Beaches aren't relaxing

My annual beach weekend is set back from the sea a good 100 meters. It involves a lot of flopping in the sand and chasing after plastic with my friends. This year it involved half-donkey, half-elephant, half-plaid, dancing machines. It's no wonder some people don't invite us to their beaches. Wildwood, New Jersey is not some people and they keep having us back. Some 300 teams, easily 1,000 Ultimate players, once again took to the sand and coated themselves in it.

Getting to Wildwood has never been easy, it looks closer than it is and traffic is always thick. This year my car found out that it is closer than it is. Or at least we found out that navigating is important. It was a hard lesson to learn, one we started to consider some hour or more after we'd missed our turn. The lesson was reinforced by one generous cop who decided that we looked pathetic or awesome or just not troublesome enough to ticket for speeding at 1 AM.

I found 3.5 hours of sleep were savory and delicious in the tent mansion, but longed for more. All that was soon forgotten as time stood still for the plastic chasing. Beach Ultimate, as long-time readers know, is wonderful for the sheer amount of diving that goes on. Look in most any direction and someone is bound to be flying through the air. This year was particularly special as it became a reunion of sorts. First, I was reunited with the disc, as I haven't played since about May. I was a little nervous, but nerves were calmed early as I cut up field and watched A fire a disc toward the back corner of the end zone. I couldn't believe how far out in front of me it looked, but it seemed almost reachable. I gave chase and silently begged for the disc to stay up in the air just a little longer. With a burst and a layout, I reached out my arm and felt plastic before crashing into the sand for a score. That was the last of the nervousness.

I was also reunited with teammates and friends. It was a joy to spend a weekend in the company of those good people and to make some new teammates and friends. Back to the action: One general highlight was the return of my Frisbee (man)crush on Alan. I felt so comfortable on the field with him. There were so many moments where I just felt like he understood where I was headed or went exactly where I needed him to go. Even when he skyed me late in the day on Sunday, it was only because he knew I couldn't find the floating disc due to my (otherwise awesome) team hat. I can't even think of a specific throw or catch that he made to make me say this, I just remember multiple times locking eyes and then going to get a disc or releasing one to him. I could probably gush some more, but it would likely only get more awkward, so I'll spare us all. I also really enjoyed being on the field with MB who has such a great sense of the game and his body in the air. I can't count the number of times that he managed to fake out his mark and drop a sweet pass right in front of me. We had a great give and go and he gobbled up almost everything I could throw. He even tracked down the longest one-pointer I could possibly throw capping it off with a wicked grab. The team as a whole really had some nice flow. I can't remember playing at a Wildwood event where we seemed so in sync. Almost every time I looked up, I saw someone in plaid making a sweet cut. I bet MD faked out so many defenders with cuts to my flick that their knees got tired and locked up. It was so awesome to see her and all the plaid working well together. I wish that I could outline all the highlights of the weekend for all my teammates, but I focus and remember mostly what happened to me and what stands out from there. (And even then my memory is short.)

I've already recounted my first layout. We went 3-1 on the first day, knocking off a ridiculously athletic Colorado team at universe point and then dropping one to a team that I believe we should have defeated. Our early games were pretty easy, although the first one turned out to be closer than it should have been. I had a manic-depressive game in our loss and I've already tried to block it from my memory. The wind had shifted and we struggled in it. We came into Sunday and I've already forgotten most of what happened. If I recall we came out fired up against a good tie-dye team in a battle of the patterns. We were clinging to a lead and then fell at universe point. The 4th next-point-wins situation of our weekend. We split them evenly. We then played a team that didn't see me. It was like I had on my invisibility cloak. I didn't though, it was the same red plaid skirt and modified women's darker red blazer with green trim. I had at least three catches on their first throw up the field, which led to a couple very easy 10-foot throws for scores. My favorite moment of the game though was on an up field pass. The cutter had broken behind me and the throw went up. I gave chase, launched my body into the air, stuck at my left hand and snagged it. I don't get to catch my layout D's very often. That felt pretty sweet. I almost matched it later in the game as I got my finger tips on a nearly perfect outside-in throw that unfortunately landed in the receivers' hands. We kept the points coming and managed to keep our lead steady in a game. As the rain and thunder came it felt like a nice way to end the day.

