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)
