John introduced himself to me. He was from Ohio. We spent the next 3 hours talking about everything from the weather to marathons and about life and philosophy.We watched the mobility impaired leg go off, followed by the women's elite, and finally wave one. We listened to commentary and how this is he 26,000th anniversary from the orignal Marathon in greece. Then it was time for wave 2 to go
Being bandits, we waited until most of wave 2 was past, and the herd started to thin. We said our goodbyes and snuck past the guards into the holding pens and proceeded down the road at a slow, loping jog.John was soon just a head in the ocean of people before me, and I was by myself with my thoughts. Exactly where I would be 26 miles and about 5 hours later, I knew.
The first few miles were easy downhill through sparse houses and good woods. The mood was light, and people were telling jokes and signing songs. I kept silent. I could only wonder how many of them knew exactly what they were getting themselves into, knew how they would be feeling in a few hours, and if all of them would even make it there. In the beginning its easy, so the miles just roll by without a second thought. A mile, a 5k, a 10K. All distances that at one point I thought were daunting. Now they are practice. And at this moment, just the warm-up.
At 6 miles I saw a few familiar faces, friends running water stations. I gave a war cry when I saw my long-time friend Mr. Evans and charged him, giving him a hug that caused him to spill the water out of the cups he was holding. I sprinted away before he could retallitate. At mile 8 I was still strong when I ran by APO's water station. Saw many friends who cheered me on, even my old marathon partner Jimmy. They gave me the energy to keep moving. I held strong until mile 13, when I started to feel a twinge in my legs. But I knew the scream tunnel was still to come, so I kept those legs moving.
The scream tunnel is the part of marathon that goes past Wellesly college, All the girls at Wellesely college line the road and scream their heads off, many with signs that say free kisses. Nothing like a horde of screaming girls to keep a man's legs moving. The effect started to wear off quickly, but when I had started 14 miles ago I told myself I was at least going to run until Jay, who was waiting at mile 16. I held true too that promise, despite a twinge in the knees and cramps in the legs. I learned if I did a few butt kicks while running, it stretched my knees and kept the horrible pain at bay.
Jay was waiting, as always, at mile 16. He had his droid out streaming live footage to my mom in Texas. I stopped to chat and do a few stretches. Running on was hard. I was remined of my first marathon, when I was certain that Jay was the end of the line for me. It took large will and motivation to move on. I was doing better. I used that thought to power me on for the rest of the race.
Despite the knowledge of improved performance, I still had to stop and walk around mile 18. The miles were coming painfully slow and my legs kept cramping in places I didnt even know it was possible The pain in my knee had grown to a dull ache that I couldnt shake. The walk continued until mile 20, where all the muscles in the lower half of my body cramped and seized at the same time. It was all I could do to not fall over. Progress slowed to crawl, and it was only through sheer will that I was able to move them. One slow, painful step followed by another. For five minutes, time stopped as I was wracked with intense agony. Slowly, I worked them out, and was able to move my legs more and more.Then suddenly I was fine, and was able to run for a few more miles. They were coming very slow, but the road was becoming more and more populated. People give me strength. Their energy fills my energy. Their screams power me. I was wearing my blue tecwic shirt. I was able to keep running when other people had stopped. They were screaming "Your my boy, blue, your my boy!!"
I thought of the beginning of the race, the light harded mood, people joking and singing. There were no more jokes, no more singing. Only dedicated faces. Painful faces. I smile wrly despite the pain, trying to bring an air of hope and confidence to the situation.
The last few miles were back to walking, but it was all easy at that point. A 5K left. Chump change. Easy peasy. People were lining the street 5 deep at t point. I went under the overpass, and took the right. And all went silent. The home stretch. The tempest before the storm. I took the left, and the world exploded with noise. The finish line ws ahead, and the sidewalks were completely filled. The home stretch. As I crossed the finish line to cheers and noise, I was filled with exubrance. I got two waters and my blanket. I had done it again.I sat on the bench, workking at my legs.
After about 20 minutes, I was able to stand. I reveled in the feeling. It is amazing what the body is capable of. The ride to the train. The walk afterwards. The ride home in the car. My mind was occupied through all of it. All thinking of the race I had just accomplished. The deed I had just done.