Only it wasn't. The storm passed and play was allowed to resume. Most teams had left and my body and my mind were halfway back to DC. Despite a quiet protest from yours truly, we returned to our field to wait for an opponent. None showed up, so I took to cleaning the trash that my beloved community had left behind. I was joined by MB and MD and I'm proud to say that we cleaned the sidelines of something like 10 fields. Ultimate players need to learn to pick up after themselves. As time wore on, I began to relax in the knowledge that a hot shower and rest were in my near future.

Only they weren't. Sam had brokered a deal which would allow us to have a rematch with the tie-dye team we'd lost to earlier with a trophy going to the victors. I was audibly annoyed about the mind shift this would require. It took a stern talking to from MD, but once the game began I was all in it and mostly happy to be a part of it. Tie-dye was not taking us lightly this time and the winds from the passing storm lingered. Our throwers struggled, but we fought on. Tie-dye took it to us with some very nice throws and plays. One guy in particular managed to fake me out of my shorts (I'd changed from the skirt) at least twice for scoring catches. Somewhere though, I managed to save a little face as I was on him again and managed to keep my shorts on and knock a disc down that would have been a score. My last memory from the game was a bid on a throw that I've since found out wasn't to me. It's a fitting way to leave the beach; with something more to grasp. MB whipped a pass down the line. I believed I was the intended target and launched myself into the air. I think I was as high as I've ever been horizontally. It was my only chance to make a play and I gave it all I had. The disc flew by and I thudded to the ground, probably swallowing just a little more sand. Tie-dye went on to win. The plaid Donk-a-phant Dance Party headed home, a little richer and a little sandier from the experience.

Picking up where I left off

Sometime after 9 AM on Friday morning, with a large chunk of day ahead, D and I made our way to Dam Four. We had nearly six uninterrupted hours of waiting until we’d return to the trail. We found a bit of shade and tried to get some sleep. I believe that we both had intentions to sleep, but our 21st century bodies couldn’t find peace with nature. D attempted to sleep in the grass, giving himself over to all sorts of bugs. I tried to sleep in a parking space and found that complaints about my bed’s concrete mattress are in fact exaggerated. I believe I managed two twenty-minute naps before the sun rose up and swiped our shade. D didn’t do much better in the grass. With the heat bearing down on us, we decided to seek out another shady spot nearby. We moved the car and lapped up a few moments of air conditioning, before idling and returning to the hot day already in progress. The shade was thicker in this spot and so were the mosquitoes. I don’t remember the minutes thankfully, but time passed in a lazy way. I swam briefly in the strong current of the Potomac. The cold water was a great relief that no tale of polluted water could dampen. For lunch, or whatever meal one eats when he has been up since Thursday morning, we couldn’t find a knife and so instead used carrots and folded up slices of bread to spread the Nutella. Time passed slowly, but eventually our crowd gathered. P and A slogged their way to us. There was a sense of satisfaction and grit behind the sweat and weariness.

D and I eagerly took our turn. We’d waited all day to get going again. We had about 12 miles to go for this leg and we planned to alternate every 4 miles. Feeling like I had to slice through the air with a machete, I began the section that took us past Dam 4 and a few steps closer to the finish. Weighed down by perspiration, D and I were able to converse during the first section of our leg. We switched off without incident. D took to running and I watched as the heat and the many more miles he’d already put in took their toll. To entertain him, I gladly recounted my high school running career in the sort of detail that few people would enjoy. Hopefully, it kept his mind off his labor. Through too many tales of my past glory or from the easy spin of biking, I nearly leapt from the bike for my next 4 miles. I took off at a brisk clip and then spotted some geese on the trail. They waddled on ahead and I decided to give chase. I was gaining on them quickly, but they seemed unperturbed. As I got closer, they began to waddle more quickly and move slightly to the right to allow me to pass. I was surprised that they were not taking flight, but they waddled on. I increased my speed to pass them and they increased their waddle. As I reached the leader, I glanced over to see a goose waddling fiercely at my pace and looking at me in a way that seemed threatening. I’ve seen the Hitchcock movie The Birds and I wasn’t looking for trouble. I accelerated some more.

