Regionals pt. II

So yesterday I realized that I had totally forgotten to share how my last xc race actually went. Here’s a review (with pictures this time!).

Here I’m about 300 meters from the finish line. I ended up finishing at 28:14, tying my PR from Paul Short. At first I was a little upset to have missed PRing by so little. But in a way, it’s appropriate. It’s like I proved that I was performing at maximum capacity in both of those races. Or slacking off in both. We’ll say the former.

Classy guy, right? Here I am in my post-race glory, smoking a cigar. I don’t often smoke cigars (and never cigarettes for obvious reasons) but it’s a tradition for the men’s team to have one after their final xc race, as a salute to the end of four wonderful years.

Being sentimental, I knew from my freshmen year that I would one day smoke a cigar on an xc course. Being a writer, I love symbols. Being nuts, I love ritual.

All in all, that cigar tasted pretty sweet.

Pact

Two weeks ago (in the height of my academic craziness) I went down to DC to participate in our conference race. I had a pretty crappy race, but not crappy enough to knock me out of the top 7 on my team. Which means that I’m going to regionals at Lehigh (yay!) this upcoming Saturday.

It also means that I have a chinstrap. As in a strip of hair that runs from one ear, along the ridge of my jaw, to the other ear.

How are those two ideas connected? Well, as the team sat on the bus, dubiously eyeing the course meant to hold our conference meet, we entered a pact. Each man that made it to Regionals (that is, the top 7 on the team) wouldn’t be able to shave until then. It was one of those dumb things teams do for good luck, like growing matching Mohawks or not washing their uniforms or somesuch.

I was a little leery of the idea, since my own beard is so sparse when I let it grow out (which is never). More importantly, I also have to look relatively clean for teaching. My observers don’t tolerate scruffiness.

A decent compromise was found in the aforementioned chin strap. It’s a bit scraggly, and it’ll have to go after Regionals is done. For the first time since I began growing it, though, I think I’m going to miss it.

P.S. Not for the first time, I wish I had a digital camera so that you guys could truly appreciate what I’m describing. Ah, well.

Broad What? pt. II

As promised, here are the pics taken during year 1 of The Annual Roomate Piggyback Relay. These are the work of our lovely ladyrunners, who, as if they weren’t busy enough questioning their relationships with us, managed to immortalize the event.

Here we can see Highsocks (whose socks happened to be curiously low that evening) carrying me across the field- just to make sure that it’s possible.

And here are the men, united in brotherhood for one last moment before we go to war.

Highsocks and I, steeling ourselves for the race, warmed only by our unnaturally bright sportswear.

And finally, the race proper. The neck-in-neck, ruthless battle for glory. Note the blurring effect of their speed.

Highsocks and I, 100 meters behind the actual competition. No blur whatsoever.

So what did we learn, everyone? When it comes to piggyback racing, never pair the weakest kid with the heaviest. It usually ends in things going awry.