Anne Marie Winchester ending the day just north of Keene NH.

“Sometimes you win,

sometimes you lose,

sometimes it rains.”

-Ebby Calvin “Nuke” LaLoosh

My father taught me, “when life gives you lemons, whine and complain that your brother got a moped and all you got was some crummy lemons.”

I spent the past two nights writing this journal entry and then deleted it by mistake. Idiot. Even Fast Billy Scheffer, the Microsoft-savant guy that can fix anything computer-like couldn’t help. You know what I mean. Everyone has someone like him around. So here I go again…

We have encountered a bit of a navigation snafu (Jason gives me 5 cents for every fancy word I use). Bob Myette, my roommate last and this year is one of our support crew and today he is behind the wheel of the RV. Bob is a lethal combination of being both enamored with electronic gadgets as well as unable to even FIND the big red ‘ON’ button with a map and two flashlights. Upon starting our day of running, he immediately entered into our GPS our day’s final waypoint destination which is the address of our hotel for that night. The problem with this is the GPS system wants to take us on the most direct route. The most direct route is not our running route. Seems Captain Ron has a problem with runners and bikers on super highways. Like the kids say, he’s so old school. Getting back to Bobby, he keeps listening to the lady say turn and he keeps turning. >From the back seat, I feel the turn and remind him about the “straight ahead” directions. He gets back on route. The nice lady in the box recalculates and tells him to make the next turn. He does. I correct him. Again. Now, please help me save typing by going back 6 sentences and reading them over and over FIVE TIMES! I finally realized what he was doing, pulled out the nice lady in the box’s umbilical cord and hid her amidst my sweaty clothes bag. From then on we had no incidents from the navigationally-challenged Mr. Myette.

Sometimes we run, sometimes we bike, sometimes we eat candy. Today, we had a hard day. There were only three TREKers to cover 152 miles. Although we could have run in the dark, it was neither safe nor necessary to “prove it all night” as The Boss would say (Billy gives me 5 cents for every music reference I make). So in addition to our daily run, we biked.

I like cycling. But I wish that today we were TREKing through something with a nickname other than ‘The Green Mountain State’. Maybe we can find which one is ‘The Flat State’ for next time. What I don’t like is signs that have a picture of a truck going uphill that says ‘15% grade’. I also have a certain level of distain for ‘emergency stop turn-off ramp ahead’, ‘check brakes NOW’ and of course my personal least-favorite ‘no shoulder’. They are all not good. But here it is. Staring up at Mt. Ohmygosh is me, my bike, and my biking bibs/shorts. I look like a cross between George “The Animal” Steele and “King Kong” Bundy of wrestling fame. Not even Matthew McConaughey could look good in those skintight, skimpy things. Actually, this is one of the many things that Matt and I have in common. But that is for another time. I must now wrestle with this steep, long incline.

I get up out of my seat and commence what will become a 2.5 mile steep uphill, lactic acid producing, dizzying effort to see if I can conquer this beast. My breathing becomes labored to the point of my mouth drying and lips chapping. I now get to experience nature. Ahhh, the wonders of life at their finest. Actually, it is at this juncture that I notice a pair of vultures circling above me and hear them discussing which one is going to get the drumsticks. They won’t get me! Next, I encounter the universal New England state bird, the Black Fly. Biking at less than 4 miles per hour, the gnat-wannabees take advantage of my speed, or lack thereof, and I get mouthful after mouthful of them. While I appreciate the protein, a peanut butter and salami sandwich is more what I had in mind.

After verbally challenging the mountain in a Joe Versus the Volcano moment, I come to the realization that I would either A) get to the top; B) get to the end of my mileage requirement, or C) implode and meet The Lord. I push on to the top. Finally, I crest the summit and can catch a little of my breath. Now, boys and girls, you may be thinking what goes up must come down. He’s got it easy. He’s got it made. He’s got smooth sailing from here. Au contraire, my friends.

Before I can even realize it, I am barreling down the mountain at high speed. Suddenly thrust into sheer terror mode, I figure the horror of the motorists in the cars passing me is not a Kodak, but a ‘honey, quick, hide the children’s eyes!’ moment. Imagine seeing a 215 pound guy on a 2 pound bicycle barreling down the highway at 40.5 mph with tires thinner than Bob Myette’s wallet when the dinner check comes to the table. For an added level of difficulty, the road is being repaved and they have just graded the macadam. The sign says ‘scarified road ahead’. Good description. I am scared out of my spandex. There is a kind of leave-your-judgement-at-the-door, ignore-the-uberfear (yes, that IS a word, Jason – I just made it up…nickel please) that you have, just go for it panic-laden fright. Throwing sanity, er, caution, um, intelligence to the wind, I get in a tucked position and hold on for the white-knuckled ride to the bottom. And another thing – I don’t know why I am wearing a helmet. I guess I just want to be a good example to my kids. But seriously, at this speed, a helmet is not protection. I can picture myself, G-d forbid, hitting a seam in the road in my skimpy outfit, still clipped in to my pedals, dragging my bike behind me careening and skidding across the highway, sparks-a-flyin’. I think the helmet would serve little help in the protection department. It would probably only end up being a good way to keep my head intact enough so my next of kin could identify my body.

