A Challenge Awaits

This year, I stood at the starting line of the Aroostook Dirty 30 and stared through a skull mask at 9 individuals toting life preservers and small packs. These "Dirties" had been training all year to run 30 miles of trails, roads, and seemingly never-ending challenges.

There was nervous laughter and an overwhelming sense of dread in the air as myself and the others in the Torture Crew eyed them in silence.
1 Dirty had finished last year.
1 was just a teenager.
4 had run a marathon before, 5 had not.

Throughout the course of the day, the athletes were put through the ringer with calisthenics, swimming, running, and mental torture.
I remember standing from afar and looking down on the 1st mile marker in the predawn darkness. All 9 participants were standing by a river, encircled by our Torture Crew, getting yelled at while they did pushups and burpees. I recall thinking,"there is no way in the hell Navy Seal training is harder than this."

The event proceeded to go downhill from there, with every mile worse than the next.
As the day grew longer, and Dirties began to drop like flies, I became more and more awe-inspired by the human spirit and determination to finish a goal by any means necessary. The athletes were dog tired.

As 2012 approaches, resolutions will be made and broken, but one thing will be guaranteed.
A challenge waits for you.

By the numbers, there are 30 miles of Aroostook County trails, uncountable challenges, curse words, and about 10 people who spend all year looking forward making your life suck for 8 hours.

You can't train for the Aroostook Dirty 30. You don't know the course, and you don't know what we have in store for you.
You can only step out the door every day and do your best, and hope that on September 22, 2012, you have the mental goods to persevere.

Happy New Year from the Aroostook Dirty 30!

The Finale! Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, Race Report By Gary Allen

Hey, do yourself a favor, and read these in order, before reading the finale....you know, just so you know what the hell is going on.

PART 1 CLICK HERE
PART 2 CLICK HERE
PART 3 CLICK HERE
PART 4 CLICK HERE

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen

Finale.


Kale and another TMB gestured for us to take a left turn off the pavement and up thru a gravel parking lot. A motionless ski lift ahead snaked up thru the trees. It was not a good sign that the course was going to suddenly turn flat. It resembled a strange apocalyptic iron insect, frozen in time. A TMB riding ahead reached the sharp incline just before Susan and I and she got off her mountain bike to wheel it as it was simply too steep for her to pedal further. I thought perfect, we can pass her and then she can't torture us any more! I leaned into the grade. That sucking sound ringing in my ears was my own breathing. I sounded more like a teenager on prom night than the athlete I sometimes pretend to be. Susan ground to a walk and soon after I reached my red line and shut my engine down before I exploded. People who are in touch with their bodies know when to back off and when to push and this was not one of them. We climbed using our hands to help lift our heavy legs like awkward puppeteers. Grab, swing, drop. Grab, swing, drop.

We eventually started to run again once the grade lessened and passed the object of our disgust, the TMB up near the summit. She told us to go thru the woods. Susan seemed to know where we were and I followed diligently like a wayward dog, good boy! pant! pant!

Gravity is a wonderful thing and the momentum of running downhill made the memories of the brutal climb seem like it happened in whole other life. We glided downward through the forest on soft grass. Life was good. What made it even better is that I kept expecting to hear the whiz of a derailleur coming up from behind and there was none to be heard. We had successfully ditched the bitch on the bike! They were no yellow brick roads or flying monkeys but it was hard not to hum, ding-dong the witch is dead, the wicked witch is dead!

It was only about 15 minutes later that she reappeared. Where were you?, she scolded. I let Susan do the talking. We had been moving now for over 3 hours and there were hints of what was coming. I thought this will be interesting. As we descended into the Nordic Ski complex. I heard other TMBs talking about how spectators would enjoy watching us be made miserable.

The TMBs rolled up their sleeves and dished out a veritable feast of pain for us, some of it went down fairly easy and some of it tasted really horrible. They ordered us around like convicts at Club Med.

Take this railroad tie and carry it up those steps!
Now, wheel this steel roller up that ramp and back!
Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)
Now, stand on this steel car trailer and hold that cement block, Susan you pull it around the parking lot!
Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)
Now, you pull Susan on the heavy trailer!
Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)
Now, jump up on this box! Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I told then TMB that I could feel the little remaining cartilage in my knees tearing if I continued and she graciously, professionally and quickly ordered me into another exercise of pain, one that would preserve my running career.
Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)
Now, carry something heavy up there. I grabbed a loaded bicycle and started up the ramp. I contemplated letting the air out of the tires about half way up. I justified this thinking if they could mess with us why couldn't I mess with them! Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)
Now,bear crawl up that hill, get down on all fours and crawl! The hill was about 75 yds wet grass and mud and very steep. I could feel my fingers digging into the slop for traction like claws. They were gradually and successfully turning us into animals.
Now, turn around and crawl backwards up the hill the TMB shouted!
Now, crab crawl down! Now on your stomachs and crawl head down. This is the point where I started dragging my hind quarters like sometimes happens to old black labs. I started screaming that I was a paralyzed dog. I think in times of physical and emotional distress we all reach a hysteria limit and this was mine.
Now, do a lap around the field! (about a half mile loop)

It all ended as quickly as it began without warning or apology, RUN, the TMBs ordered. About now we had no idea how far we had gone or how far we had to go. The past hour which I would later learn was called hell hour was all that and more. I was sore in places I shouldn't be sore. It felt good to run. We were going downhill and we started singing made up verses to jingle bells. The creator and director of the event Kale suddenly appeared beside us on a bicycle. We keep on singing. I think he must have decided we were either flipping crazy or that we would likely finish. You see the AD30 tries to make you not finish as opposed to the mamby-pamby treatment at other races that is intended to make the event fun. There were no bands, cheerleaders or aid stations here.

We run for maybe another 30 minutes and I stopped a small rural gas station ahead. The rules of the event said you needed to be totally self sufficient. Many carried fuel belts, head lamps and backpacks. I carried nothing but the $10 dollar bill I had tucked in my shorts just before the start. Just as the Beatles have reminded us, money can't buy you love but it sure could buy me and Susan a Coke. I explained to Susan that Coca Cola is an old-school energy drink. Prior to sports drinks we used it with great success. It has caffeine, sugar, liquid and is easy on your tummy. The rules (what rules? ) did not say we couldn't stop. I strode thru the door confidently and the surprised cashier, a youngish rocker looking women wearing an ACDC shirt with her dyed jet black hair, greeted me like she sees mud covered Spartans in there all the time. Best of all were what I presumed were her two daughters. They said, Nice dress Mister! I explained that I was running the Aroostook Dirty 30 and they seemed to know about it or at least they nodded appreciatively like they did. At the end of my transaction I handed each girl a dollar bill and said, now when you go to school Monday you can tell your friends and teacher a guy dressed as a Roman gave you a dollar. They said have fun and I headed out the door.

I gave Susan her Coke and we both gulped them like there was no tomorrow. I had a brief vision of one of those schmaltzy Coke commercials with singing overly enthusiastic people getting all orgasmic over a freakin bottle of Coke!? Then we were off and shortly along comes Ms Wicked Witch of the East on her bicycle. I didn't ask where ToTo was but thought it. She asked how far we thought we had been? Neither Susan and I cared to guess because we had been moving now for over 4 hours and whatever we guessed wouldn't really change the fact we weren't finished until they decided we were.

Many more miles passed and I think we had to play catch with the tire again but I'm not sure I can remember if we did the second time or not? You see our bodies have a wonderful way of blocking traumatic things that happen to us.

We arrived back at where we had started in the dark many hours before after maybe another 30 -45 minutes of steady running. No jumping jacks, burpees or humiliating positions one can only learn by reading the Joy of Sex, just plain old running. Was that it? Are we done? The TMBs standing around causally did not indicate if we were finished or not. We valiantly looked for a sign and none was to be found. Suddenly 'Mr Pain in the Ass TMB Schwarzenegger' handed me a couple of weights and shouted stand in the iron cross position with these at arms length and hold them there until I say stop. My arms shook like a Miami retiree visiting Fort Kent in January. Finally after a few agonizing minutes he said weights down.

Then he ordered us to come stand by the road and alternately raise and lower the weights as if we were praying to mecca over the passing cars. I'd still love to have been in one of those cars to hear the comments.

After a few more exercises we were told to run. So we weren't done after all?. Susan and I had been running together for hours we had bonded and we were going to finish this thing together...so we thought. Guess again. Suddenly without warning Kale said, Gary go right Susan stay straight and that was it. We were separated like whispering school kids. The result of this was at first devastating to me. I thought maybe I have to run further, maybe I am getting extra abuse because I have taken every and any opportunity and made fun of some of the TMBs? I simply couldn't figure it out. Kale was with me and asked you can swim right? I paused and said yes but not great and if I could find a plastic milk jug or a log to help keep me afloat I'd be more happy.

The river bank was steep and I entered the water tentatively. Now growing up on a island would lead one to believe I'd be the next Michael Phelps or something around water. To the contrary when the water is ice cold, all year-round you don't get in it very often or only when you have to. I conjured up my best Australian freestyle and thrashed my way across. As If swimming alone doesn't challenge me enough, doing so with shoes on and with arms and legs made heavy from a days worth of abuse made it extra fun and dragging cape made me feel like a herring seiner. I didn't drown though!

