Time

Where does it come from and where does it go? Holy $hit, my last post was on November 4, 2008. What happened? I’ve had such a busy month that I totally lost track of time. In less than a month, I was a Co-Lunatic who planned a Hash Run for my running club, I ripped a tendon off my ankle during said Hash Run, I was bit by a dog, and I was the Race Director for the 4th Annual Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race. Whooo!!!!!

Where to start? Let me start by telling you I am still married. My wife is the best. I still don’t know how I was able to pull off the whole staying married thing while involved in all these activities. My youngest son yelled out to my wife one day when I arrived home from work "Mommy, you have a delivery". Should I be nervous that my wife is seeing the FedEx triathlete? I hope not, but it would make for an interesting blog entry. I was either at work, on the phone, or at my computer for the entire month. She is going to kill me when she finds out Mr. RunRunLive himself signed me up for more 2009 road race planning.

I’m not going to talk at length about the Hash Run other to say that yes, I did wear my red dress, yes I did drink way too much, and yes I did break my ankle no more than ¼ mile into the run………………..not necessarily in that order, well kind of in the order. Instead of boring you with the narrative version, here are two links to view the video. The Bastages at YouTube made me limit the video to under 10 minutes, so YouTube has the shorter version. RuncastTV has an awesome version.

http://www.runcast.tv/video/davehash_0001-1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_r_F7vU2XY

Quick story about the broken ankle. I was no more than ¼ mile into the Hash Run when I rolled my ankle on a leaf covered jagged rock. I live in New England and run year round, I have navigated scarier trails at night with a dim headlamp and dimmer friends (sorry guys). I have rolled my ankle hundreds of times running off road, but this time I wasn’t able to ‘catch’ the ankle and unweight it, before I heard a pop. Decision time. Do I stop, turn back, immediately ice my ankle like a responsible adult and wait for the gang to get back or do I continue on, knowing that there are 5 bottles of The Knot Irish Whiskey on the course? I figured I got all dressed up for the occasion, why not continue on, soak my ankle in a few mud pits, and self medicate with Irish Whiskey. I know I’m an idiot. The pain really wasn’t that bad after the 3rd shot, and after the 6th shot, I felt like a Kenyon sprinting onto Boylston Street during the Boston Marathon. Ok, maybe I felt like a short, drunk, smiling, white Kenyon, wearing a red dress while running through mud pits, having flour thrown at him while eating endangered ants. When all was said and done, my all too familiar Orthopedic Physician, who is also a runner and cyclist, DEMANDED that I not run until at least February and not ride a bike until January. Which I translated to mean, you can start riding your bike in early December and you can start running as soon as you feel you are able to. Who is with me?


Although I don’t have a dog, I love dogs, and most dogs like me. I’ve certainly had my share of run-ins with dogs while running and riding, but until November 25, 2008, I’ve never been bitten. I was on a mission to deliver apples to a friend’s house. My friend’s daughter was going to make a few trays apple crisp for our Thanksgiving Day race. While standing on the front porch handing over the goods, I saw her dog running towards us. My first thought when I saw the dog was to bend down and attempt to pat the fur ball, but this dog was running a little too fast. This story would be a lot better if I said the dog was one of Michael Vick’s pit bulls or a big Rotweiller, but unfortunately, this dog was a little Australian cattle herding dog, kind of like a dingo, but smaller. Before the dog reached me, it jumped through the air and latched on to my hand. I pulled my hand away and the dog was still hanging from my fingers. What was a dog lover to do? I’m not proud of this, but I did drop an F-bomb in front of my friend’s daughter while the dog was tearing flesh from my fingers, and then I gave the dog a perfectly executed drop-kick off my hand. I never knew dogs could fly. The dog landed on the walkway, gave me a look like, “OK, we’re even, but you’re bleeding” and ran back in the home. A quick visit to the local emergency room brought more pain than the dog bite. The nurse made me scrub the wounds with an SOS pad, just kidding; it was more like a soft bristle sponge brush. This really hurt. I asked if I could get a numbing agent for the pain, and I was greeted with “You didn’t get the numbing agent yet?” I guess someone was supposed to numb my fingers before the scrubbing began. Oh well, must have been my penance for something I got away with during the Hash Run. When nurse Forgot The Meds returned she informed me they now needed to flush the wounds. Ouch. This hurt worse than the scrubbing. I asked one more time, “Hey can I get something for the pain?” The nurse didn’t say a word and immediately ran out of the room. I have a way with the ladies. She returned a few minutes later with another nurse who proceeded to stick me 5 times with a numbing agent. She apologized for not numbing my hand for the second time. With my hand finally numb, scrubbed, and flushed, I was told that it is not recommended to stitch dog bite wounds. The risk of infection is too high. They explained that if there was an infection, they want the ‘puss’ to drain. They said that after 10 days when I completed two rounds of antibiotics, I could come back to the Emergency Room and they could cut out whatever was starting to scab, scrub and flush the wound, and then stitch three spots. My response was, “Yea right, that was quite the sales pitch, but I’m never going to be a George Costanza Hand Model, I think I’ll live with the scars, thank you.” Almost two weeks later, my fingers are still numb from the pain, obviously not the medications.

OK, on to some safe activities, the 4th Annual Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race. I love being a Race Director, although I don’t like the amount of time it takes me away from running, cycling, or the gym (or if my wife Leann is reading this, I don’t like the time it keeps me away from my family). As any race Director should tell you, planning a race is a labor of love. I am very lucky to have three amazing people who help out tremendously and make the process very enjoyable. This year we had over 430 runners share their morning with us. Things seemed to go smoothly. We had plenty of volunteers, plenty of refreshments, we started on time, and nobody died. I can say that as a team, we are finally figuring out this whole Race Directing Thingy. We had a strong SQRR Club presence at the race. One of our newest members broke the female course record!!!!!! It is nice to get new young, fast runners to join our club; it takes the pressure off us old coots. Although we had plenty of our old coots turn in some great times. The Squannacook River Runners placed 15 of our runners in the Top 50 overall. Not too shabby for a tawdry little running club. Tons of familiar faces, tons of kids, tons of families, and tons of smiles, just what a Race Director wants to see on race day.

What next? The 2009 Groton Road Race planning is in full swing. No rest for the wicked, or injured. I’ve stepped up and accepted an Assistant Race Director potion. What is an Assistant Race Director position you ask? Well there are two definitions, the first being that the ARD is an ‘internship’ that grooms the individual into a future Race Director. This is usually the definition the Race Director subscribes to. The second definition is that the ARD handles everything the Race Director either doesn’t want, or doesn’t have time, to do. Most Race Directors somehow merge the two definitions. Hahahaha I will keep you posted on which definition Chris subscribes to.

Goals for the winter months:
Get healthy
Add 10 pounds of muscle
Avoid the injury bug
Get in as much snowshoeing as possible
Somehow cram 6 months of training into four months so I am race ready in the spring
Oh yea, let my back, leg, and chest hair grow in, Northeast winters can be brutal
Spend some time with my family (I just redeemed myself)

I’m back!!!!!!!!!!!!