We almost always stay in very nice, if not otherwise fancy-ish hotel. Tonight, not so much. We arrive at a motor lodge in New London, New Hampshire. It is a quaint town with such nice people at the front desk. However; the rooms are reminiscent of life in the cold war era Soviet Union. The sheets and towels were no more than 7- or 8-thread count. The pillows and mattresses so old that the stuffing is now sawdust. There was a note taped to the wall where the thermostat SHOULD have been that said there was no temperature control, please call the office for ‘help’. The ‘help’ was the desk lady saying that the maintenance guy would be in later. I wrapped myself in toilet paper to keep warm and crashed for the night only to awaken freezing cold in the morning. Apparently when the maintenance guy gets there each night, it is to SHUT OFF the steam for the heat. Conserves hot water, you know. Which also, for those of you scoring at home, means no hot water for the shower. To be showering at five in the morning is bad enough. Doing it with cold water is worse. But the piece de resistance was that the shower was so small I had to stand outside, soap the walls, and then get in and spin around – a trick I learned from my buddy David years ago when I weighed over 300 pounds. Had I still been at that level of morbid obesity, it would have been a trip to the autospray truck wash for me. Just for the record, be careful where you apply the engine degreaser. The final surprise was a man’s worst nightmare…NO REMOTE FOR THE TV! I know, I know, guys – take a deep breath. I calmed myself down, regrouped mentally, and pulled the bed across the room so I could reach the TV during a sleeping position.

After 2 days of 50 miles of biking and running, my tushie is swollen like I have two softballs behind me. My TREK teammate Bobby Ell, a great guy, great runner and great cyclist gives me some advice when he sees that I can’t sit straight up due to the pain. When I ask him what to do to ease the pain, he says, “just wait until it goes numb and you won’t feel a thing. I do. It does. I am once again excited for the next day.

But in the end, we were safe, happy, and further on our journey. Straight ahead!

See you on the road,

Larry

PS: If you liked reading this, please let me know by donating $8.88 more to our fight against childhood obesity. You can probably find that in your car’s ashtray. If not, look in Martha’s ashtray. I love that I married a rich woman who doesn’t smoke.

Click the following link to help…

http://www.active.com/donate/trekusa/larryherman

Great weekend. 

I hope everyone still on the road enjoys the adventure. It was great to meet everyone. I wish I could have done the 10 days and gotten to know you all better. 

As a TREK 04 Veteran, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to run and laugh again with fellow Vets, Bill Lapsley, Bob Whirty and Dave McGillivray. Oh … and how could I forget Captain Cosmo Kramer. 

Ron, you’ve changed over the past four years, and so forth. Four years ago your navigation plan was “forget the GPS … FOLLOW THE MAP!” This year it was “FORGET THE MAP … follow the GPS!”  Same results … We still got lost.   It was great to see you. 

Bob Ell … glad you got to experience the some of what you missed four years ago. 

Karen and Julie … thanks for the laughs on the last day. Only Larry could rival your running fashion.

Fred, thanks for the support, once again. I love the shoes. you may have a convert from Asics.

Here are a few photos from the weekend. Not as ambitious as 04, but they are still memories.

Thanks again, and good luck to all …

Bob

Bob Lussier, TREK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Big thank you to Miss Sheehan and her class for all of the support!!!  Your support helps us keep running!

TREK USA 2008 

Fred Doyle the Vice President of Saucony gives a big shout out to the kids of Students Run Philly Style and the girls of Fit Girls!

TREK USA New England Relay

Day 1 – May 9, 2008

Start:  BAA Boston Marathon Finish Line – Boston, MA

Finish: Beach to Beacon 10k Finish Line – Cape Elizabeth, ME

Wicked Fast Runnah

After a good night’s sleep peppered with episodes of waking up from excitement, I find myself toeing the FINSH line of the oldest, most prestigious marathon course in the world.  The Boston Marathon is the only one I know of that requires you to qualify at another marathon.  You must run REALLY fast just to have the privilege of running again here.  It is so sacred among runners that it is referred to by one word…Boston.  As in “I qualified for Boston”, “I’m training for Boston”, “I’m running Boston.”

It is my dream and goal in this sport to one day qualify.  As of today I am not close.  At all.  I would have to run a marathon 1 ½ hours faster than I ever have to do this.  But I keep doing my best.  Also, it is less for women  and every 5 years, the age group qualifying times go down a bit and.  Like 5 minutes.  Hmmph.