Back up the bank and then more running. Soon I saw Susan coming my way and when we met we stopped briefly and embraced and just as quickly we continued onward without a word. I sensed we were heading back to were we started now so I started speeding up to get the misery over. Once back there again not a person gave me any indication that I was done or not. All they did was point and say to keep-on running. This was hard as we had been now in motion for over 5 hours. We repeated the lap we had just completed and I had to do my best Johnny Weissmuller intimation once again. I actually felt a huge cramp this time halfway across and wondered is this what happens when people drown?

I used the mental game that there was shark right behind me to inject a final shot of adrenalin that carried me back to dry land. Fatigue is a funny thing and the railroad ties I was running on made me dizzy. My brain couldn't process or coordinate where I was supposed to put my feet on fast moving grind of railroad ties. Toss in the strong smell of creosote used to preserve them and this was a tough stretch for me. I crossed the finish line to applause from the TMBs but I worried I was not yet done. Only when someone asked me how it felt and I said, "I'm going to effin' Disney Land" did I fully realize it was over. This event will demoralize, exhilarate, test and terrorize anyone who runs it. I hope to see you all there again next year, after all I am the defending champion!

(photos of hell hour and more, click here)

Reflections of the 2011 AD 30

Well, It's been about a month since the 2nd running of AD30.

I've been reflecting, and thinking, and wondering. One question I can't seem to answer is:
How in the living hell did that many people finish?

The river running right off the bat should have been a blow to the psyche.
The half mile uphill to Conant Road shortly after.
The 1 million mile uphill to the Nordic Heritage Center should have sent everyone home to lay in the fetal position for the next week.

Hell Hour should have been the nail in the coffin.
If this is so, why did 6 people make it as far as Mojo, at mile 22?
And why in the hell did 5 finish?
WHY?

When I think of this, I shed a tear, and then laugh a little.
The days before the event saw lots of nervous new Dirties, shaking in their britches, demanding that we be nicer, or else no one will do our event in future years. From 2011's finisher rate, there must have been TMBs secretly handing out milk and cookies when Kate and I weren't looking.

Whereas I know this isn't so, this is my conclusion.
Aroostook County, go to Tim Hortons. Go to Walmart.
You are no stranger to being out and about, and seeing athletic types milling around, maybe even clad in MWSC gear, or high school varsity jackets. Maybe even international professional athletes. These are not the tough guys.
Nope. Sorry. Not as long as there are these sick, tough-as-the-nail-they-won-Dirties around.

There's only 5 of them in the County. 2 more in Southern Maine. 7 total. I am telling you right now, these are the toughest people you know. The stuff we put them through was just barbaric.
No strapping young 20 year old men here. No rail thin runner chicks in this group.
We're talking women built like brick shithouses, who can do pushups and squats and burpees all day, and then laugh it off and run 30 miles. Dudes older than 50, hardened by a life of fitness exploits.

In case you haven't been following the Facebook page, the 2012 Apocalypse Edition is set for September 22nd, and is going to suck worse than any other one before it.
And if this pissed you off because you think you are tougher than Michelle Roy, Kyle Washington, Gary Allen, Brent Jepson, Barb Hrubesh, Amy Poland, and Susan Plissey, good.

Submit your letter of intent to kalepoland@yahoo.com and prove us wrong.

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, PART 4, by Gary Allen

FOR PART 3 CLICK HERE
FOR PART 2 CLICK HERE
FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen

Part 4.

Most races go something like this. The faster runners get a lead and eventually they do one of two things, they either win or they don't. The Aroostook Dirty Thirty is a little different. By now Susan and I had become close. Not close like kissy face close, but the inseparable closeness that only athletes get when they are working hard and working together. We didn't say much, and didn't need to, but you could feel it in the air. We were leading and every step was getting us closer to our destination, the finish line. Suddenly, there they are again the TMBs. One who I would later learn is Boyd ordered us to stop and he started screaming at us, DOOOOO IT NOW! Get on the effin ground you dirties! You see the TMBs didn't seem to like it that we were the race leaders and that we seemed to be having fun, so they exacted their wrath on us. I quickly deducted that Boyd either drinks too much coffee or he is just super hyper. He had us sprinting in place...HIGH KNEES, DOOOO IT FASTER! Drop to the ground. COME-ON! Up down, Up down...hey, wait a minute I'm not a yo-yo but this guy seemed like he might be!

He shouted with the force of a boot camp drill instructor. I wondered was he one? ( I would later learn he is US Border Patrol. Remind me to not try and sneak into the USA!) I'd pay to see Boyd terrorize some border jumping Al Qaeda dudes with his extreme Jane Fonda workout. They'd go invade someone else pretty darned quick.

This however, was war on race leaders. It was time to jack in some more bullets into our physiological shotguns. Susan and I didn't say it but we knew what we had to do. If we made this crazy person seem like he was hurting us it would likely only give him impetus to hurt us more. In the middle of one nutty exercise. I shouted, DOUBLE TIME! Boyd looked me square in the eye and screamed back, DOUBLE TIME? DOUBLE TIME! NOW! in his best Marine Corps rebel yell.


They held us there maybe 20 minutes into the following pack caught us and then we were allowed to run on. We had maybe gone only 2 or more 3 miles when we were stopped again by Boyd and his happy band of dominatrixes. (They were on bicycles) This time they stopped us near a wooden bridge where an old car tire laid in the mud. It didn't have a steel rim, just the worn out tread of many miles covered. I wonder how a old tires get out in the woods? Do kids who are making out get a lot of flats? Anyway, the TMBs made Susan and I play catch with the tire. Not catch like we were gently tossing an egg but catch like we were throwing heat in Fenway Park. Every time we made a successful reception they made us step back. Now, throwing a car tire hard at a pretty girl goes against every basic instinct in my body. The tire would loft toward her and she'd hook her bare arm thru the center and somehow stop it's momentum. I could see her arm getting red whelts from the repeated abuse.

We made about a dozen successful catches then pretty boy Boyd shouted, THE FIRST TO DROP IT IS OUT, wait, they way he said OUUTT sounded like Hedi Klum sending a wanna be designer packing on Project Runway? Cool! Reality shows are all the rage. Suddenly this event felt quite real. I dropped the tire with a failed but valiant diving effort to save it. Boyd suddenly was hovering over me and quickly had me doing leg raises, SIX INCHES! he shouted, meaning he wanted me, laying there in mud, to hold my legs out in front of me, exactly a half a foot off the ground. I have the tightest hamstrings on any living homosapien. If archeologists ever find my bones, as I did Bullwinkle's. They'll probably say this one clearly suffered much abuse over his lifetime. What they will never know it that I loved all of it! You see, I can't really straighten my legs as they just don't bend that way. My legs are always cocked into a grasshopper like ready to spring running position. Boyd didn't seem to enjoy my best effort at leg raises and yelled even louder, YOU CALL THAT 6 INCHES! he bellowed.

Suddenly the storm ended almost as quickly as it began and Susan and I were allowed to run. Thank God! What a freak. After a few miles Boyd showed up again and asked us to sing and started asking us a battery of questions as we ran. I quickly figured out he was trying to befriend us so he could then further destroy us and hopefully cause our exit from this event. The TMBs don't really want participants to finish and if they do they want to make damn sure you earned it.

Susan and I turned right and suddenly we were on pavement. I wondered what the passing motorists thought of a spartan and an an attractive woman both covered all in mud running down the road so early in the morning? The paved road felt good under foot. It was a happy time to place your foot and know it would stay exactly where you placed it. Susan and I ran along with an upbeat bounce in our step. I could feel the pace pick up. Kale drove past and gave us a thumbs up and traded directions with Susan who seemed to know where to go next. The road pitched up and we climbed in silence. I had met Susan once briefly at a July 4th Relay event held on Mount Desert Island. This event also encourages costumes and fun. Her team was the Maine Road Hags and mine was Crow Athletics. I wore a rock star outfit that I had used in an all night 200 mile team relay from Woodstock NY to NYC (Yes, that Woodstock!) My get-up featured plenty of black eyeliner. Susan wore a sheer skirt. We got along perfectly and climbed the long grade ahead not worrying about what might be waiting for us at the top.

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, PART 3, by Gary Allen

FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE
FOR PART 2 CLICK HERE
Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen

Part 3.

The punishment ended almost as quickly as it began. The dungeon masters
who made us do burpees and whooping crane and whatever else all that
contortionist crap was, seemed satisfied to send us on our merry ways
without so much as a good job. I tend to talk when I run and the four
letter words were flowing faster than the slow moving waters of the
Aroostook River. It was getting light now and and I could finally see,
which was a plus! The three of us quickly became two as Keegan got
quiet and then faded. Funny how when a runner gets quiet it is sure
sign that the end is near. Perhaps this is why I talk almost non-stop
when I run, perhaps because I know that if I get quiet I too will go
over the edge? I wonder, did I learn this or is this some kind of hard
wired, built-in basic survival instinct? I also wonder, if I do this
involuntarily then perhaps I also do so as a sign to others around me
that I am fine even when I'm not? It even could make them fade and me
not, was I actually born to run?! Who knows? Who in heck cares! I just
love to run! My thoughts are certainly no deeper than the shallow, slow moving,
brownish river located just to my left.