Just to spit in the face of convention, I did the Northampton 5K the following day. 24:55 minutes. Not my slowest time ever. My pinball theory has been tested and tried, and has come back true. I love experimenting with the limits of the human body. |
posted Oct 19, 2009 11:00 AM by Shawn Robbins
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updated Oct 19, 2009 11:39 AM
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This weekend I made a step I told myself I would never take. It was after the triathalon. A group has rented out Chesterfield for years, that i have been meaning to get in on. I took that step. I spent a weekend taking part in a LARP as a non-player character. A live-action roleplaying event. The group was Magestry. They are crazy in the best way possible.
I showed up at about 9:30 at night on Saturday. They were cleaning up from an in-game wedding, and all the players were in the process of leaving the dining hall, which had been converted into a banquet hall/wedding chamber. Within ten minutes, they had painted my face like a marionett, dressed me up in the brightest costume they could find that fit me, put a fake sword in my hand, and told me to go with a group of similarly-garbed people and intercept PC's. It was insane.We ran around camp acting like animated puppets, getting into sword fights and taking down the players. It was a wonderful start to a crazy weekend.
From there, I participated in a "mod," which is like an instance from an MMO. Its how they do an indoor setting. The put a tarp along the ceiling of the dining hall that they can clip different "walls" into, making different indoor environments with different patterns. In this mod, I was a "Thrall." Its like a zombie. We were supposed to prevent the players from getting to the alter that had been constructed on the opposite end of the dining hall. If I die, I was to lay there until the appropraite person yelled "I summon the demons of darkness to my side," at which time I could get up and continue fighting. More madness.
Upon returning, I was given a costume and told to go with another NPC and encourage the players to have fun. I took on the identity of Phillip, he was Donovan, and we were both "independent businessmen." We went to the Tavern(Magee) and bought a round of mead. Now, theres no drinking, so it was actually creme soda. One of the PC's was playing a bartender. It was my first look at what the player characters do. We got a few people to follow us and proceeded to the "Sons of Plunder," the restauraunt/gambling house. The GM gave us a bagful of coins, which were specially minted for the game. We bought the ladies a few rounds of strawberry ale(actually strawberry juice in creme soda) and proceeded to play poker. The werewolves howled in the distance. The players we were with were summoned a lich to participate in a ritual that I found out later ended up almost killing their characters. Donovan and I came out ahead, which was somewhat against our goal, as we were supposed to help provide some gold to the players, but what will happen will happen. We were surprised no one tried to rob us on the way home, which in game would be perfectly fine. To close out the night, we dressed up as skeletons, I grabbed a shovel, and we proceeded to hunt PC's. Then we called it a night, somewhere around 3:30.
Wake up call was 9:30. Right away, I got dressed up and made-up as an interdimensional being and woke up the NPC's by forcing into various sleeping buildings and whacking them with swords until their characters died. Then, I got dressed up as a fairy, glitter and all, and was kidnapped by other evil fairies. We couldnt be set free until the players eithier told a story about the evil fairies killing the gypsies or killing the evil fairies. They opted for the story.
Then we set up for the final battle, modding the dining hall into one big room with a summoning circle in the middle. I was told to grab a handful of masks, orc, troll, hobgoblin, all manner of forest creatures, and swords and fight PC's. If I died, I was to go into the summoning circle, change masks and weapons, and go out again. If I thought the triathalon was challenging, I was wrong. Swords, spears, axes, shields, and fireballs came from all directions as the battle raged on. Players went down, and were resurrected by other players. Dodge, parry, get hit, hit back. Sneak attack. It was amazing to watch the battles previously only in my mind unfold before me. All with foam wrapped in duct tape, made to look and feel more real. People with shields, rapiers, and longswords came at me. At the start of the event, I had only imagined how this would be, and my skills with a sword were lacking. Now, surrounded by three experienced swordsman, my skills I had been developing all weekend were tested. The charged at once, and I blocked, striking one across the chest in return. They attacked again, and I blocked two and dodged the last, striking the dwarf in the leg. Back and forth we went. A look of surprise came across their faces, and I didnt think they expected a newcomer like myself to fight them off. A fellow NPC snuck up behind one and dropped him. The one with the rapier turned on him, dropped him, and then rounded on me. The dwarf and he made easy work of my at the point. I was so exhausted I could hardly lift my arm.
