Chasing Wally

There is so much absurdity packed neatly into this photo. Some would call it downright loopy. For starters, there is the man (in the forefront) dressed straight out of a consignment shop catalog – outdated plaid shirt and tie, taped together glasses and equally incongruous plaid shorts. Oh, by the way, he’s running in an 8-hour ultramarathon. Also, by the way! That’s a watermelon strapped to his chest. In a clear backpack. Worn backwards (a frontpack?). And then, for kickers, you have a truly insane looking older guy (in tube socks, no less), gesturing maniacally at the consignment shop runner guy with the watermelon strapped to his chest. Did I say loopy? Yes, loopy. This was the Sweltering Summer Ultramarathon, an 8-hour fixed time affair on a sandy dirt track (measuring at 0.3553 of a mile) at Clapp Park in Pittsfield, MA. I’ve done this race for the past 10 years. The watermelon – his name is Wally, by the way – covered a remarkable 64 laps, carried by numerous members of the Clapp Park family of walkers, joggers, etc. I was not one of them (Wally enablers, that is). Each of my painstakingly slow 104 laps was covered using my ever slower powers of ambulation. Wally was ahead of me on this lap, but overall I stayed on the track longer than he (it?) did. I’m glad I did. It’s the one race I do every year, and I’m grateful to be able to do it still. OK!