I can feel my right arm pumping up from carrying the 7lb Moose femur.
My secret plan that I hatched to carry it for all 30 miles starts to
fade. My dark maroon toga outfit is surprisingly comfortable to run in.
I love the off the shoulder feel. I wonder, do I look fat in this
dress? Does it make by butt look big?

I take a look at my right arm (the one carrying the femur) and yes, I
can see more veins popping than a Fort Fairfield Junkie (a nearby town,
that I know nothing about , but it goes well in my race report . I
have no idea if they have any junkies there or not?)

I reluctantly toss the bone by a Stop sign just as we cross our first
paved road. I placed it there like a dog who hides a bone fully
intending to go back and find it to take it home with me. I never did
go back but unless they have really big squirrels or that cougar gets
loose it should be there next year. Susan seems nice and we run along
thru woods and past potato fields with a nice rhythm suddenly a freak in mask
rockets up besides us and orders us to the ground. Now Bear crawl over there and back she
orders! Ican't see her face but her shoulders make me obey without further
comment. Now plank! Now up! Down! Crawl! What a bitch I think, but at
the same time I love everything about this event including being
treated like absolute garbage. It is nice change as races today all
coddle their participants. Gu stations, Cheerleaders, Music, Shirts,
Medals, 3 Flavors or energy drinks, Massage tables, Mylar blankets and
even an app that will call home and alert mommy to how you are doing.
None of this was found at this event and I hope it never is.

Susan is a total riot and she and I hit it off and quickly build an
alliance, we decide to act like we are hurting more than we are so the TMBs will
think we're more dead then we are and they might even leave us alone.
We also deduct that if they are trying to mess with our heads then we can
mess with theirs, kind of reverse physiological warfare. I think of the
Survivor the TV show that challenges people to outwit, outlast and
outplay each other. I once sent in an audition tape for the show back
when it first came on TV. I tell myself the only reason they never
called me back is because they damn well knew I would I have won or
maybe it as because I used Martha Stewart to introduce me on the video
tape? Martha and I go way back (really) boy would she love this event!

"Today, we're up in Aroostook County, Maine and we're going to paint
some houses some quite lovely and different shades of pastel and its VERY good
thing!" I can hear her now.

(Wait, she has been up here, I actually saw some houses she must have painted!)

to be continued..

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, PART 2, by Gary Allen

FOR PART 1, CLICK HERE
Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen


Part 2.

Reaching for the car door handle the thought suddenly crosses my mind
to just drive away. I figure nobody would even know I was here and I
can quietly go back to where I came from, instead I open the door with
a sure click. I am approached out of the darkness by a tall lean
figure and correctly deduct this must be the race founder and director,
Kale Poland. He greets me with a smile and a firm handshake. I meet
another female competitor who asks me if I know Kale and I say I do
not, I mention that I only learned of this event sometime in the summer
and it sounded kinda fun. (I think I heard her sigh softly) I thought,
does this mean it isn't fun? (Men always try to read things into the
little noises women make.) She explained that Kale had once done a quad or
a quint IRONMAN, just for the fun of it. I asked for a further
explanation, cause what I thought this meant surely must be different?
She confirmed that Yes, Kale had once swum 2.5 miles, biked 110 and
then had run a marathon for 4 or 5 consecutive days JUST FOR FUN!

This news re-engaged my basic flight or fight instincts and I almost
went with choice number one and got to hell out of here. This event
surely was way out of my league, thinking I am 54 years old and a
marathon runner and there is nothing much more extraordinary about me,
plus I can't swim very far, and although as the saying goes it's like
riding bicycle, it had been awhile since I actually had.

Suddenly a band of people wearing Halloween and other freakish masks
come from the building. These I later learn are TMBs whose main
purpose in life this day is to make ours hell. As in any race I study
the runners to see if there are any ringers. (You can always tell who
the fast people are.) Most of the competitors are wearing headlamps and
backpacks are all seem to be carrying a lot of stuff. I am still obsessing
about the forewarned swim part and borrow a floaty thing from the nice
women parked next to me. I had polished off my coke and eaten my banana
and had a swig of water that I had purchased from the quick mart cougar
earlier. I thought, I should be able to run 30 miles without eating and
drinking as I had done so a few times in my life with no real ill
effects.

We suddenly lined up and were off. I fell into line behind Kyle, the
winner from last year. I thought, he is wearing a headlamp and he must
know the course. The pace was easy enough but my worn out lunar racers
slipped on the wet mud of the dirt road we were running on. It had
rained overnight and there were big puddles to maneuver around. The
headlamps illuminated the puddles and give them an oily shine. We had
gone less than a mile and suddenly Kale was there and directing us to
duck under a metal railing (note: railings are usually added to keep
people out or from falling off something) into a tangle of blackberry thorns, dense
brush and alders, Kyle was still leading and he banged is way into the
brush with the vigor of an amazonian explorer being chased by a 18 foot
anaconda. I heard him cry out, arrrggh! and then silence, followed by
more silence and then splash. I scrambled over to the edge of the abyss
were I last saw him and looked over the edge and there he was laying,
half in the water and half on rocks. To me it looked like he had fallen
about 15- 20 feet. I said are you OK? He said he was bleeding. I could
see that his leg was badly gashed and he said he didn't think he had
any other major injuries but that he was out for the day. We continued
and my new running partners turned out to be Susan and Keegan. We were
instructed to follow the river. The bank was very steep and extremely
slippery not to mention the waist high tangle of brush and thorns. I
was leading our trio and asked about the trampled brush. Susan said it
was probably from Moose. (These creatures can get weigh over 1000 lbs
and are not very smart or very pleasant at times) We had gone maybe
another 1/2 mile and came upon a pile of very big bones as if a
dinosaur had died recently. The air smelled of death. ( If this was a
dead dino I thought, perhaps a meteor would hit Aroostook County and
make us go extinct too?...One could only hope!) Susan again added that maybe
a bear had killed it. I thought , Oh GREAT! Bullwinkle will trample us
to death and/or a Bear will maul us. I picked up a huge bone that I
called the Moose's femur and we continued running. The bone still had
some meat on it, it smelled really bad and it was slippery. It weighed
about 7 lbs. We'd go about 10 paces and then fall ,10 paces then fall.
Finally, we came to our first aid station. WRONG. These people were
not here to help us and one screamed get down in the mud and do
push-ups...NOW! I placed my Moose bone down beside me and quickly
complied with the instructions being barked out to me. I felt by body
rebel to the difficult exercises being force fed to us by freaks in
masks. These contortions were as foreign to my body at this time of
day, as the the French Canadian language used by many who live not far
from here.

to be continued.......

Dirty vs. Dirty

Who will win in this battle of Dirty Proportions? Renee "3rd Time Charmer" Ennis, or Nate "Ultra Cherry" Berry?

Ode to Aroostook Dirty 30

Written by Barb Hrubesh, Overall Winner of 2010 AD30. She missed 2011 and wanted to be a part of it by writing about her experience in a song!

A long, long time ago
I can still remember
How running used to make me smile
And I knew if I had a chance
I could make the people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for awhile.
But torture maidens made me damn every step that I ran
Mojo's wasn't the last step, Kyle couldn't take one more step
But for this race I couldn't train
Through fog and bogs and sewer drains
No guts, no glory and no brains
The day the runners died


Bye bye ultra runners goodbye
Dodged trip wires and leapt fires but the race wasn't done
Eating Mcgriddles and drinking without any fun
Singing this will be the day that I die

(skip next verse because I couldn't think of anything good)

Well, for 10 miles we've been on our own
And hoping that the TM's have drowned
But we couldn't get that lucky
The TM tried to wear them down
As she made them run all over town
But she couldn't break you and me
And while going through the muck
Barb and Kyle both said _uck (yuck )
And Kale became nonplussed
When we left mile 20 in the dust
And when we rode horses in the park
Back at Mojo's, there stood Mark
And we sang dirges as we ran
The day the runners died

chorus

(skip this verse too - dammit - I'm a runner not a poet!!!!!)

Barb be nimble, Chris be quick
Kyle jumped over the candlestick
because fire is Kate and Kale's only friend.
And as they told us to run
Our fingers were waving (well only one)
No angel born in hell could break that satan's spell
And as the bikes spun in the night
I heard Kale laughing in delight
And Kate was ready for a fight
The day the runners died


Chorus


I met a girl who tortured runners
And I asked her for some mercy
But she just smiled and turned away.
So I went to Mojo's to talk to Mark
Because his soul didn't seem as dark
But the man said he couldn't help.
And in the streets the children screamed
The runners cried and the quitters dreamed
Not a word was spoken
Could it be spirits were broken?
The two runners had such fun
Barb H and Kyle Washington (okay -horrible rhyme but too bad)
Say get up wimps and just run.
Today is your day to die

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap, Pt 1, by Gary Allen

Dirty Deeds Run Dirt Cheap
The Aroostook Dirty 30
by Gary Allen

The invitation came in the summer. A running event that required an
essay to enter, no fees and it seems no bull. I wrote back.

