“He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.” Samuel Johnson
Running brother Dave, wait for it…, from England, and I were about 9 miles in to the 28 mile Florence Urban Trail run, when we happened upon an older gentleman runner who was plugging along. He had a little hitch in his stride, like he was compensating for some long healed injury that now caused this slight flaw in his gate. But his legs were solid. I’m talking like zero fat, bridge stanchion looking legs. You could tell that this man had put in some miles during his years and that back in his day; he could put it on you if he needed to. Alas, nothing lasts forever.
Running Brother Dave and I passed him with a pat on the back and two big smiles. I mean this guy was awesome and we both felt like he could use a pat on the back, after all we still had 19 miles to go and we hadn’t even hit the mountain yet. At this point our conversation kind of went like this. Me “Dude, that guy is bad ass, out here on a Sunday running 28 miles at his age when most of his friends are probably sitting around reading the newspaper.” RBD “Yeah fella, I hope that we’re still out here when we hit his age. I hope he finishes.” Me “Me too.” End of story right? Not quite.
Fast forward a couple of hours and about 10 more miles into the race, we’re starting the downhill and feeling pretty good about ourselves, and suddenly running brother Dave hears me say “What the hell? No way!”, and before he can even ask what I’m talking about, that older gentleman with the hitch in his stride, slides right past us. Like the tag line on my website says,” You Are Capable of More Than You Think”, you betcha ya! Roger that! But let’s be real, we’re not going to let this guy beat us to the finish.
To say that Running Brother Dave and I are competitive is like saying there are “a few” plot twists in Game of Thrones. We are. It’s stupid, neither one of us will ever threaten a podium, but we still have our pride. So… we picked up the pace. Sure enough, within a half of mile, we passed our competition and the universe was back in its natural order. Now the conversation is going something like this. Me “The beers are gonna be GLORIOUS! (Sing that last word out for effect). Let’s hammer out these last miles and then hammer down some beers!” RBD “That’s why we run fella, so we can drink!”
Apparently our nemesis didn’t get the memo. This was done; we were running the last 5 miles as a victory lap! He slides by once again. WTF? Naturally we pick up the pace and pass him again at the last aid station. This time, we put some distance between us and him just for good measure, using some valuable fuel in what was an already dangerously low tank. Now Running Brother Dave and I are focused, there is no conversation at this point, just about 3 miles to glory!
Did you ever watch those old horror movies? Like Halloween or Friday the 13th. You know how they have that suspenseful music going that’s all bass: bum… bum bum… bum… bum bum. I was hearing that in my head. And just like the movies, even though the crazy killer was shot, stabbed, thrown out a window, hit by a bus, and whatever else is supposed to kill someone, our friend was back. This time when he passed, his gate didn’t seem to have as pronounced a hitch, and he actually seemed to be picking up the pace a little. What the hell was he doing? He was finishing, that’s what. And we had no answer. Just like those stupid teenagers that go down in to the basement because they heard a noise, “No electricity, no problem!” We were dead!
We crossed the finished line and did the obligatory man hug accomplishing what we set out to do. We finished our first Ultra. After all of the hugs and kisses from our families waiting at the finish line, we bumped in to Graziano. That is his name; Graziano Guerrieri. Both Dave and I paid our respects to this great man, and humbly asked for a picture with him to which he graciously agreed. THIS is what a beast looks like.
And remember, the next time that you pass someone that’s older then you, with a little hitch in their stride, pat them on the back and be kind, because they will probably kick your ass and you’ll want a picture!
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