Sometimes magic just…happens.
In this instance. The magic happened on our favorite pub run course. Probably on one of the first Thursdays of the month that we run there officially. Or any of the other days that we run there unofficially.
I’m not sure I was there when this idea was being birthed. I may have been. But I definitely wasn’t paying enough attention to remember who threw it out there first.
May have been Bropunzel. Maybe GJB. Maybe Finn’s Dad.
Whoever it’s mother, it had a pretty quick gestational period.
Because one day I was hearing murmurings of a 50k at Chaos Mountain Brewery. And the next, I was responding to an event invite.
One minute I was suggesting using Venmo to collect aid station donations. And the next, I was smack in the middle of the organizer group chat.
I didn’t really jump in on that part much. Except to occasionally update donation amounts.
Mostly I watched conversations like this unfold:
“I have 9 of these.”
“Are they double sided?”
“So 9 right turns?”
“They are reversible you poor young man.”
Speaking of those 9 right turns, I never did see those arrows. And you’ll see the reason why this is important I’m my follow up post. Chaos 50k: The Aftermath
Finn’s Dad charmed Chaos Brewery to wake up early on a Saturday morning and open at 7am. So we wouldn’t be tempted to just pee in the parking lot.
Because we would. Ultra runners will definitely just pee in the parking lot.
100 Miler designed the…well they ended up becoming stickers.
That really should be on a shirt, though.
GJB spent minutes upon minutes created loosely, though somewhat inadequately personalized race bibs for the 50kers.
I’m just saying. My Mountain Miserious bib was way more entertaining.
JC offered up his driveway for the aid station and his bathroom for the more proper among us. Because he lives at the halfway point. At the top of the mountain.
And we started gathering. Some of us at 5am. Some at 7am. And others throughout the day.
Each of us running our own race.
Some running the same direction every loop. Some switching up directions every loop.
Some running the 6 loops for a full 50k. Some walking a single loop.
Some running solo. Some running in pairs.
And we’d shout out to people we hadn’t seen in months. Over a year. Stop and chat from opposite sides of the road. Take photos. Cheer each other on. Our own built in on course cheerleaders.
So excited to be out there. Running a race. Together. Again. Finally.
But we were all. Every one of us. Excited and fully motivated by the aid station. The aid station of all aid stations. The aid station by which all future aid stations will be judged. The aid station that will cause us, in every future race, to look at every other aid station with disappointment. And just shake our heads in disgust. And go “psht.”
It was Everyone’s Favorite Husband who was elected Aid Station Developer. Which was a solid choice. Because…
Those are…chafing dishes…Right? I mean, I’ve never used chafing dishes before. But I’m pretty sure I’ve heard people say the words “chafing dish” while pointing at things that looked like those. And I was definitely wearing strappy heels when that happened.
Bacon. Tater tots. Hot chicken broth. Coffee with hazelnut liqueur.
And everything placed in little individual cups. Because Covid.
And that was just one section.
There was also this whole other section over here.
And we probably didn’t just nest there. For minutes at a time. In front of the heater.
And as we finished up our race. Whatever distance we chose. We’d head into the brewery for a beer. Or three.
(I recommend the My Wife’s Fat Ass or the Cocoborealis)
I mean, there were apples. I think because the brewery probably thinks we’re kinda healthy. Because people have these weird preconceived notions about runners.
But there were cookies.
And some of us had to dip out early. Because dog mom. But there was a fire. And football. And all of the socializing.
And Winner is assembling all of the stats for everyone. Because he has one of those brains that doesn’t shut down when presented with numbers.
And I suspect this will eventually become an annual event.
But even if it doesn’t. I’ll definitely run it again anyway.
And if you’re one of those number people looking for specs. According to my Strava, each loop is 5.3 miles. With 617 ft of elevation. All road/gravel. And a whole brewery of deliciousness at the end.