I don’t know how fast I was moving at this point, but as the temperature dripped down from the mid-90s, I was cruising. Running on 40 minutes of sleep, past glory, and a fear of geese, I whooped and hollered and had myself a hootenanny in the woods for at least another quarter of a mile. Then came the pain. For every peppy step I’d had over the last 15 minutes, I now felt the weight of foolishness bearing down upon me. It was hot. I was tired. The cherry on top of my miserable sundae was that I’d been ridiculous and careless with my energy. I desperately wanted to ask D to spell me just for a moment, but I couldn’t. So I slowed down. Waaay down. I couldn’t ask D for a rest because he wasn’t fresh and he hadn’t just foolishly chased geese. As I plodded along, he recounted his days as a college activist. I listened as best I could as the thickness of the air closed in around me. I was glad to be outdoors and in nature, but my vision no longer extended much past the slow rise and fall of alternating knees. I was folding up into myself and I still couldn’t escape. Slowly, painfully, we made our way to the exchange point. I greeted M with a very wet hug as M and P took over for us. Another leg was behind us, another leg was ongoing.

Next stop: Dinner. Using a borrowed cell phone, I made a call to one of D’s friends in New York by mistake on the way to dinner. She was very polite. Then I sent a text message to the correct B who was part of another batch of reinforcements. Thank goodness for reinforcements. Dinner was high on a hill in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia. Darkness was approaching, but the team recounted our first 21-plus hours of enjoyment over food and drink. I wasn’t scheduled to run until 6 AM the next morning and so I elected to have a thick stout beer with my meal. Due to ongoing logistical challenges, one last batch of reinforcements, and the ever-changing Tom’s Run event, I found out that my time on the trail could actually be done. I sipped my stout with a smile, but then the smile left. I wasn’t ready to be done. I hadn’t properly said goodbye. My pleasure at completing my contribution turned to disappointment at not contributing enough. With a few more nods to the organizational wizardry, I managed to become part of a post-dinner 3-person, 2-bike, group heading out for an 8 or so mile leg. I was there strictly as additional support, but at least I’d get to properly wrap up the athletic portion of my experience.

Riding in the dark quietly behind my teammates, with a headlamp helping to illuminate the path, I listened to the periphery of a conversation and reflected on my time on this trail. I rode slowly as B and LMB alternated two mile sections. In one frightening moment, LMB looked over his shoulder and tumbled off the trail. Fortunately, his fall was only a few feet and he was able to pull himself up and continue on, but not for long. I can no longer recall which bikes’ tire went flat or who was on it, but the leak was immediate. We pulled slightly off the trail and began to examine the situation and our resources. We struggled to find a patch kit as we fumbled in the dark with the tire. Someone surely brought a spare tube, but it wasn’t on the bike. Patching a tire often involves letting glue dry before applying the patch. As we let the glue dry, we found that our string of bad luck wasn’t over. We found this out in the form of rain drops. B stood over the tire trying to block the rain from preventing the glue from drying. We got the tire patched up and pumped up and headed on our way. Within 50 feet, the tire was flat again. It was still drizzling and laughter was our only recourse. I agreed to walk the bike in while the other two pressed on. We arranged for a pick-up at the next section which would require cars back-tracking. As my teammates took a few steps forward, I realized that I had no desire to be out on the trail alone at 11 PM at night. I think scared would be a fine descriptor, but I didn’t allow myself to process that much; I just placed one hand on the seat and one hand on the handlebars and took to running with the flat-tired bike at my side. About two miles later, after a few self-handoffs, all three of us arrived at the pick-up point. The rain had stopped, although some thunder remained. We were jittery. This was the first real hiccup in the plans for many of us. Various attempts to pump up tires and redistribute loads were made as we dodged other teams in pick-up trucks and made preparations to continue on. LMB decided that he’d had enough and the only sensible course of action was for a tired me to join B for the next 4 miles. I nervously agreed that it could be done. B and I had a very nice chat as we alternated a few more miles to the end of the leg.