Sept 24. Midnight. Driving rapidly toward northern Maine on Interstate
95. Destination Aroostook county. The fog is thick. I can barely see
the road ahead. I have the cruise control set at 79 mph,thinking a cop
might let me off if keep it 1 mph below 80. There are no other cars on the road. Car moose accidents are common in
this part of the world. Neither fare very well when they meet. I am dressed as a
Spartan. I am wearing a dark maroon toga and little else. The heated
seats are toasty on my bare ass. I have Nick Cave cranked on the radio. His dark lyrics make the night and the fog only darker. I figure if I collide with a moose the police will at the very least be amused by a dead roman gladiator
driving a Volkswagen Passat with Nicks riffs..."Just remember that death is not the end,
When you're standing on the crossroads, That you cannot comprehend, Just remember that death is not the end.", playing on the radio. I study the road intently as the the miles click by. I burst out of the fog and suddenly am in Houlton, now I need to follow US Route 1 North to a place called Presque Isle. When I arrive at a few minutes before 4am I have no idea where the start is but being a veteran of many races in strange towns I
search for clues that will lead me to the start. Road Cones? None.
People wearing trash bags? None. Banners? None. Geeks with gadgets?(GPS, fuel belts, i-pods) None.
So I stop at an allnight gas station and convenience store and ask about a place called
Mojo. I also purchase a banana, a coke and a bottle of water, cause the
race instructions say we need to be totally self sufficient. The lady
looks at my costume and with her best cougar smile says, growwwl out the door, take a left, go
thru the light by Walmart then it's on your right sweetie! I was surprised she
didn't ask me why I was dressed like I was and that she didn't ask me to come over to her place, but also remembered that Northern Maine is known for being different and maybe she sees roman soldiers thru here
regularly? I pulled into the dark parking lot and did not see another
person. Strange for a race that would be starting in about 45 minutes,
I decide to pull on some running shorts under my ropes and I don by
battle helmet. I twist the cap of my coke and with a hiss I spray
myself with caramel syrup. For a second I am pissed off to get wet then I
remember this race is called the Aroostook Dirty 30 (Yes. 30 miles!) and
figure my frocks will be damp before days end as the race organizers
also said we needed to be able to swim and to bring a life vest.

to be continued................

Michelle Roy, 3rd Place Finisher 2011, Race Report

4:40 AM: Stop at Tim Horton's 1\10 mile away from start of Dirty 30. Need to use restroom to rid what I think has to be the last of what my body is capable of ridding.

4:55 AM: Listening to Renee rip air out of her buttocks while waiting for the start.
5:00 AM: Ordered to starting line and "introduced" to the TMB's.....wishing I was back in Tim Horton's restroom.

5:10 AM: Start..running in darkness on muddy trails cluelessly heading to the river.
5:20 AM: Meet Kyle (last year's dirty 30 winner) running back to MoJo's with an 8 inch bleeding gash on his leg....huh.

5:22 AM: Instructed to descend down steep, wooded bank to riverside and continue running. Riverside entailed only muck and brush...not to mention slip, sliding down bank into river. Should I put on my floaties??? Thanks for fellow competitor, Jessica, at this point for reminding me every 5 minutes how great of an experience this was.

6ish AM: First torture station. I struggled so bad, my group had to do extra time at this station til I got it right.
6ish-7:25 AM: More riverside trudging then dry land. Hear a drill sargeant in the distance. I'm thinking, "wonder who is training out here?" Then smarts kicked in....."#@!*"

7:25 AM: Second torture station...ouch.
7:40-8ish AM: Run UP Fort road to Nordic Heritage Center. Why enter NHC through the access road when we can just run up the steep downhill hill ski mountain...bastards! Meet Kate at the top who informs me there is Gatorade for us at NHC parking lot.

8ish-9ish AM: Arrive at NHC for Hell Hour and no Gatorade! Challenged and defeated most, if not all, muscles in my body. 9ish-10:40 AM: Run on....arrive at MoJo's not for finish but another torture station.

11AM: Run on...Main street Presque Isle where my vanity sets in. I have to run at a decent pace just in case anyone I know sees me (regardless that I look like the Swamp Thing and am ready to physically collapse).

11:15 AM: Ralph, "See the path off the railroad tracks that goes down to the river? Follow it and swim across. I'll meet you on the other side." Thankfully, Susan was swimming across as well from the opposite direction. Was great moral support except for the fact she had been crying because she missed her grandfather who passed away over 2 decades ago...huh.

11:40 AM: Back at MoJo's to be told I have to do the same loop I just did but in reverse...bastards!

12ish PM: Finishing 2nd loop and told by Kyle to run hard up hill to MoJo's. I want to cry because I feel I can't and am fearing what is coming next. I decide the better choice is to run up the hill. Then Kyle says, "You don't want to be seen walking across the finish line!"

8 PM: September 25, 2011. Registration for 2012 AD30 opens. Will I register...Hell yeah!!
Michelle Roy

2012 Apocalypse Edition AD30 Letters!

Sept. 22nd 5AM Mojo parking lot. Challenge accepted.
Jared Dickinson
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I'd like to start this off with a poem from a movie i love Police Academy 2: Citizens on Patrol.

Jean, Jean...made a machine.
Joe, Joe... Made it go
Art, Art... blew a fart
and blew the whole damn thing apart...

I have been an avid runner for about 6 days now, and I think I am about ready to take the next step. Running an average of 2 miles a day (12 miles total for the year), I have grown tired of the everyday monotony of running without reward. I need a challenge, and hell, if I can run 2 miles, several times in a week, how hard can a 30 miler be? its only 15 times longer than I have ever run, and I am 32 years old! So, if you take my age divide it by 2- you come up with 16. 16 just happens to be divided by 4 equally, so when you divide 16 by 4 you get 4, and that is my lucky number!!! So, with that little math problem solved, its quite obvious why I should be running this race.. I mean its almost like you knew I would be signing up for it.
Also, the other reason I should be in this race is, I have watched the movies Prefontaine, RUN away bride, cool RUNNINGS, AND Forrest Gump. That is four movies with running in it or in the title, how much more training does one need? I am tired just thinking about all the running i have seen...

so, please accept my letter of intent to run this race...
sincerely,

Matt Lindsay

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Well, I guess this is the year to get my ass kicked. After mulling it over I have decided that I will be (if allowed) attempting to conquer the AD30 Apocalypse with the rest of you crazy cats. This is the race of races, not a race for time but a race for completion. The hype of this intimidates me, I have heard horrifying stories of torture, blood, sweat and tears. So the plan of attack is to...Face it. Challenge it. Overcome it. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I may regret this, but all I can say is don't kill me, I will most likely have things to do the next day.

Sincerely (with extreme trepidation),

Greg Palm
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So I guess I'm throwing myself into the fires of your hell run. My wife told me that I am crazy and there isn't enough time to train. I said whatever, I have to try it anyway. Again, she said "you're crazy, I'm not gunna nurse you back to health when you are crying about your feet or legs! Kale's gunna have to do it, he put this idea into your head in the first place!" so I guess it's me and you buddy, hope you give good foot rubs.

Beau Taylor
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Kale,

On a whim, that I will regret later, I plan to show up for the run. The past couple of years I have been full of other whims that were really nothing but excuses; half marathons, a Tough Mudder. All chump events done for glory. Now its time for humiliation. I have done nothing to prepare nor do I plan to do much. The tire has yet to be chosen but a picture is forthcoming. In these next eighty days I will try to remove enough grit from my slit to run. Time will tell.

Grady


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To Those Who May Consider This Letter

I have been wondering about this race for a bit now. Thought it could be nice to take a nice little jaunt through the county, and get ragged on by some woods type folk (really the best type of folk). It made me think of something my dad once said. He said "Boy there is going to be a time in your life when you have to do something so heinous and terrible that you will crap in your pants... right in your pants and you wont even care. you wont care because you are in too much pain to realize you just shit in the only pair of pants you have with you. you will crap in those pants and you will move on, you will persevere over those defecated trousers because there is a greater purpose, to do something few have done. I don't know what that thing is but you will know when it comes..."
I believe this is that very event... Though my Dad never actually said those things, if he had I would imagine he would have been talking about this event.... I'm in...It has been a while since I threw up...

-Kyle Winslow
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Maybe it's the wine, but I've decided that I'm finally ready to submit my letter that signs me up for a day of torture... er... the AD30 Apocalypse Edition. While I am lacking the only requirement that I am aware of (the tire), I do have a back-up courtesy of Staples: a calculator that looks like a tire and fits in the palm of my hand (99 cents at Staples for those that are interested).

- Nicole Dubreuil
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I wish to compete in this race..however I noted you already have a Michelle Roy as a finisher. So I think it only fair that if you allow me to race you christen me with a new name. For the entire duration of this race and forever after in regards to the Aroostook Dirty 30 I will be known by this name.