The PC's made it through with no final deaths. All that was cleanup and going home. But it was an amazing experience, one I will not soon forget. It was like living in a fantasy book, or the depths of my imagination, for a weekend.
It was snowing on and off all day. Then, on the ride home, I hit the Peru town line and the heavens opened up. There was about half an inch of snow on the ground. The sun was setting in the distance, sillhouting the mountains on the horizon in orange and purple. Seen through the driving snow, it was one of the most magestic things I had seen. A perfect end to a perfect weekend. |
posted Oct 19, 2009 10:00 AM by Shawn Robbins
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updated Oct 19, 2009 11:36 AM
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The day started early. Up at 6, out the door at 6:45. Weather was forcasted as iffy, at best. Chance of rain, cold, possibly even some snow. It was about a two hour ride to Royalston,the Tully Lake Campground. The morning was chilly, but sunny. It looked promising!!
My bow man (Jay) and I carried the canoe to the lake and scoped at the launch. "I was looking at pictures online. It looks liike we need to push hard in the beginning, or get stuck behind a line of plastic kayaks," Jay said. Sound advice. The course was unique, it looked like it went uprivier, turning around at a pond, and came down. It would be easy to get stuck behind a wall of slow-moving boats in those conditions. With those words, Jay left to scout out the bike course. I set out my running gear at the boat take-out, and waited. I always hate waiting before a race.
Purple lifejacket. For luck. Blood drop paddle, for intimidation. We paddled the boat onto the lake. The water was icy, but I hardly felt it in the pre-race adrenaline. We took position towards the middle, after being told we had to be between the buoys. "The trick to winning a canoe race," I found myself saying "is intimidation. To make everyone else around you too scared to pass you."
"I thought it was staying dry," came the reply from the boat next to us. It was Gloria, someone whos name they were chanting from the shore. We floated there for a few minutes, a voice somewhere on shore counting down every minute. People were yelling curses and insults to boats trying to cross the invisible line early. Then, came the fateful word. "GO!" Immediatly 100 paddles hit the water. In perfect unison, 100 blades glinted in the sunlight of the beautiful October morning. Immediatly, I knew there was trouble. Someone had pointed out that the boat was very back heavy, and I felt the effects immediatly. I couldnt turn the boat for anything. But before I knew it, we were going around the island in the first lake, towards the head of the field. We settled into our groove.
When we hit the river, I realized why they sent us aorund the island first. Cramming 100 boats through the river at once wouldve been murder. Like a runaway stampede through a canyon. We kept going, slowly gaining, padding a few boats, when we hit a bottleneck. The river narrowed a single boat-width. With an S-turn in the middle. I hutted Jay across, and ruddered hard. Too little too late. As the water narrowed, jay yelled "Push through it. Go! Go!" As the boat came to a screeching halt, I realized our folly. After a few seconds of frantic rocking and hard paddling, blood pumping in my ears, Jay called a reverse. We backed out and into the kayak behind us.
The canoe was smooth sailing from the point. We kept pace with the boats ahead of us, slowly gaining on the straights, falling behind on the corner, especially the 180-degree buoy turn in Long Pond. But before I knew it, we were back through the bottleneck and at the take-out point. We beached the canoe, hollered out bib number 212 to the timers, and jumped out. The water was deeper than expected, up to my knees. It was still icy. I still refused to feel it. We hoisted the boat and ran at a good pace up the few hundred feet to the transition zone. I passed the boat to a helper and ran to my shoes. It was a slow change over. Wet feet make sticky feet.
I finally felt the pain in my shoulders when I started on the run. The clock said 56 minutes. i took a right, ran the first quarter mile, and looked up. And up. And up, at the mountain in my way. And on top, I saw another runner. I almost stopped right there. It looked like an impassable wall, a veritable everest. But I put my head down, pumped my arms, and powered up the hill. It hurt, but nothing to do now but keep going.
I have ran many races in my lifetime, but this course was by far the most interesting. It took the term cross-country to a whole new level. In High School, if your course had a single leaf on it your team was gonna be ridiculed by the rest. This course resembled a steeple-chase, involving hurdles over fallen logs and stream beds. Hopping from rock to rock, dodging roots, all the while making sharp 90-degree turns at the bottom of steep dips to avoid the river. And it was covered with leaves. It made me glad for the time I spend running in the woods.
