Your race sounds insane. I like that. In regards to a few notes on your blog.
1. I don't make lots of money. I hate paying entry fees. Free is good.
2. Why would I want a tee shirt? Most race shirts are awful. I think I have seen two decent ones in my entire life. Forget that. Also, who wears a tshirt in Aroostook County from October on? It's basically winter at that point.
3. Food? I am an adult. I'm capable of feeding myself.
4. Starbucks? Seriously dude? I don't think there is much of a crossover audience for fans of Starbucks and AD30 from what I can gather. I include myself in this.
I hate quitting. If I can still move my legs, I plan on finishing. I don't know what the two bricks are for, but I will bring them too. See you bright and early.
Bring it on, Frosty.
-Ben Murphy
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Just learning about the dirty 30 race. Having a hard time figuring it out but guess it will be a harder time to finish. Gotta get started and I'm already 30 time to get dirty. Please consider this my/our funny letter of intent to run laugh and cry at the dirty 30 2103 race:
Jessica Gleason
Zoey Gleason
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This past weekend was my guide to whether or not I was going to do the AD30 again this year. I spent 3 days and 2 nights at the Cape Cod Relay, with no sleep, ran 20 miles, AND was in a van full of Polands and a future Poland. Just spending three days with Polands is worth recognition.;) I am going to toe the line in hopes of redeeming myself after last year's DNF. Shit just got real.
Michelle Roy, Finisher, 2011
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I'm prepared to meet my maker 9-23-3013. Count me in. Oh ya, Beth Curtis too. I'm not going to hell alone.
Dawn
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I don't know if, strictly speaking, I am entitled to write this in order to take part in this year's AD30 Frosty Edition, but I feel compelled to do so anyway... both to extol this incredible event... and lament the two or three hours of my life spent feeling total agony, anxiety, and a strange underlying fear. I noted in last year's email that our runners always discovered something dead... and last year was no exception, only I didn't realize it until after the race. I was on the four-wheeler trail, shortly before I decided to drop out, when I stumbled upon the body of small chickadee. I took no heed of it at the time, and kept running/hobbling onward, but now I look back and wonder... is this a coincidence? Three years going and each time I find some poor animal dead on the side of the course? First it was the racoon, its glassy eyes yelling at me to stop while I could... then it was the remains of a moose leg, leaving the poor runner to wonder; what happened to the rest of its body? And finally, it was the small and innocent looking chickadee... just lying there... I woke up on the morning of last years AD30 Apocalypse edition, wondering one question.... what does this day have in store for me?
The day started off a little like this, I got up and shut off my alarm (set to go off at 3:45) and then got dressed in my windpants, and a t-shirt. I grabbed my backpack (packed to the brim with various survival tools and band-aids) and walked upstairs, pausing only to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. I slip my running shoes into my already full backpack with some difficulty, before walking out to the garage with only my socks creating a petty boundary between me and the pavement. To the immediete left of the garage door are my biking shoes, I pick them up and then gently lift my bike down from the hook it resides on when I am not on it. I get on my bike and pull out a flash-light, preparing to bike through that darkest part of the night known as the "witching hour." I am almost down my driveway, coasting gently through the cool air when I remember something... Damn! I forgot the tire... how am I supposed to bring a tire with me on a bike?? I imagine a large figure on a bike wearing windpants and a heavy backpack heaving a tire over his head as he bikes no-handed and holds a flashlight in his mouth. I shake the image away, and ponder for a moment, then I remember a Facebook post I had seen (Thanks Nate). I hurridly run indoors and quietly make my way to my brother's room. On the floor, scattered with the other toys and playing cards my brother has collected over the years, is exactly what I'm looking for. I quickly snatch up the small Lego Tire and run back outside. I pick up my bike, and stuff the small Tire into my backpack's outer pocket. Four miles later, after enduring the long darkness with nothing but a small and unreliable flashlight (The stupid thing kept turning off on me) to light my way, I finally reach my destination. Yet I know that this is only the shortest leg in what will be a long day of aches, pains, bleeding, limping, and exhaustion. What happens next is not something that can be told, or explained... only experienced.
The biggest question I always ask myself is this; did I regret this? In the moment, as I drop-out of the race with every muscle screaming, every ache dully pounding, and every cramp gnawing at me... I would answer yes. What the hell was I thinking? I can't run a race like this! 30 Miles??? Wayyy too much. I'm not fit enough... not strong enough! Do I really want to do this to myself? And then... I reflect upon it, and look at it as not just a painful race, but a test. A test to see where my own limits are, and how far I can push myself physically and mentally. Especially mentally, because that will always be the first thing to go out on anyone in a race like this; the desire to continue will be the only thing helping you through the pain that you may not necessarily feel. It is about attitude and perseverence... and a willingness to see it through to the end. I met my mental limits at 13 miles, and that is when I decided to stop... because I thought I couldn't go on, but in all honesty... I believe I could have. This year, I am striving to make it between the fifteen and twenty mile range... no matter what it takes. Hopefully I don't end up being defeated by my own brain, but I guess I'll have to see what this year has in store. Because I can run this race, maybe not all thirty, but I want to try and reach those limitations whatever the cost.
