4 on the 4th

My race started out with a pub crawl (ok package store run) to find some Carlson Craft Brew for an after race pint or two for all, only to find that Town Line Wine and Spirits in North Branford was robbed.
I don’t know if the target was their stock of CCB or money, but since I’m writing this report, it was some CCB Vete Ol (why not, that was my target) (just the same, packie closed). Shortly after, I pass Ultra’s car parked at Cockaponset and knowing that he doesn’t drink, means that he’s an unlikely culprit. Just up Route 148, I pass Scoobie and Gutherie trekking up a hill. Their bikes lack panniers, and there aren’t any bottles of brew in their hands, so they either drank the stock or are just out for a ride.

I arrive in Chester with enough time to register but fear I’m in the same condition I was on Wednesday night (even though I stretched), with painful knee joints and back, so opt to run as a viking (same as bandit, but my ancestral heritage is viking and clansman, so if I’m going to pillage, I’m doing it as a viking). Coincidentally, MPN is running as a bandit/handler of young Erica, so I tag along.

We gather in the herd toward the back and were joined by IGGY. The ladies decide it’s a kick the guy’s butts day, so their goal is set. MPN and I hope just to get through it.

The gun sounds and we’re off. Ah, a flat course, actually slight downhill, relief.

Our pack of four sticks together for a half mile. Then, what’s this, who put this hill on this flat course? Well, we lose IGGY at the top while Erica looks for her wind and IGGY had found her legs. Things are working fairly well for both of the guy’s. My knees aren’t bothering me. Po is fine, and we spend our time looking (only slightly) back for Erica, protecting her from the masses, fetching her water (ok, guiding her into the water stops), etc.

Mile two comes up for us three, and Po says our splits are good. Where do these uphill undulations keep coming from? Still looking back for Erica who can’t find her father (Bob) anywhere on the course (he’s golfing), so she doesn’t have a target.

We approach the sort of cul-de-sac section around mile three where the leaders share the other side of the road for about 100-yards, and I decide to drop off and cheer the Peanut on.

First comes SilentRunner. Several minutes, the Peanut. Several more, IGGY, Some more, where did the Baron come from? Then my gang. Ah, fresh legs and some actual downhill for the final half mile.

As we approach the Chester Library, this adorable, sweet teenager finds her target and it is MPN and me, as she burns a ton of rubber-smoke in our faces. Po and I are forced from the course.

Though Po and I aren’t allowed to finish we find Lucy, Guthrie and Scoobie, and Sandy there to cheer our gang of BSer’s on.

Everyone mingles a bit with each other and other’s we know, all while I’m trying to make my way toward the beer truck. But the sign says, NO BEER. NOOOOooooo!

IGGY states she’s got a cold six of CCB in her refrigerator. But no invite. Damn, still no CCB. Saturday Vete Ol, I’ll have some yet.