The end of the leg was the end of my athletic participation and my good-bye had been far more appropriate and eventful than I had bargained. The experience starts to become fuzzy at this point. It was sometime about 2 AM on Friday night. Since Thursday night, I’d slept for perhaps an hour and run something like 18 miles, 2 of them pushing a bike. I was pretty tired and didn’t argue when MB helped me clear out the back seat for some rest.

The next thing I remember is waking up and noticing that all the stuff was piled in the front seat. The car had moved further down the trail, all the way to Riley’s lock, and I’d been out cold the whole time. It wasn't quite daylight yet, but it’s approaching. Oh my, those 2 hours of sleep felt amazing. We cheered some more and daylight came. Our goal was approaching and still Saturday morning spread out before us like an enormous picnic blanket. As D and I made our way to the finish line to wait for our teammates we made two startling realizations. D made the first one- he had picked up a buddy, a little f***er of a tick, clinging to his hamstring. I made the second one, with a good 4 hours before the race was to finish we were a mere 15 minutes from my home. After some internal and external debate we decided that a shower and an Internet search for tick removal were in order. The shower didn't fulfill me the way I'd hoped; maybe I needed other things more, sleep for instance, but the tick removal was a success. D and I achieved new levels of friendship as I slowly plucked the little guy from his leg and stuck him in a baggie for safe-keeping.

Then in a quiet sort of way, similar to how this had all begun, we waited for it to be over. We all gathered together, excited for the finish. Other teams lurked around, but they had the same tired, quiet, heat-worn look that we did. And then, before we knew it, J and J finished it up. Some 200 miles and nearly 36 hours from when we began it was over. They made a few speeches and we nodded our agreement. We ate a few sandwiches and cookies. We took a few photos. We had some beer. Then a month later, after some pizza together and some pool together, I wrote about Tom's Run the way I remembered it. Yet, for all that stuff- speeches, sandwiches, cookies, photos, beer, pool, pizza, writings, nothing could really capture the experience.

It was ridiculous and I loved it.

A fitness event?

We pulled up to a creek blocking the hard-packed red dirt road somewhere in the hills of Maryland. It was nearing 2:30 AM. P was riding shotgun. We'd met at a gathering a week or so prior and I'd been part of high volume email traffic, but other than the last hour we'd spent getting to know one another, we were strangers. I was driving a borrowed car, a low riding silver grey Honda civic. I got my driver's license in a stick shift, but I don't drive much these days. The steep hills of Cumberland provided an early test, and the dirt hills a fine re-test.

Stopped at the creek, I let P get out and examine the the flowing water before us. He seemed to be the group leader; he was organized and seemed very together. He called me over to the creek for a second opinion. I got out of the car and by the light of headlights saw two parallel mounds three or more inches under water that seemed to form a trail leading from one bank to the other. Downstream, just off the left mound, a two to three foot drop led to more creek. I eyed the creek and eyed the low-riding civic.

"We might make it across those trails," I announced motioning with stiff hands in parallel tracks, "but I'm pretty nervous."

P agreed and informed me of alternate route which would require backtracking and additional time. We had at least an hour and a half before we would exchange places with our biking and running teammates. Our decision would cost us potential sleep, but would keep the borrowed car from becoming a part of the ecosystem.

We got back in the car and I looked at the embankment on each side of us. There wasn't room to turn around. We'd descended a hill to reach the creek and now we'd have to back out. I glanced over my shoulder and realized that on top of the darkness of night, my view was also obstructed by the bike we were carrying on the rear rack. I stuck my head out of the window and looked up into the darkness.

"P, I need you to roll down your window and let me know if I get too close to that side."

