When I got the email showing me that Sandy and Joe had donated to the Ty Taylor Campship fund - http://www.ymcacampmiller.org/donate/ty-taylor-campship-endowment/, and Sandy asked for a dedication to Joe's new retirement, I knew I had a run for him.
In any case, this run is for my Uncle Joe! If you'd like a dedicated run, donate to the cause and help kids go to camp in the name of a dear friend.
The rest of the run was uneventful. I'm hoping my Crip Road runs will be less exciting when I get back to the lake this summer to celebrate with my wonderful aunt and uncle. Thanks for the donation!
The Squirrel 5 Miler.
I figure old retired guys must spend a lot of time on the porch in their rocking chairs watching the squirrels, right? Or feeding them? Or rigging up electric perches to shock the hell out them when they try to get all of the birdseed from the feeder?
The run started just after 5am, with my frequent running partner, Scott. He normally prefers a different 5 miler, (The Scott W 5 Miler, his name for it, not mine) but he was willing to cooperate in the dedicated run with me. One interesting thing about Scott, is that he hates street dogs. A lot. Because, you know, rabies...It was only a short time into our run when the first ones appeared and may or may not have made a move toward him. The cursing began, primarily directed at the dogs, but also at me (under his breath).
His tolerance of my routes continued as I coaxed him onto the dark path that runs along a sewage canal storm drain (not too stinky today, btw). More dogs, more cursing, increased pace.
As we turned left to begin the squirrel's head (about 1.5 miles in), we noticed monkeys. "Monkeys on your right!" Scott yelled. I weaved left. "And on your left!" I screeched to a halt just as a steady stream of monkey urine poured out of the tree above me. I turned around fully expecting what I was about to hear. I conceded to Scott's (reasonable) insistence to skip that section. So, Uncle Joe, you get a squirrel with half a head (see below).
We stuck it out and continued to the second dark path along the same sewage canal storm drain. No dogs, but I did have to slam on the brakes again as I almost ran smack into a makeshift clothesline right at my eye-level. Whether Scott thought I was attacked by a dog, or urinated on by a monkey, I'm not sure. What is certain is that there was more cursing. And maybe some urine, but not from a monkey.
RUN STATS
Distance: 5.05 miles
Duration: 46:09
Temperature: 68 degrees at 5:58am
Soundtrack: Midnight Marauders-Tribe Called Quest (RIP Phife Dog)
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