Boiling
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Sunday: not a typical day in the life of me.
By 10:30 a.m. I was sipping an ice cold brewsky behind the FX Matt brewery in Utica, New York. I don't even like beer, but I'd just run 9.3 miles in 80 degree heat plus humidity, and it was flowing free by the keg-full to 11,000 sweaty runners who just finished the largest 15k in the country. About 300 kegs were stacked almost sky-high, waiting for a hearty tapping.
Two F-16's roared overhead. As soon as one of them fired its tail jet, the fireworks began. Yes, I was drinking and watching fireworks before noon. Fireworks in bright sunlight give off more a sense of "we're being bombed" than "oooh! ahhhh!"...nonetheless, I enjoyed the show sipping my beer and sucking on a blue raspberry popsicle to make up for the three gallons of sweat I lost during the race.
Utica is kind of a dumpy, depressing city every day of the year except for one weekend in July. The smallish municiplaity (75,000 people) in the heart of Central New York's Mohawk Valley is a poster-child for the economic hurt that set in during the last part of the twentieth century, as once-booming industry faded in Upstate New York.
But is a pretty damn cool place to be on Boilermaker weekend. The fastest distance runners in the world fly in from various African countries, Europe, Asia, Canada etc. Thousands of people flood the city's lush, expansive, green parks. The locals show off a breadth of culture and spirit that isn't apparent to the casual observer at any other time.
Utica-area natives lined almost every inch of the racecourse, holding out cups of water and ice. Some had popscicles, orange slices or just a big old high five. They chanted "you can do it", "good job runners" and "just five miles to the beer!"
The beer was a big motivator--many a runner found the energy to go on once they were reminded of the keggar that awaited them at the finish.
Despite a few minor freak-outs during the weeks preceeding the race over a perceived lack of training, it was relatively easy and I had a lot of fun. Those big bad hills advertised on the course weren't so bad. The downhills were downright pleasurable! I'm not in it to break any world records, of course. The Kenyans had already crossed the first mile split (four minutes into the race) before I even hit the start line.
By 10:30 a.m. I was sipping an ice cold brewsky behind the FX Matt brewery in Utica, New York. I don't even like beer, but I'd just run 9.3 miles in 80 degree heat plus humidity, and it was flowing free by the keg-full to 11,000 sweaty runners who just finished the largest 15k in the country. About 300 kegs were stacked almost sky-high, waiting for a hearty tapping.
Two F-16's roared overhead. As soon as one of them fired its tail jet, the fireworks began. Yes, I was drinking and watching fireworks before noon. Fireworks in bright sunlight give off more a sense of "we're being bombed" than "oooh! ahhhh!"...nonetheless, I enjoyed the show sipping my beer and sucking on a blue raspberry popsicle to make up for the three gallons of sweat I lost during the race.
Utica is kind of a dumpy, depressing city every day of the year except for one weekend in July. The smallish municiplaity (75,000 people) in the heart of Central New York's Mohawk Valley is a poster-child for the economic hurt that set in during the last part of the twentieth century, as once-booming industry faded in Upstate New York.
But is a pretty damn cool place to be on Boilermaker weekend. The fastest distance runners in the world fly in from various African countries, Europe, Asia, Canada etc. Thousands of people flood the city's lush, expansive, green parks. The locals show off a breadth of culture and spirit that isn't apparent to the casual observer at any other time.
Utica-area natives lined almost every inch of the racecourse, holding out cups of water and ice. Some had popscicles, orange slices or just a big old high five. They chanted "you can do it", "good job runners" and "just five miles to the beer!"
The beer was a big motivator--many a runner found the energy to go on once they were reminded of the keggar that awaited them at the finish.
Despite a few minor freak-outs during the weeks preceeding the race over a perceived lack of training, it was relatively easy and I had a lot of fun. Those big bad hills advertised on the course weren't so bad. The downhills were downright pleasurable! I'm not in it to break any world records, of course. The Kenyans had already crossed the first mile split (four minutes into the race) before I even hit the start line.
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