Up and up and up we went in reverse, P helping me maintain my position on the road. After about 150 meters, I had to stop and take a break. Another 50 meters after that and P directed me into a spot to turn around. As we wheeled away, I exclaimed, "Nice to meet you, P! "

If I ignore the many games of pool, the tussle with a bike rack, a few organizational hiccups, and the drive to Cumberland Maryland, this story began some two hours earlier in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. There were five of us, organizing gear and bikes in the two cars. A train rolled by, but otherwise it was quiet, the way one might expect on a Thursday night in northern Maryland. At about 12:15, we found our way to the starting line of Tom's Run. There was no fanfare, just Roger, the organizer and a participant, waiting to send off the various teams. We snapped a few photos and began a 200-mile journey. MB was running the first leg and D was biking along in support. Teams could start at any time after midnight on this night. The goal was to finish by 11 AM on Saturday morning.

While MB and D were sloshing through the darkness armed with bikelights and headlamps, P., A. and I were trying to make our way to the end of the first leg to do a little cheering. It was a little shaky at first. I unintentionally led A. into a game of chicken with an oncoming truck as we circled the Holiday Inn looking for gas. Some quick reverse work and the patience of a Ford owner got us back on track. We climbed through the neighborhoods until we found some friendly, possibly high, folks who guffawed and then pointed us in the right direction.

We waited in the darkness while the mosquitos enjoyed the buffet of our skin. We exchanged hellos with another team and soon saw the white light of arriving runners. It turned out it wasn't our team, but we clapped anyway. A few hearty claps in a dark and tree-filled place. We seemed small and I had a moment of impatience. MB and D arrived in good spirits with a thin layer of mud caked on their legs. We cheered for them for a moment and exchanged a few words about our early challenges. Then off they went. As they ran and biked off into the darkness, I heard D say "And then in my junior year..."

It would be almost 5 AM, before I hit the trail with P. I'd opted only to rest my eyes because after the thrill of the epic reverse had worn off, I was checking the trail for signs of light. Instead I heard frogs and bugs, and then the caravan of SUVs. They chuckled at our tiny car and then departed after their team had moved through. Finally, my teammates A and D arrived. They were right on schedule, but I was itching to get going. P ran first while I biked along next to him. He was chugging through the early morning hours and put down 13 miles at beautiful and brisk pace. We barely spoke as the sun came up and we cut through the morning fog. The trail all looked the same in a quiet, green, curving, flat way. We switched and I carried out the same pace for another 6 miles with P riding at my side. There was still morning fog and temperatures had not risen either. The wildlife seemed to be mostly in our heads as P was frightened by a lynx that turned out to be wildflowers and I swore I'd seen a kangaroo that was probably a deer.

Some time later, after a water stop and a little cheering for a weary MB and D, we made our first team stop. MB was tired like I've never seen him before. The usual spring in his steps had been reduced to something nearing a drag. He and D had put in a lot of miles over the last 8 or so hours and breakfast was badly needed. The veterans of this event had planned a perfect stop at a small-town diner. Delicious waffles and the first wave of reinforcements were welcome treats.

My next assignment as laid out by agreement and the binders full of maps, instruction, and fun, found in each car was to get the reinforcements, M, to her first leg, and then to pick up D so we could spend the day waiting for our legs together that afternoon.

I knew going in that waiting was going to be a large part of the experience and so I tried to incorporate that into my plan. The first daylight waiting with M was perfect. We rocked the binder fun pages until she spotted our team on the trail. I went galloping after them and then we made a successful transition.

Tune in next time for dam napping, goose chasing, and possibly the exciting conclusion...

Looks like I remember it

American Teen seems to be a suitable substitute for a high school reunion*. High school seems the same, only now with more text messages.

Here are three fun memories that seeing this movie dredged up:

-the thanks, but no thanks college rejection letter

-the obsession with finding a date, particularly to dances (before I actually liked to dance).

-the incredibly unhelpful things that parents can say when they are trying to be helpful

Here are three interesting scenarios that seeing this movie brought to my attention:

-I really don't know what else parents could have said.

-Wow. High schoolers are filled with optimism that this theater audience did not share.

-I wonder how my life would be different if I'd felt pressure to choose a school based on a sports scholarship.

*I haven't made it to a reunion yet, so that's not an informed statement.