If you accept me as a participant I would appreciate a new name that gives people the impression I have very large breasts.


Michelle Roy from Massachusetts who actually has very small breasts.
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I'm sure that if you look up 'hell' in the dictionary, it would compose of very little... it would look a little something like this:

Hell: pronounced: [hel]
Noun
AD30 2012
'Nuff said

I'm already intimidated by the name... Aroostook Dirty Thirty Apocalypse Edition? At first I was worried that Kale would make us run around with extra volatile nukes strapped to our backs. I was wrong it seems... apparantly it's going to be tires. Every year I seem to come across something dead, two years ago, it was a racoon, and as I stared into that racoon's black, glazed eyes... they seemed to say, "Yeah....you're completely screwed." Last year it was a moose... or at least the leg bones of one. I imagined that my leg would look similar to this one if I continued to do this terrifying race any more... What will I find this year? A fish? A cow? A dog? I guess I'll find out as I attempt to run the apocalypse edition.... I am crossing my fingers that this years event will not involve anything explosive, anything that has an engine, or anything that involves blind-folds. Well I've been stocking up on band-aids, ibuprofen, and other various pain relievers that should (Maybe?) get me through the race... here's to 2012 AD30, I look forward to seeing the various forms of torture that will no doubt torture us throughout the race... see you all in september!

-Keegan Ennis
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Hey kale, this is a letter from Lindsey Mattila: hey sexy, I want to compete in the awesome race known as the ad30. I am Hard core and will dominate all the other bitches out there in my dominatrix outfit. Lots of leather and whips, ohh yah!
-Lindsey Mattila

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So I hear/see that Kale Poland has been waiting looking for an official entry letter from me for the Aroostook Dirty 30, Apocalypse Edition in September. If you remember Kale, I already gave you a "one word letter" late in the afternoon after completing last year's Dirty 30 and after commenting on someone else's FB post...you asked me if that was my entry letter for 2012 and I posted back "yup".

But in case that wasn't enough, here's my follow-up letter. Kale, I intend to again be conquering the Aroostook Dirty 30 this year with....Gusto, waiting for Real challenges from Any tMb's, while Picturing a Yuengling after finishing....as a first time, brand new GRAMPY!! Hope this does the trick for you!
-Brent Jepson

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10 Reasons Why I Am Committing Myself to the AD30 Apocalypse Edition

10. I love Little Debbie oatmeal snack cakes.

9. It's another opportunity to sleep on Penny's super "comfy" pull-out chair-bed and use Newman's shampoo on my hair (yes, I did..).

8. I've been wondering what to do with my old Volvo's tires that are under the porch.

7. It gives me an excuse to be bitchy to my family for the whole month of September... maybe August, too...

6. Boyd.

5. I only lost 2 toenails. This year, I'm going for 4!

4. I need another railroad spike for a special craft project.

3. In what other race, will I be described as "built like a brick shithouse" and take it as a compliment?

2. Lunacy is one of the Poland's best traits.

1. Three words: Gary. Allen. Fishnets.
-Amy Poland

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Nate Berry and Sarah Ellsworth
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Dear Sir,

This email is to inform you that I will be selling my soul and driving 6+ hours to east bumfuck Maine to have my ass handed to me on a rusty hub cap by the AD30. I will take every punishment that is given out and look forward to partaking in this "Make a Wish" event for the masochistically minded.

Chad Peduto
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As much fun as it was to join the tmb side of the race after my dumb-ass fall, I wish to be entered into the 2012 dirty 30 race. The most difficult part will not be training for the event, bit keeping my mouth shut as to not give you an other tmb's ideas on ways to torture us. I pledge to make it at least twice as far next year, if u don't consider me too high of a risk to allow to start.
Kyle Washington
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Michelle Roy merged her letter of 2012 intent into her 2011 Race Report!
Read it HERE
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Dear Kale, Dirty-30 and any other fool possibly considering this race,

I have a love/hate relationship with you. I love to write the letter, talk smack, shop for online for inflatable devices and chafing cream, but I hate the weeks leading up to the actual event. I love being a 35 year old mother of three who signs up for adventure races with her teenage son, but I hate the anxiety, self-doubt, regret and fear that creeps into my head and messes with me. I love that I pushed myself farther than I ever have before, but I hate that I stopped pushing when I saw hot coffee and donuts. I love how liberating it feels to run right through the mud puddles instead of tip-toeing around them and I love being able to get slimy, grimy and gross just for the sake of it. But I hate feeling frustrated, pissed off and in pain. I love preparing my Camel-Bak with my teenage son and sharing the excitement and anxiety of pre-race nerves, but I hate getting up at 4:00AM and dressing myself in the dark, knowing those warm, clean clothes will be covered in muddy sweat, prickly burdock seeds and ATV dust in less than 60 minutes.

I love being one of very few women who have taken the challenge. I hate that I’m one of very few women who have taken the challenge.

I’m writing this letter with resolution that I will push my body to 30 miles next year, as it’s only October and next year’s event is too far into the future to really give it much thought. I’m writing this letter with trepidation and remorse because a year is never enough time to prepare and September, 2012 will be here before I’m ready.

I’m in for AD30 ’12, the Little Debbie Edition, and will be in every year until I push to 30 miles. And after that, I’m taking up knitting.

Sincerely, Renée-Don’t-Yell-At-Me-Chalou-Ennis
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Dear Kale and the rest,

I’m amazed at how insanely awesome the Aroostook Dirty 30 looks—and I’m equally amazed at how willing and excited I am to have the opportunity to participate. This may or may not be because I am currently experiencing what must definitely be post-first-marathon-euphoria, but in any case I would love, if you’ll have me, to submit my intent for the September 2012 Dirty 30. From what I’ve read and seen on the AD 30 blog, it’s apparent that my training better begin right now if I want a fighting chance. I’m ready to do that.
I entertain no notion that this race will be like anything I’ve done before. The marathon I worked toward for ten months and completed last Sunday is a newborn kitten in comparison to what this monster will surely be. But, kittens are not nearly as much fun as monsters. Sometimes, the completion of one goal is just more motivation to begin a new one.

Thank you for your time and consideration! While I’m simultaneously frightened, humbled, and excited, and knowing that I’ll regret saying this eventually but I’m going to say it anyway: bring it.

Other than that, I hope you're having a great week, and to see you and Nicole soon! :)
Renee Poisson
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Gary Allen, 2011 overall winner, included his letter of intent in the final installment of his race report.
READ IT HERE
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Dear Kale,

I hope this finds you well. I am having a difficult time putting into words what I am about to write because the angel on my shoulder is still trying in a last ditch effort to save me from the pain that I am willingly setting myself up for.

So to put the angel’s worried mind at ease, I thought I would give myself a mental reference of how far 30 miles is…it can’t be that far right? Wrong. It is the equivalent of running from my house on Beals Island to Steuben or Jasper Beach, depending on which direction I head after getting over the bridge. Not quite the confidence boost I was looking for.

Then I thought, I’ll just try to remember some of the locations in Presque Isle that Gary Allen mentioned in his account of last years’ AD 30. Surely the hills can’t be that high. And then I remembered the lovely hill that he spoke about with the ski lifts. I remember that hill, but from a different angle. I was on my bike at the top, having driven into the Nordic Ski Center and then biked over on one of the trails, looked down and decided that biking down that may not be the best idea. I even found a picture to reference when trying to remember the little hill and noticed the electrical wires look vertical in the picture…not good. This is still not helping to build confidence.

After a few failed efforts to help myself feel confident that the AD 30 can’t be THAT tough, I understand now that it is EXACTLY that tough… and more than likely worse than what I can picture, based on what former participants have said and from pictures they have posted. When I type in into the address bar on my computer, my muscles now automatically start aching in anticipation.

I have never played catch with an automobile tire; I had to Google ‘burpee’ in order to figure out that it’s another name for a squat thrust; I still don’t know what a ‘whooping crane’ is (according to Google it’s a bird); and I can’t remember the last time I did a bear crawl…But the sentence that keeps going through my mind is the phrase at the bottom of the Dirty 30 poster on the blog site, “this year, a 100 year old man completed a marathon in Toronto. People your grandmother’s age are doing Ironman. Get yourself out of the gutter.”

It has taken me a few days to figure out how to write this. As far as I can tell, the biggest failure would be not trying. So with all things considered (and the little angel on my shoulder screaming louder than ever to run away)…

I would like to submit this as my ‘letter of intent’ to attempt the 2012 AD 30.

Sincerely,

Carolyn Gildart

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i've been putting off the letter because the reason i'm doing your race isn't like the other letters. i've worn a relay for life t shirt for pretty much every race run the last two years. i do it for motivation for everyone running. it's surprising how people stop complaining about the hills or heat when they see my shirtnot that i'd ever compare running a race to the hell of what i imagine going through cancer would be like, but i would stay up all hours when my cousin was diagnosed in high school. she's the inspiration to wear the shirt. i kinda think that if she can get through what she's been through i have no excuse to not give what i've got to finish my race, then go back and encourage others to do the same.