The hardest part about AD30 in my opinion is the arguing with yourself as you slowly lose all vestiges of sanity. Average thought processes tend to go like this: This is fun! This is f*****g insane. I'm having the time of my life. I'm going to die! No pain no gain. At least if I get lost they can follow the trail of blood... A good attitude is the key. Misery. Gloom. Despair. Just over that hill. That mailbox isn't getting any closer... This river water is nice and cool. Maybe I can drown myself... Ooh look at that cool plant. I think that was poison ivy I just touched... Wow look at that squirrel! That bear is going to maul me. Good thing I packed medical supplies! This band-aid doesn't fit. Wow! Two miles already? How far is that? Seventeen miles? Twenty? Oh wait... three?? I feel fast. I think I'll walk the remainder of the race. Those clouds are really neat looking. Is it raining?? I'm going to feel so great after this! Maybe if I close my eyes and count to three, I'll wake up in my bed with coffee, food, and my ps3. Ow, that cut kind of hurt. All well, pain is weakness leaving the body. I hope our medical insurance covers this... Oh look, it's another activity station! Ah, judging by the sound of small children crying, I must be nearing another activity station. I feel pretty strong right now. You actually expect me to carry that? Uh oh, Kyle fell off the bridge. I have a feeling that fall was no accident. Oh no, it looks like a poor moose died here. I am going to stuff this femur down Kale's throat. Wow, look at all the people who volunteered to help out! YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!
The slightly more practical side of me was verging on psychotic, and my optimistic side is just a bit too unrealistic....
The AD30 has been a source of personal trial for me, I love knowing that, although I have yet to finish (Or even make it half-way!), I have still tried. I have still dared. And I am ready to have another wing at it this year. I will give it another go against my better judgement, because it is probably the better judgement that made me quit. I want to see if I can get past that mental boundary to actually reach my physical limitations... With that said, and my novel complete; to you Kale, and the rest of those setting up this year's event, I can say only this: Bring it on Frosty.
-Keegan
Starter of every single Dirty 30 since the beginning.
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Fuck it, I'm in
-Adam, Finisher 2012
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Dear Kale,
As I read the newest post “Frosty’s Revenge, and The New Wrinkle” I found it was hitting way to close to home…
To name a couple parts…“You've probably spent the last couple of weeks ignoring your running shoes, trying not to choke while stuffing your face with treats, and singing carols.” …yes, yes, and although my singing may be poor, YES!
“Maybe you've even gained a pound or 15”…I don’t want to talk about it…
I continued reading the article and I am excited to see which of the finishers decide to step up to the plate for the Slaughter in Star City. But the closing of this article was what really got my attention…
“It's time to put the cookies down and get after it.”…I may or may not have just finished a bowl of Schwan’s Coffee Ice Cream, but that’s beside the point. But yes, it’s time to ‘get after it’.
I was proud of my accomplishment of 6 miles this year and ecstatic when Kate e-mailed me a week later telling me she re-mapped it and I really trudged 10 miles, but without an official commitment to next year’s Frosty’s Revenge I have quite literally got fat and lazy and now probably couldn't roll 10 feet. I guess it’s time to put down the ice cream cones, Reese’s, Velvetta, cheeseburgers, Swiss Rolls, Nutty Bars, Gushers, Kraft Mac, Chef Boyardee, bacon/pepperoni pizza, Chinese food, pie, and chocolate and get after it.
So with all that said, I would like to officially submit my letter of intent to attempt once more the Aroostook Dirty 30. I know 1/3 of the event won’t be enough to make me happy next year so it’s time to dust off my running shoes (once I find them) and get to work. See you all in the Fall.
Carolyn
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Please accept my official entry to AD30 2013: Frosty's Revenge. In my mind, though, it will be known as "Amy's Revenge." I busted my ass training for this year's race. My bags were packed. My tire was washed and "shined." I had perused the maps in the Gazetteer imagining where the course might take us. I had strategized for how I was going to deal with the distance, tire, flotation device, nutrition, etc. I had all the confidence in the world that I was going to conquer the beast for a second time, and I was determined not to finish last. So, to have to pull the plug was a disappointment to say the least, and while I knew it was the right decision, it was still hard not to question it. I cried, like shed REAL tears over it. I "watched" yesterday's race with a lot of jealousy for what those amazing athletes accomplished. I realize this letter's not funny or cute or clever and a bit rambling..., but it is a guarantee that I will be "sexy" enough to hit the start line next September.
