Raw terror stalks 366 in Derry 16M

Garrett (1:32:31) outskids Garcia

Derry, NH

January 25, 1998

Exclusive to CR from the The Hockomock Swamp Rat.

We're talking varsity pain here.
Like a full forehead noogie from Mike Tyson.
Like intervals with Cosmos Ndeti.
Like a root canal with no Novocain.
Like the Greater Derry Tracks Club's 16-mile road race.

So, Bonzie, you think that Stu's 30K in Clinton is tough? Or maybe the Wilton Up-The-Side-Of-The Mountain 10-miler? Hah! (and double hah!). That stuff is tea and crumpets with Alastaire Cooke compared the raw savagery that transpired on this bone-chilling morning in southern New Hampshire.The Derry 16 is the hardest non-marathon road course in New England. Tell me it ain't. Bet your rutabagas that it is. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Dr. Jack Kevorkian stuff . . . athletic suicide . . .but unassisted.

Let's start with the hills. You can count them, but you'd need all your pretty pink appendages and then some. The worst is the treacherous haul to the top of 'Antenna Mountain' (there's a TV tower up there) at miles 12-13. If the straight-up killer at 11 hasn't fully softened you for 'the antenna,' then the myriad of rolls in the first 10 miles perhaps might have done it better. Ow!

Now let's talk about the black ice.

Bug-eyed, flailing-armed runners were dropping faster than Bermuda shorts at a nudist colony. Bam! There goes poor Will Graustein of Harwinton, CT down to all fours. Kersplat!! Oops, same story for Scott Caldwell of Manville, RI. Both quality runners looking up at the sky. Yoweeeee!!!! Look at this one! Wow, some guy wiped out and took two other runners with him in a pig pile. Looks like fun - maybe not. And some stuff certainly was not funny. One runner hit so hard that he ended up in the hospital.

"He wiped out totally, knocked his head hard, then got up and started racing again - in the wrong direction," said eye witness Peter Brook (SRR, Somerville, MA).

The hard-racing Brook, though, stayed erect. His secret? "On ice, you must run the downhills as hard as you can. Don't even TRY to slow down, that's when you fall."

Hmmmm, I think I'll pass up that racing tip, thank you.

Times were utterly atrocious, even way up front (where the guys with the skinny heinies roam), with only Jim Garrett (CMS, Bennington, VT) breaking 6's. Jim Garcia (CMS, Westford, MA) would have been under 6's save for an unfortunate incident at an impromptu pit stop.

"Damn, my toilet paper blew away," said the indestructable ultra animal. "I tried to chase it down, but . . ."

Hey, Jim, we don't wanna know. On to more tasteful stuff.

The women's field was weakened considerably when sixth place male Ed Parrot of Derby, CT left the missus home, she being the former Connecticut studette Dana Goldfarb. In Dana's absence, the gonfalon passed to veteran Peg Donovan of Auburn, NH, proving that even though you're 43 and a woman, your athletic life can still be primo in the extremo. Not many guys want to train with Peg. Pat Dalconzo (NMC, Lancaster, MA) gave chase to Donovan, but had to settle for a windblown and icy second.

And speaking of ice, how about Hank Gediman's outfit? Brrrrrrrr! The CSU 50-plusser went naked-shanked in the tubercular chill (and with micro-sized shorts, too). He somehow survived to finish second to Jerry Rosa (GLRR) in that division. His pre-race ingestion of two ibuprofen tablets may have been the key. Most folks were dressed as if they were trekking to Murmansk. Gediman certainly has Eskimo genes in there someplace.

This was race #10 in the 20-race Hockomock Swamp Rat 1997-98 Grand Pricks Series to determine the toughest runner in New England. The aforenoted Garcia (who eventually used a fistful of SNOW as toilet paper) still holds a paper-thin lead over the Newton, Mass. postman Gediman and Fitchburg's Paul McDermott. McDermott, running injured, took a big bonk in the labonza in the 60+ race, getting zapped by both 67-year old Ray Pickell of Bellingham and 66-year old Dana (The Eternal) Sumner of Tiverton, RI.

The post-race scene at the Derry Boys and Girls Club was fecund to the nth degree, with the hosting GDTC (broken-armed Jeff Litchfield in charge) providing hot soup, hot chili and tons of other snazzy stuff. Race stories were swapped (none included PR's), tall tales were told, spandex was observed and duly noted, and we all pulled ourselves together for the trip home.

And the best race story? How about Janet Jordan's (CRR, Abington, MA): "So, I'm trucking along at 10 miles, look up and see a guy standing behind the full-length glass door of his porch, intently watching the race."

Big deal, Janet, that's bo-ring.

"But, he wasn't wearing anything."

Oh.

Official Race Song: "Blood On The Tracks," Bob Dylan, 1969.