-Adam Murchison

2011 AD30 Recap

Let's just say that the 2011 edition of the Dirty started with a bang.
You could also say it got off on the wrong foot.
Either way, I'm glad no one told the racers to break a leg before the race.

The race got off to a much faster start than last year. The lead-pack TMBs had a hard time staying ahead of the Dirties in the first 10 or 15 minutes. The rainy fall had turned the first mile of trails into a quagmire, forcing the bikers to take risks of totally eating dirt in order to stay ahead of the runners.

Dirties Kyle Washington, Gary Allen, Keegan Ennis, and Susan Plissey arrived in a pack at the snowmobile bridge where Presque Isle Stream connects with the Aroostook River. They were ordered to bushwhack down an embankment to the river and follow along the shoreline until further notice.
The race was just 15 minutes old when Kyle, last year's men's winner, stayed a little too far to the left ,and fell for what seemed like an eternity.
Banged up and bruised, his only major injury was a gash in his thigh, luckily. It could have been much worse.
Just 15 minutes in, and we already had our first racer quit.

The remaining 3 in the lead pack set off down the hill, visibly rattled by Kyle's fall down the now aptly named Kyle's Drop.
A few minutes later, the chase pack arrived and were instructed to carefully go down the hill. None of them looked impressed.

Just a couple of hundred yards later, all were stopped for their first pain station.
A few of us not working the station viewed the scene from above. 9 Dirties on a riverbank in the dark of the early morning, circled by TMBs yelling and telling them to do a range of physical challenges. It looked like SEAL training.

After the TMBs felt they'd worked the Dirties enough, they sent the runners down the river, again, until further notice.
Boyd, Eric Macek, and I stood on the riverbank, maybe a mile away, listening. I could hear the splashing as they drew near, but saw no lights...and then I heard why. "If they're going to f_ck with us, we're going to f_ck with them!" one of the racers exclaimed. I figured they were just referring to them turning off their lights, but when they came into view, I saw something I couldn't believe.

First, Gary emerged from the darkness, clad in his Spartan outfit, which he had actually driven in from all the way from Mount Desert Island. In his hand was the leg bone of a moose, which was really only 90% decomposed. It smelled awful. Susan was next, carrying another piece of moose, followed by Keegan with a clavicle. It was barely two miles into the race and we'd already had a near death of a racer, and dead animal scavengers!

Meanwhile, Amy Poland, Jess Grass, Renee Ennis, Brent Jepson, and Michelle Roy were being attacked by snakes... rather, Amy had a piece of river vegetation wrap around her leg, and absent-mindedly said, "Sea Snake!", which inspired a moment of panic in the chase group.

They exited the river at the railroad trestle, and started running along the rail trail toward Fort Fairfield...they wouldn't get far before it was time to turn right onto the trail heading to Conant Road.
All runners were able to run up the long, long half mile hill that started that trail off. I was amazed. Not many people in an ultra would run that whole thing. Beasts. They hit Conant Road and turned around, making up time on the way back to the rail trail- it was almost all downhill in this direction.

Taking a right back onto the rail trail, it wouldn't be long until they hit their next pain station, where Kate Knowles and Boyd were waiting. I arrived with Macek to see Susan Plissey and Gary Allen throwing a tire at each other. After Kate and Boyd were tired of watching pass, they made the tire an implement of upper-body destruction. Pushups of all kinds tore up their pecs and triceps. This race was turning into a boot camp...and it was about to get worse. Perhaps having a feeling about this, Jess Grass dropped. It was her first real race, and making it 8ish miles was a super job by her.

After the athletes were done at pain station 2, it was time to run to the Nordic Heritage Center- the hardest way possible. They ran up the hill on 167 which seemed to go forever, only to turn left at Quoggy Jo. Running up the ski hill and then through the woods, they arrived in a large field that they would grow to hate over the next hour. At this point, our youngest Dirty, Keegan, dropped. It was a great effort by the young man, who has now toed the line for both Dirty 30s. Brave dude.

They came to the parking lot of Nordic Heritage Center to find a truck full of random heavy things scattered all over the place, and the same people that had hazed them earlier by the river. It was apparent that they were going to be here awhile.
This was Hell Hour, and each TMB had their turn with the Dirties. It was all about physical challenge and embarrassment, and maybe even a little fun, if the attitude was right.

I watched Brent Jepson get pushed up a handicap ramp in a hand-truck, wearing a blue kids' snowmobile helmet and a child's float around his waist. The TMBs watched Sarah Gahagan force all Dirties to bear-crawl up and down a steep hill. We all laughed as racers in twos pulled another one carrying a cinder block around in a trailer. Think Beauty Pageant meets parade. And that was just a few of the nonsense challenges. In between tasks: run laps around the field.

The racers would cover just 2 miles in one hour, even though they were constantly moving. Somehow, the mood stayed upbeat- thanks to the energetic and "Walking Wikipedia TMB" Boyd , who did, I think, everything the racers did, and then some.

When the racers left Hell Hour, the Dirty 30 was approaching halfway complete. Somehow, we still had 6 people left. Everyone was smiling and laughing...and I knew, with mixed feelings, that the Dirty 30 was going to have a lot more finishers than last year.

Down the hill and back to Mojo, Gary and Susan were the first to arrive. They'd been running together the whole race, and knowing what was about to happen, I couldn't wait to see who was going to pull ahead.

A little while later, the remaining 4 began showing up at Mojo. It was at this time that Renee, a 2-time Dirty, pulled from the race. 22 miles. Amazing. To see the improvement of her and her son Keegan from last year's performance makes me so proud. I know next year she will get it done.

A few more tasks and it was time to run...two 4 mile lollipop style loops and this thing was going to be over. At the beginning of the loop part of the lollipop, we separated Susan and Gary. There was a moment of confusion, but they soon settled into their own rhythms. When Gary and I met Susan and her TMB Kate, Susan muttered to Gary "Just wait." I asked Gary if he could swim, and he said,"I think so...if not, I'll just find a couple milk jugs to hold onto."

Good, because he was about to do what Susan was referring to: hike down a steep embankment and swim across the cold Presque Isle Stream. It was a riot to watch from the bridge, this spartan in a helmet swimming across the river.
Running by Bicentennial Park, another race was going on...a sprint triathlon involving kayaks. That race's workers and athletes gave us a funny look. Who the hell was this Spartan, soaking wet and haggard, crashing their race? By the second loop, the word got around that this was the hardcore Dirty 30, and there were cheers abound.
Catherine Packard would later say,"Thanks for making my race look like a wuss event!" Sorry Catherine, I had no idea there was another race going on!

Gary finished at 11:15, and the finish-line party started. This was my favorite part of the day. With every person that finished, the crowd at the end got bigger, and each finisher got a larger reception. 7 minutes later, Plissey arrived, and then Michelle Roy, followed by Brent Jepson, and finally Amy Poland.

Many people will probably read this report, but few will actually understand the magnitude of how special this day was. You have to be there to see the emotional ups and downs that the Dirties go through on their way to the finish line. There is something so inspiring about seeing that point of ignition, when a person is down on themselves, eyes to the ground, walking....and out of nowhere, they choose to fight, and start running again. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Congratulations to all Dirties, finishers and non finishers. Just coming to the start line took an act of bravery. I know how nervous many of you were. It takes guts to face that fear.
Thank you to all helpers. It sounds cliche to say that it couldn't have been done without you, but that statement is 110% true. I look forward to next year already!

krp

Aroostook Dirty 30 Press Release

Throw mentally unstable athletes, long-distance running, boot camp-type obstacles, and fraternity-style hazing into a blender, and what do you get?
Aroostook Dirty 30.

The race, which starts next Saturday, September 24th, is the only event of its kind, providing an unparalleled mental and physical challenge. Athletes are required to run 30 miles over all types of terrain, and face challenges unknown until they get to them on race day. In addition to these challenges, they have no choice but to deal with the constant barrage of harassment from Torture Maids/Men on Bicycles...TMBs for short.

These sadists, led by Kate Knowles of Caribou, are a mix of the athletes' significant others, friends, and Federal Agents. The volunteers are sworn to secrecy of what's to come by the Head TMB.
She has been quoted as saying: "DON'T TALK ABOUT ANY OF THIS WITH ANYONE !!!!! I'M SERIOUS. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE AN AD30 RACER FOR ME TO DO SOMETHING BAD TO YOU."

Adventure races and marathons can cost literally hundreds of dollars just to toe the line. The Aroostook Dirty 30 boasts a quality experience for FREE- the only entry requirement being a humorous letter of intent sent to Kale Poland at kalepoland@yahoo.com.
The race is based out of Mojo, Aroostook County's go-to place for bicycling and skiing products.

Last year, 12 registered. 5 started. 2 finished. The race starts at 5am on the 24th and the time cutoff is at 1pm.
For 2011, word has spread, and the race has almost 20 entrants from all over the state of Maine. A spectator friendly section of the race will be held at Nordic Heritage Center from 8-10am. Kale, Kate, and Mark Fullen from Mojo, encourage people to come by the store and see how the athletes are holding up throughout the day.