Last year I was running in the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, TN.  At mile 16, I remarked to the a fella I was running with that all I needed to do to qualify for Boston was maintain the pace that I was on until I turned 80…and change genders.  At that point an elderly lady passed me and said, “It’s not that easy, sonny!”  True story.

So, with little fanfare, photographer Lily Feria snapping away and support biker Captain Ron Kramer leading the way, off I went.  True to form, I went out too fast.  Now every runner knows not to start too fast; for it almost certainly means implosion later in the run.  For me, that means fast now, sssssllllooowwww in a few days.  After all, this is 1,300+ miles.  Anyway, last year I averaged 14-15 minutes per mile.  This year, it is 10-11.  I guess losing 35 pounds and weight-training every day does that.  Now, all these Boston-based TREKkers are saying that this year I am a wicked fast runnah.

My opening leg took me on part of the Olympic Ladies’ Marathon Trial Course.  This meant going over the Mass Ave Bridge.  This bridge is measured in ‘Smoots’.  All along the bridge, there is the measurement painted on the concrete of how many Smoots have gone by.  The MIT Lambda Chi Alpha pledges repaint it every year.  Why Smoots?  What is a Smoot?  Well, it seems that in 1958, Lambda picked Oliver Smoot because he was the shortest member and his name sounded ‘scientific’.  At 5’7” tall, they laid him down, and marked off how many Smoots the bridge measured.  It is now well-known in Boston that the Mass Ave Bride measures 364.4 smoots…and one ear.

For most Boston Marathon runners, seeing the giant Citgo sign means 1.5 miles to go.  For me it means 1,302.5 miles to go.  Oh well.  I gots me some new shoes!

So off I go on another adventure.  Running, biking, and traveling with a bunch of fine folks.  Today I meet 2 new runners to TREK that will run with Director, Billy “The Coach” Sheehan from last year and me.  They are both intimidating great runners.

Julie is a fast, incomprehensibly friendly, supermodel-looking attorney who has completed 38 or so marathons.  And so modest that I had to draw that out of her.  If she only owned a Ferrari dealership, she’d be BAR-BAR-BAR.  But BAR-BAR-7 is pretty much at the top of most any list I ever saw.  So, I retained her.  I figure I’m due for a lawsuit soon, anyway.

We also were honored with Karen.  Karen is impressively fast.  Impressively attractive.  Impressively intelligent.  Impressively bright.  That was until halfway through the day when I found out that she was 15+ years older than I would have guessed!  And lemme tell you that most people don’t usually get dolled up for a relay run to hell and back.  She kicks butt in all kinds of races…wins some…age group awards…Ironman competitions…wow! 

I thought last year’s collection of dead animals (not really, Martha, they may have been stuffed) was bad.  Today’s theme is skunk-de-li-icios.  Holy moley the RV still smells from the slew of dead Pepe le Pews we ran by.

We also ended by all running the Beach to Beacon Race in beautiful Cape Elizabeth, Maine.  It is the great Joan Benoit’s race.  She was going to run with us but is injured.  It was great, anyway.  We had police escorts and the royal treatment.

What an awesome start.  Only 1,233,155.82 smoots to go!

Larry

PS: If you haven’t yet, please donate to help this cause I am running for.  Together, we can change the minds and lives of our children to be healthier and happier.  Any amount helps.  If you have already donated…DO IT AGAIN!

Click the following link to help…

http://www.active.com/donate/trekusa/larryherman

 

TREK runner Karen Durante charges forward heading north towards our Day 2 destination of Augusta Maine.  

It’s 4:30AM at the beginning of Day 3 of the TREK New England run. The Team

has run 287 miles in the last 48 hours, and has about 1,068 to go.

Yesterday’s run included some long, steep hills through the Maine

countryside. They were challenging, but that’s what TREK is all about.

It is always fun to hear people’s reactions when we tell them who we are and

what we are doing. Most of them just can’t believe that every runner runs

15-20 miles one day, and then gets up again the next day to do it all over

again!

Thanks to everyone supporting us with phone calls, emails, donations and

cookies from home.

OH yeah, and most important…a big HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY from everyone on

TREK!!!

Billy Sheehan, Managing Director

Here is a sign to us from along the route!

Ron Kramer on the bike and Billy Sheehan running through his hometown of Revere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Members of TREK USA pause for a team photo at the Cape Elizabeth Light House at the end of day one.

From left to right: Debbie Sheehan, Karen Durante, Bob Lussier, Billy Sheehan, Bob Whirty, Bob Myette, Larry Herman, Dave McGillivray, Ron Kramer, Julie Moore, Bill Lapsley, Fred Doyle, Bob Ell, Lily Feria, Anita Reibel and Harvey Reibel.