The New Guy Cometh

It's been a while since I've run with the Crazy Running Group but like riding a bike, the ability to banter comes right back. For a long time now I've felt that what this group needed more than anything (excluding therapy) was a blog. The e-mail depictions of runs are fantastic for getting the truth out to the masses quickly, but don't lend themselves to easy compilation in the event of a book deal. As you may have noticed, this is entry #2 already. Check!

Yesterday's e-mail inviting the entire Berkshire County running community to a run organized by Nancy also included a Saturday morning run in the Boulders. If you read my recount of yesterday's run, you'll know that not even Mr. Wonderful showed up for the run. I was in the area on [ahem] other business, so I joined her, but that's another story. Anyway, this morning's run was at 7:00 from some obscure church hidden in the twisty neighborhoods behind Sherwin Williams. You need a freaking decoder ring to navigate that rat's nest of a street layout.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw a vehicle off to one side. I parked next to it and saw that it was Paul. Paul is a regular with the Thursday Night Run in Kennedy Park, and the Saturday 6:30 AM Run in Richmond, but has never tempted fate by running the the Crazy Running Group. When asked how he heard about this particular run, he mentioned Theresa's e-mail but said he had gone to the Richmond run at 6:30 and nobody else showed up. "So we were second choice" someone blurted out, to which Paul quickly responded "Yeah, a distant second". Oh Paul, you'll make such a nice addition to the group.

Not unlike the keen eye you use to look over your house when guests arrive - the one that notices little things like the pile of cat vomit you've been stepping over for days and have come to accept as something that belongs there - I kept my mind's eye open for certain things we've come to take for granted, but that might seem odd to a newcomer. For example, Rule #1 of trail running is to wait at intersections for the whole group to catch up so nobody gets lost. Physical contact is often required because you can't always assume people saw which way you went and you don't want anyone bitching at you for leaving them behind. Anyway, about 30 feet into the run, nature gave Paul a jingle and he had to whiz. It may have seemed odd to him that I stopped with him and placed my hand on his shoulder while he took care of business. As a courtesy, I barely even watched. Once Rule #1 was further explained, he understood.

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Caring for the Granny Apple

Ever since her return from Iceland (right, there's a whole country made of ice? I don't believe it. Do they live in gingerbread houses there?) Theresa's been recovering from some marathon. Since "Iceland" is outside of the US of A, they undoubtedly use that newfangled measurement system, the Metric System. That means a marathon is only 26.2 km, which translates roughly to 16.279925237 American miles. I've broken wind for longer than it takes to run that far. Anyway, we were taking turns running with Theresa so she didn't get lonely or slip and break a hip. I hear that runs in her family.

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Paul Gives Mr. Wonderful a Run for his Money

Throughout the run, we would hear things coming from somewhere in the woods that sounded like Mr. Wonderful was talking, but he was nowhere to be found. "Who keeps saying and doing all of those wonderful things?" It turned out that it was Paul. Now, let me back the story up a few months to help set the stage for what will undoubtedly send Mr. Wonderful into full-fledged wonderfulness...

When your humble narrator was dubbed "Judge Sunshiney Ass", Mr. Wonderful - completely out of character - complained that it took him years to get a nickname while I waltzed in and got one within months. To reuse a saying from the last post "Don't hate the player, hate the game". It's not my fault, sometimes the nickname just finds you.

Back to the story. At one point I was taking my turn tending to Granny Apple, covering Bad Jim's shift while he pinched a loaf in the woods. Paul and Nancy were leading the pack about 20 yards ahead (thats 18.288 meters, Theresa) when Nancy "I don't remember the last time I fell" Ogle slipped and fell on her ass. It was the right cheek to be exact. No sooner did her heiny meat make contact with the stone than Paul proclaims "I can't help but to feel responsible". We helped Nancy up, reset the OSHA sign to "0 Days Since Nancy Fell in the Woods", waited the compulsory 3 minutes for her to recover and pressed on. Sure, Mr. Wonderful would have offered to brush the dirt from Nancy's ass, but I don't see him taking responsibility for a terrain-induced slip. Paul was dubbed "Mr. Wonderful Jr."

Not only did poor Mr. Wonderful (soon to be Bruuuuuuuuce again) have to work for years to earn his name, but now a newcomer saunters in and commandeers it. Sure, Paul has to show up again to be considered a real member of the group, but the nickname's waiting for him. He'll even have his own towel at Lea's house.

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What's the Rule on Salamanders?

Sensing that there is a rule for absoultely everything, Mr. Wonderful Jr. asked what the rule was on the orange salamanders scattered about the trail. Being such a Wonderful guy, he instinctively assumed that you were supposed to avoid them at all costs. Bad Jim quickly chimed in from his position as the FRB, Front Running Bastard (Theresa, I used the acronym!!!) and suggested that there was actually a point system associated with the salamanders:

Should you manage to step on two salamanders mid-coitus you would receive 200 points. If you squashed them reveling in their post-coital afterglow you would receive only 100 points. "How can you tell if they've finished?" you may ask. Simple - one will be snoring and the other smoking a cigarette.

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The EMS Commercial

Oh, the commercial... The run began with the theme music of an EMS commercial playing softly in the background. Having read the memo, Paul, Bad Jim and I all showed up in our Burnt Orange EMS Techwick shirts. If you listened carefully you could hear the narrator in the background saying things like "EMS Techwick, strong enough for a man but we'll sell it to anyone" or "EMS Techwick: Badass Gear for Badass Dudes (cut to shot of Bad Jim's shoe squashing a pair of newlywed salamanders)".

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So that's about it, friends. All told the ran lasted about 80 minutes, but between Nancy's tush-buster and her other assorted twists and sprains, plus constantly having to wait for Granny Apple we probably only ran about 20 minutes of it. What's most important is that Mr. Wonderful Jr. was able to join us. Hopefully he'll do his homework assignment tomorrow and press Fred for details.

That's all I have to say about that.

-Judge Sunshiney Ass