"I am planning on being there," says Susan Plissey. "I am really scared of Kate Knowles. Michelle and I ran with her... and I think she was practicing for the TMB thing. She yelled at us to stop. She was like, 'ass in the dirt. NOW!' And then she had us do all this torture stuff, and she was diabolically smiling the WHOLE time. Totally in her element."

Perhaps the Aroostook Dirty 30 has begun early.

The Dirty Facts

OK.

I've been drinking too much coffee on this rainy day, and I figured I'd do another update, whereas I hit the woods tomorrow and won't see another piece of technology for 8 days. I don't know a few of the entrants, so I feel the need to repeat a few things. Sorry to those who get the point. I'm paranoid. Blame it on the meth.

I was talking to some County folk the other day, and apparently the event is getting quite the attention up there.

First, the necessities.
I will have a waiver that says all of this, but in a nutshell:
-YOU ARE IN THIS EVENT AT WILL. You can quit anytime.

-You aren't paying for anything, so you won't have aid in the form of food or rescue personnel. This event is done in the tradition of grass roots sports. Friends competing with friends and razzing each other. You can quit anytime.

-This is not a traditional race format, it is a challenge. No matter how fast you are, you will struggle to get under the 8 hour cutoff. I absolutely promise. You can quit anytime.

-This, like any other ultramarathon or adventure race, can and probably will result in some type of overuse injury.

-If you don't have a headlight or an inflatable flotation device large enough to hold you up in the water, we cannot let you start.

-If you have any injuries that keep you from doing any of the challenges, you must let us know prior to the start.

-No race-day entries...meaning you can't show up on race morning and say you are doing the race. We've put time and preparation into each athlete, and it would not be fair to the rest of the racers for you to jump in with the advantage of us not knowing you....that being said, send your email to kalepoland@yahoo.com to enter. Must be humorous.

-4:45am is the pre-race check in at mojo

-Look up towards the top of this. If you aren't under CONFIRMED 2011 ENTRIES, please confirm.

I can't help but wonder how many will actually show.
Last year we had something like 12 entrants declare Dirty, and only 5 started. 2 finished.

It's been brought to my attention that there may be more people working the Dirty than actually running. Awesome. Less chance of something going awry.

Very excited to see everyone. Very excited to see everyone push their limits. Super excited to drink beer with the Dirties after.
Almost time to to knuckle up, everyone.
Get it.

krp

Revisit a Classic

Risin' up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive

So many times, it happens too fast
You change your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive

It's the eye off the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And he's watchin' us all in the eye of the tiger

Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
They stack the odds 'til we take to the street
For we kill with the skill to survive

Risin' up, straight to the top
Have the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive

-Survivor, Eye of the Tiger

Athlete Profile: Gary Allen

This month's Athlete Profile is of Gary Allen, Founder and Director of the Mount Desert Island Marathon, which has been crowned North America's Most Scenic Marathon. A lifetime runner who has a lifetime of fast times, he is part of an elite and very select group of people on the planet that have run sub-3 hour marathons in the last 5 decades.
When he hits the track and road, it's all business, but as you'll read, he has a great sense of humor and is going to fit in just fine with the Dirty Crew!

-First off, why did you decide to make the trek to Northern Maine for this wack-ass event anyways?
I hope to ride a moose and I love mashed potatoes way too much, plus I have always prefered people who drive skidders over those who drive Mercedes Benz.

-You have an extensive racing background. What is your favorite event and why?
New York City Marathon is an amazing event and amazing city!

-What accomplishment are you most proud of?
I'm proudest that I even started and suppose I will finish when I'm done, or not!

-You're of the running elite. Have you run 30 miles at one time before, and are you nervous about the "other" parts of the Dirty 30?
I have run 50 miles in one sitting in 6:21. Other parts? Do tell!

-Your motivation for training daily is:
I just need to sweat and am not very pleasant when I don't.

-Goal for AD30:
I'll do my best not to father any Canadian kids.

-What's your training playlist look like right now?
No playlists here. I run with the wind.

-Anything else you'd like to say???
I can't swim and saw something about water?

AD30 Summer Jingle

Tick, tick, tock, oh, how the time does go
2 more months and it's showtime, so
Have you lifted, have you run?
Enjoyed all of this summer sun?

I hope you have, and I'll tell you why
The TMBs would like to see you cry
Cursing and moaning is music to the ears
of nasty bicyclers who've been waiting all year

To torture and maim, and then laugh out loud
Put on your wifebeater and wear it proud
To those who toe the line, all praise is due
because what you're in for, you haven't a clue

The 2nd Annual AD30 will be no bore
We've got so many great surprises in store
A new feature called Hell Hour will be no yawner
We can only hope it'll make you a goner.

So do your thing and toughen yourself,
Cause the Aroostook Dirty 30 is bad for your health!

June 2011 Dirty Letter

I'm sitting here, looking at my list of Dirties for September 24...thinking, "hot damn, we've got to get this locked down".

As I scan the names, the 20ish people I see makes me smile and laugh. Memories of last year's event come to mind.
At one point, we thought we lost a competitor. Kyle Washington, the race's only male finisher, had stopped mid-race to get a McGriddle from McDonalds.

Or what about Barb, the only women's finisher jumping into the stream below Mojo, and going chest-deep?
Renee giving race officials the finger while riding the horse at Riverside...
Having only 2 people left, when the race was only 13.5 miles done.

And there are tons of unknowns. Who are some of these challengers and what do they bring to the start line?
AD30 is unique for many reasons, but number one is that it is like life. Unfair.

We're looking at who you are as a person, and exploiting you. If we don't know you, we're looking at your past race results, or your psyche file, which we stole. Maybe we've even stalked you around town for a 48 hour period.

You might have to do things other competitors don't. The distance will always be 30 miles+, but if you smart off to a TMB and have to drag a cement block on a string for a mile, that's your fault entirely. Accept responsibility.

A couple friendly reminders:
- 8 hours is the cutoff to go 30 miles. That's a 16 minute mile average. Remember there will be times that you will be at a full stop, getting hazed by Kate and the crew of TMBs. Feel like this is out of your range? Try it anyways. We love a higher mortality rate.
-Must show up to the start line in a wife-beater. If you want to add to the costume, style points might help.
-NO AID STATIONS. We don't give you water, food, or any of that stuff. Likewise, no one may have support, either. Meaning, no friends coming out on bikes to give you stuff.
-If you drop out, 10 miles from town, that's your issue to deal with. We don't give sympathy and certainly not rides, either.
-Headlight might be a good idea for the beginning. I remember it being dark for a good hour into the race last year.


If you could please send me either a Facebook message or email with confirmation, that would be great. We are less than 3 months out right now. If you can't make it, or are chickening out, also let me know.
Within the next month, the course will be all planned out. TMBs are being assembled as you read this.. like a swarm of angry bees waiting for a target.
Looking forward to watching you all push your pain tolerance to the max, and then some.

krp

Note from Kale/Updated Letters!

I've been thinking about this race a lot. Maybe obsessing more than I should about a 20-30 person event.
I ask myself why, and am quickly reminded: there are more elements to this than the periodic table:
Most of the Dirties are my friends, and each person brings a different set of talents to this race, yet none of these talents alone can get you through.

As the event draws near, and the TMB's and I start to chat about how to challenge each and every one of the Dirties, I wonder who will finish, and then let my mind wander ahead even more: who might win?
Will it be a runner with endurance?
Will it be a fitness maniac with strength and bulk?
My experience in these types of events tells me that it will be the person you least expect... one who may not be the fittest, just the right mental goods.

The 2nd running of the AD30 has some serious contenders.
We've got triathletes, ultra runners, outdoors people, fast runners, cyclists, and overall fitness junkies. I've never seen such a wide variety, rag-tag group of personalities in one event.
This is going to be a wild ride.
With the high number of entrants, we're going to need a few more volunteers, so if you could, maybe recruit a family member to come out for a morning of fun on September 24.
Without further ado....

THE LETTERS:
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I read about this race last year when I was in Skagway, AK, but couldn't do it as I was there. It intrigued me like any other race like this kind would. Oftentimes, I receive shocked looks and comments like, "You're a glutton for punishment!" (said to me this winter while I was jumping over snow banks during my hill workout on State St.) in regards to my physical activities. Well, since I was in AK, I had to do something crazy. I was registered for my first marathon, but wasn't ready for it, so two weekends before, I decided to cram some miles in by running the Chilkoot Trail overnight. 33 miles, rugged terrain (equally rugged as Richard Simmons' unruggedness), 45 degree angle portion made out of boulders, pitch black, bear haven, 13 hours straight (I know, slow for 33 - but a bit different at night), a new pack that rubbed my back raw, thick fog and no map, and a ziplock bag full of spaghetti and sausage. It was intense, and people said I was crazy. It was my longest trek.