Nothing to do now but what I do best; keep them legs moving. I made good time. Up the hill, right on the road over the dam, and beheld one of the most beautiful sights of nature. The lake, down the hill, with the sun shining on the islands with all the leaves changing color. It was magnficient. It gave me speed on the straights. That and the footsteps behind me. As I turned right back into the woods, the overtook me. Three of them, moving quickly. They remained insight until the 4 mile marker. Half a mile to go.
The last half-mile was the worst half-mile i have ever ran. My strength left me, the combined efforts of my events bearing down on me. My legs screamed at me to slow, but I denied them. They demanded I slowed down when hopping the rocks across the river. I denied them. A sharp ninty-degree turn to the left, up a hill, and I fell face first in the dirt from a root.
"Careful, theres a lot of them around here" came the voice from behind me. I rolled forward and shot up like it never happened. once again, my legs screamed in agony, almost refusing to let me up. I denied them. The owner of the voice flew by without a glance over his shoulder. This time I kept him in view. Then I heard it; the voices from the trees. Cheering, clapping, and cries of jubilation. The end of the running. The cry in my legs reached a crecendo. I slowed momentarily, succumbing to their screams. Then I denied them once again, and redoubled my efforts, and kicked it to the end, where Jay was waiting on his steed to finish the last leg. He zoomed around the corner and out of site. I looked at the clock. An hour and 30-something, combined time. Not too shabby. It brought to a close the end of my participation in one of the most interesting races i have done. Jay finished in about an hour on top of that, with tales of his own. All in all, it was a wonderful day at the racetrack. |
posted Oct 1, 2009 8:14 PM by Shawn Robbins
was sitting in my computer chair thinking I should go for a bike ride. A nice, gentle, easy ride. So I suit up, blow up the tires, mount up and take off for the sunset. I thought well gee, its been a while since I’ve done Kirchner, perhaps ill try it. So I start cranking up the beast. Time and distance begin to blur, my mind torn between focusing on the rhythmic clicking of the chain, the circular motion of my legs, and the natural splendor of nature’s fireworks all around. Before I know it, I am seeing Strawberry acres passing on the left. So I think to myself, “Huh, that was easy. I am SO not done yet.”
Begin the REAL ride. I turn right onto Rt. 8, gentle downhill, keeping the noble steed at a steady 25 mph without even trying, aided in part by a stiff tailwind. A nice, gentle ride in the country. I see Frost Rd. on my right, my target for this leg. And that’s when this whole adventure really took off.
Frost Rd. connects Rt. 8 in Washington to an area on the far side of Washington My. Rd. I knew it was gonna be good because as soon as I took the right, I almost got bucked off the steed because it couldn’t downshift fast enough and I almost went backwards. So I think its gonna be a crazy steep and short hill. I turn a corner, and it keeps going up. I turn the next corner, it kept going up. I turn the next corner, and BAM!!!! The real hill begins.
I powered the hill, never even considering the granny, as daunting as the beast may be. Finally, with aching legs, stinging lungs, and a heart that sounds like a chorus of bombs exploding in my chest, the hill slopes downwards and I make the right on Washington Mt Rd. I thought I was done. I thought it was all downhill from there. But this is formidable foe, and the town of Washington will not let you out of its clutches so easily. The road sloped upwards again, but I would not be defeated. I would not sink quietly into the daylight! I fought, and cranked, and though my legs screamed to end the madness, end the pain, I refused to listen. I laughed in the face of defeat, and made IT shake with fear!! Finally, the AT crossing, the mark of the sloping downhill. I rested, knowing this was the tempest before the storm, the respite before the battle.
It sloped down more and more, turning and turning. And that’s when I saw it, the fateful sign: steep hill ahead, trucks use low gear. Well a bike is no truck, and I was already in my highest gear. I unleashed fury upon my pedals, and they flashed like lightning on a clear night, an image you’re not sure you even saw. Let me tell you, passing cars like they are parked while on a bike is an amazing and rare occurrence. The wind was freezing my body, stinging my face and making my eyes water. And before I knew it was I was motoring down Harryel, feet and legs cramped and stiff from the cold and wind and strain. But to have been able to hold at 60 on a bike for a considerable amount of time made it all worth. It was a killer of a ride! |
posted Apr 17, 2009 11:31 AM by Shawn Robbins
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updated Apr 17, 2009 11:32 AM
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I have nothing to report... check back later! |
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