-Amy Poland, Finisher, 2011
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F
I have been following the AD30 since the beginning...because like most of us ...we follow and stalk Kale's life and endeavors like it is our job (or 2nd job).
The first year I said NO because it was too close to my first marathon...and I didn't want to jeopardize a weekend away with the girls for the AD30 (plus I thought I would die while RUNning 26.2). The second year, NO...my brother in law was getting married that weekend (although I did send Kale a message stating that I was secretly hoping for the wedding to be called off so I could attend the AD30). This year, well...it seems as though I have no true excuse...I mean, I am sure I could come up with something, but let's face it...It wouldn't be a valid one. SHIT!
So here I am...
Kale called me out like...fill in your own blank.
Head MORONS (MOms Running On No Sleep)...and yes I am ok calling myself a MORONS...it comes with a lot of pressure, respect, and a whole bunch of other BS.
And even though this goes against EVERY truth of the MORONS (insert...support, friendship, self confidence, respect, and I know you won't let me hold Amy's hand, blech, puke, blah blah blah I know that is what you are thinking...but you get my point).
The MORONS is very near and dear to my precious little heart (empowering woman, getting moms back into RUNning, taking care of themselves, this is good shit here)...but sometimes you gotta take off the mom cape and throw on your hooker thigh highs, saddle up, and get DIRTY!
So look for me...I'll be the one with HAUTE PINK HOOKER THIGH HIGHS, two pigtails, and dropping every NAUGHTY word in the book.
-Jessica Woodcock, Head of MORONS (Moms Running on No Sleep)
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I would like to talk in my letter about something serious. My greatest influence. While growing up, I often though about my hero Mario, and how I too someday would like to grow up and chase after a princess.
How I wanted to be able to throw fire from my hands, jump on turtles and find gold coins hidden all over The world.
I strived during my teen years to grow and eat as many mushrooms as I could... This my account for three year blackout from ages 15-18...and ultimately to be the owner of the most bad ass porn- stache money could buy.
As far as I am concerned, Mario lived the gold standard of lives.
On my final note, this is why starting in early July, I am going to attempt to grow a bad ass stache! I encourage all of you to join me in my effort
Oh, and sign me for frosty's revenge, I want in!!
Matt Lindsay, Winner, 2012
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Even though I didn't get the foot rub I was hoping for last time, I guess I will give it a go next year. I have a dream of someday starting my own railroad company, that I will have to build one spike at a time. This may take a while, but I feel that by the time I am Brent's age I can at least get a few feet of track down. Warn the town of Presque Isle, they may witness another battle on Main St. between a viking and a snowman, because I'm coming back!
Beau Taylor, 3rd Place, 2012
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Because I have had to write a lot of formal letters this past month, prepare yourself for a completely non-formal letter of intent:
I love running. I love signing up for crazy/scary sounding races (ESPECIALLY Tough Mudder, Kale’s FAVORITE race). This year I ran and completed my first 50 mile ultra and off road triathlon, in October I’ll attempt my first 100mile ultra…during all this Kale has given me advice, and even paced me during the ultra. I just recently found out that I am now free the weekend of AD30, so, of course, I start to wonder if this is a good idea or not since I have no idea what to expect. After consulting with Kale on whether or not participating in the AD30 a month before my first 100 mile ultra was a good idea or not, he says yes, that I will love AD30, and that it will be good training for the 100….after re-reading the information on the website, I’m unsure if Kale is telling the truth, or just being evil. Either way, I’ll be there! Also, not sure what this Frosty character is all about, but I may have to ninja-kick him in the face.
-Lillian Porteus
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As an old man (61,) I have always been interested in a running (but now, some folks see my pace at less than a turtle but more than plate tectonics.) I doubt that I would have the stamina to finish but have never stopped unless I have fallen asleep or feigned an injury so severe that I elicit sympathy from a well-wishing female passing within earshot of my whimpers and whining.
To my credit, I have completed more than a few marathons, a couple of ultras, but was beat by Vermont 100 at Camp 10 Bear. With a running partner, we did complete the 2-Day Tango in Western PA (a marathon, followed by a 4.5 mile swim, a bike ride, canoe ride, orienteering, and a run back) which took us 1,770 minutes to complete.
I may get lost or forget where I am driving to before I get to Presque Isle (do I need my passport like in Lubec??) but would like to be considered. Enclose is my race fee. If accepted, my tech-shirt size is M to L and I prefer a vibrant color to keep the vultures from thinking I am just some more carrion.
Stephen B. Assante