So, I look at the Dirty 30 and wonder...ok Sarah, do you really want to say this?...what's the big deal? I can't tell you how many times I've run through mud (forced and intentionally), how I've thought about joining the Marines just so I can compete in the obstacle courses, how I've eaten a pickled pig's foot, carried a massive wooden cross and huge truck tires, eaten chili out of a diaper, been so covered in mud I thought I was born in Africa, log rolled repeatedly down a hill to the point of brain damage...all with about 2 hours of sleep, or how I intentionally go on adventures that turn out to be misadventures...giving me a nickname of Ms. Adventure.

So again, what's the big deal? This is my kind of race. You give, I'll take.
-The Gahaganator
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I would love the chance to test my limits physically and mentally in the Aroostook Dirty 30. I am a long distance runner and have raced in many races including marathons. My motivation is to not only finish the Dirty 30 but beat Susan Plissey....just sayin'.
Michelle Roy

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i used to be a division 1 track athlete, but got injured. Doc said i should try golfing, i laughed. i do run, at least 10miles a week, not together though. im into crossfit training which would be your type of 'dirty' training and i love it! i moved here last May from Liberty University; where i was a strength and conditioning coach for 9 teams. i love to kick ass, not usually the one getting my ass kicked! im finally healthy enough to start torturing my body again! my husband looked at the site and decided he's a wimp, oh well..just something else ill be better at than him!
Anna
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'm officially crazy for signing up for this one but it's freaken yes freaken awesome. I'm just signing up for my first 5k in Feb which hilarious given the intensity of the Dirty 30. But, I have the drive and ambition to give this a 110%!!!! When I put my mind to something it gets accomplished.
The cut off scares me to the bone! Especially after reading people don't finish. However, it is time to get what I want and push limits for me and only me'!!!!! But, it will great to prove all the Nay Sayers wrong cuz I'm invincible and unstoppable!!!!

I will keep this short n sweet! Let me get down and dirty this September!!!! Heck Ya!!

Yours truly,
Ellisha
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this letter is for the dirty 30, i want to sign up for it. some past experience- tons of road biking, 14 mile xc trail race, 5 mile runs here and there, cpt boot camp, i think im ready for the challenge
-andrew
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Kale, as you probably already know anything that is "Dirty" or called "TITT" I must be a part of. So if it means potential alien anal probing and bloody mud covered freezing bodies clinging and clutching there way through stankholes and root infested trails just to enjoy a cold beer at the finish, Please sign me up... if there is still room available. I may not be the quickest nor the slickest, but participating in a race where I have to repeat, "I Think I Can Lick This" is right where I want to be.
Dan B
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I will be turning 30 this year, so I would like to run The Dirty 30. I
have done hundreds of races, but never a 30 miler. I have never dropped
out of a race. I relish the challenge. Thank you for your consideration.
Susan Plissey
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In person, Jon Kelley bows down on one knee, and "proposes" to join the Aroostook Dirty 30. This, though unorthodox, qualifies him as a Dirty with the rest. May the Torture Maids on Bicycles have mercy on his body....not.
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Ok Kale here it is. I am scared shitless of entering this contest but just crazy enough to push my fears aside and say PLEEEEAAAASSSEE accept me for the Aroostook Dirty 30!!!! Thank you for your time and consideration!! Now please let me get dirty!! Jess.
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After a crazy internal debate...and much self doubt, I have decided to suck it
up and write a letter for this "Dirty 30" you speak of. When I read about your
travels, your adventures, your life, I am so impressed and amazed. You are a
machine!! For that reason, I really doubted that I should sign up to do
something that you designed. But today was the day that mindset changed!! I
could tell you that I had a life changing event, or that I suddenly started
truly believing in myself. Truth be told...lack of sleep and too much Starbucks
French Roast have probably lead me to this decision.
I cannot wait! I love a challenge!! Thanks for creating one!
be well
sarah ellsworth
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to anyone who might care

I am a very dirty boy and sometimes I like it rough! I look forward to getting spanked at the Aroostook Dirty 30!

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap!

best wishes

Gary Allen
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Dear Kale "Tent Man" Poland,

I, Kathryn A. Foster (better known as Kati) desire to participate in your extreme events: Aroostook Dirty 30 and Trouble in Turner. Since I have been in Maine I have heard many endearing stories of the previous Dirty 30, and I too want to frolic through nature and attempt absurd obstacles.

Thank you and have a nice day.
-Kati
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Dude, I was waiting until this race was filled FIRST, and then to beg to NOT be selected!! Who'd want to put up with 30 miles of mud, dirt, sweat, streams, punishment, etc, etc, etc. (Lol...) Ya'll thinking I'm a MAINE-iac or something... I AM... but not a masochistic!!! What would possess ANYONE to try this ridiculous activity ANYHOW?? I think ya'll are NUTS... PLEASE DON'T select me!! :D
as I have too many marathons and ultras to run and NOT ENOUGH TIME!!! I might get my shoes "dirty" or sumtin
-Dave
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Why the heck would I want to put myself through that again? I barely made it out alive the first time. Nearly every muscle in my body was shaking and I could hardly stand up by the end of it. I reeked of the swamp and river I had to wade through, not to mention the sweat and blood that soaked my body. I pressed on through burdock patches, rose bushes, found a tangle of freakish looking prickly vines, at times not knowing if my next step was going to be on solid ground, in a foot of muck, or into a hornets nest. We kept being lead by the starting point and pushed past it as if you were mocking us, letting us think we might - just might - be close to the end when you would laugh like insane sadists and tell us we ain't done yet! My high morale only lasted the first ~24 miles. I wanted to stop and cry so many times, call for a ride, or just find a hiding place to rest my crumbling body.

Why would anyone want to be put through this once, let alone a second time. A second time where it's undoubtedly going to be much more difficult, based on how disappointed Kale was that anyone finished this year.

I guess I've learned something new about myself this year, since I'm bent over waiting to take it again.

Next year's will be twice the race this event was. Like the evil mistress said: "There's no teamwork in the Aroostook Dirty Thirty"! Game on.

Kyle
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Once upon a time there was a woman named Amy who had a fire inside her. She skied, ran, hiked, and biked with wild abandon. Then she got comfortable, got married, and had two kids. Now she watches Food Network, knits, and plays Bejeweled Blitz. But, when she saw the pain, agony, and spirit of this year's AD30 victims, that fire was relit. She wants IN to next year's mayhem, and the opportunity to have that pain and agony inflicted on her.
Amy

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I am SO there! I wouldn't miss it for the world. By next september I should be over the dengue fever I got from crawling through the swamps and that funny smell from going through the river at the sewage plant should be gone. Hopefully the canadians who were sent to spy on us in the raft on the riverbank will have given up by then also. And maybe the hurricane remnants could come a week earlier so we could have that too.
I have a friend in west virginia almost as sadistic as you and she said she would come up and run the ab stations for you because she likes to see people suffer - you, her and Kate should get along fine. At least Mark seems to have some human kindness left in his soul. Not sure if you and Kate have a soul.....
I will be there with my railroad spike and ready to make you work just as hard.
Barb

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When we were running next to the river, we saw a dead raccoon, and I wondered, "Does this foreshadow things to come?" By the eighth mile, I found that the answer was yes. By the ninth, I had to call quits, but next year my goal is half-way. Next time I'll train a bit more... I had a weeks notice. I am glad I will have a chance to try again, keep doing this year after year, and maybe, I too will get... a railroad nail. Oh, and Kale, I take it back, it was NOT easy. And a question, why did we need extra underwear? Keegan

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So Kale....what's this "blog" dealie all about? Is it a particularly wet section of some blowdowns in the woods for next year's AD30 or something? I could handle that...isn't there gonna be anything tough?? You'd better count me in...somebody has to lead all the youngsters around so they don't get discouraged or hurt!

Brent
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I had burdocks in my butt crack, my drenched cotton socks were chafing my ankles and the mud, rain, and river-trudging only added to a level of misery for which I was totally unprepared. I felt a sense of deflation I don’t ever remember having after lacing up my sneakers and “exercising.” I felt fear. Fear of the unknown and that’s usually an emotion I try to avoid by controlling which situations I put myself into. I’m not going to lie to you; I dreaded doing this. The only reason I didn’t shut my alarm clock off and stay in bed that Saturday morning is because I respect the limits to which you push your own body and I not only see you as a role model for my fitness journey, but I see myself as a role model for others on their journeys. If I can’t dance outside my own comfort zone when asked, how can I ask others to do the same?

I can’t promise I’ll finish 30 miles at the next Dirty 30 and I can’t even promise I’ll be better prepared for the course (knowing that a barmy, unpredictable chap like you is planning it again), I can only say I’d like to attempt it again. Chances are, there are 20 other people in better shape than me, who have ten times the endurance I do and actually enjoy that level of twisted, soggy, prickly pain. If you’d like to give others a chance to get pissed at you instead of those of us who already gave it a shot, that’s cool. But keep me in mind as one of your sadistic torture maids on a bicycle.

Renée
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3 weeks ago I never heard of the dirty 30, last Saturday I got my first dose of the " run ". Never thought after trying it one time you could be addicted. So I need my fix next year. Consider this my request to be tortured next year.

Chris