Yeah, yeah. I know. I KNOW. Last night I DID wind up at Pizza Ranch. I just couldn’t resist. So, yeah, I had more than a few Tuscan Roma thin crust slices… and a few BBQ Chicken, Mac and Cheese, Dessert Pizzas, some cranberry salad… hey, I had salad… that’s healthy-ish!
I finally made it to the Indianhead Motel around 9:30 PM. Driving through the dark, misty Hurley, WI, I was struck by how bummed I was that I was going to be able to spend more time there. It was a quintessential “this-is-just-how-I-pictured-it!” upper Mid-West town. There were more bars on Main Street than parking spaces. I didn’t want to take time to snap pics as I was coming in as the motel had a strict 10 PM check in time. As it was, I wound up barging into someone’s living room that I *thought* was the main office… they were very nice, a family with kids running ragged and the mom sipping a whiskey sour. She pointed me in the right direction – turns out I was looking for the huge Indianhead Motel Office sign.
Ah, well.
With a 4:15 AM wake-up alarm, I slept terribly. Weird dreams about a serial killer hunting me, only I was a cop with a partner who didn’t believe me… where that came from I’m not entirely sure. On the flight to MSP I watched a Buster Keaton “talkie” comedy from 1931… nary a serial killer in sight on that one.
This is a weird stream of consciousness post for a variety of reasons:
To cut the rental car costs, I rushed back from the race to the airport so I was only charged for one day (thus saving me a whopping $12 that I used for a slightly better lunch than I normally do on the road – so no $4 combo at Wendy’s or the dollar menu at BK today). But I had forgotten Delta had ages ago changed my flight time home to an hour later, so now I’m sitting in the airport killing time. I’m hesitant to have any dinner as I submitted an upgrade request and fingers crossed I’d like a comp’d meal from the airline rather than paying $10 for a sandwich here in the food court.
Lugging a box filled with clothes and books from LA to re-check on Delta proved… unwieldy. I eventually got it there but I had put everything into an old HP printer box I had and the prior baggage handlers ripped the perforated hand holds on the box. God only knows if the thing will make it to MCO intact. I debated about stopping to buy packing tape to reseal the handles but ultimately decided to let fate choose whether that stuff gets moved or not.
As for the run itself, it was as if I was running the moors of Scotland… if Scotland was in the upper mid west of the USA. Misty soup hung in the air from the time I left my hotel until, really, the time I drove out of Wisconsin and back into Minnesota. It made for a moody, damp run.
The “sights” therefore were mostly obscured by cloud cover, but I did snap a few pics along the way.
I cross posted this over on Facebook, but when somebody rings a bell for you – ANY bell, be it cow or service, or in this case, a “Let Freedom Ring” bell – ESPECIALLY when somebody rings a “Let Freedom Ring Bell” for you – you should say thank you. I think the guy was freaked out that I stopped to snap a selfie but it’s just what you do, ya know?
A woman with Bib # 2 was struggling around mile 23 and I asked if she was okay. She looked to be near tears and told me, “No…” and as I slowed to find out what was up, she waved me off telling me not to stop. Sometimes runners just need to do things alone and in their own way… but she looked really bad. As I took off down the road, I mentioned to spectators and aid stations to keep an eye out for her and cheer her on extra hard.
Rounding into the home stretch, I did snap a few photos of the various bars on Main Street. Seriously, there’s a LOT of alcohol flowing in the Mid-West. I suspect it’s to warm oneself on cold winter days… and to cool oneself on warm summer day… and to cheer oneself on damp, Moorish days. So basically, it’s a place where Prohibition probably never seemed more than a “nope, not doing THAT…”
In the end, a spectator at the top of a tough, tough hill around mile 24 told me I was 10th overall. I don’t know what place I wound up with – it was a just under 3:30 race for me. I felt okay, just tired and, well, damp. The race results were only posted up through the top two and they were around 2:30 (!!). Perhaps the best part of the finish line festivity was that I had to go into a bar pick up my medal and finisher shirt. That’s one way to increase foot traffic for your business!
Ambling back to my car, I saw Bib # 2 resting on the curb, her foot iced heavily, and she was smiling amongst her friends. I checked on her and she said she was pretty sure her foot was broken or at least a stress fracture. I told her to get another beer but that I was glad to see her smiling. Runner are a stubborn lot… we all acknowledge the smart thing would’ve been to stop but we were all glad she kept going. Enablers are a dangerous crowd to run with. I should know… I’m a Lt. Colonel in the Enabler Army.
One last side note – a Hurley-ian pointed out to me the abnormally tall street signs. She told me this was because in winter when the street plows come through town twice every day, the snow drifts are so high that ALL the signs have to be built to a higher spec.
I got cold just thinking about that.
Meanwhile, here I am at the finish marker on the streets of Hurley. It’s nice to see a town embrace their event.
