Grouse Grind Report: June 13, 2007
A Grouse Grind Report
June 13, 2007
(Reuter)
As is usual for a Wednesday, the Grouse Grind Gang met for lemonade and Goldeneye at Roggles's house, prior to another assault on the Mountain. Dan was first to arrive, after a hard day's work at the Vancouver Courier. The sweat was barely off his brow when Roggles arrived next (despite it being his house). He had been enjoying a lemony tea at a nearby lemony tea shoppe. His tea obsession was stretching out of control, and an intervention was not long in coming. Dave arrived next, driving up in his brand new sweet ride with Pirate and Gned in tow. Gned had them all in stiches as they ate their cold french fries explaining how unamused he was that they had stolen his wallet, and they he would really like it back because he needed it. Little did Gned know, but the wallet was actually in the garbage bin at the local McDonalds where he had accidentally disposed it after finishing his mustardless hamburgers.
Oaf and Ian arrived next, walking up from the beach where they had enjoyed a spirited game of hack-ball with the darkly murmuring Bear, who had been thoroughly bested, along with his partner Robby Burns. Nutmilk, Rasputin, and Karri were the next arrivals, having just had their toes painted. Rasputin, though initially reluctant to participate, became enthusiastic after being told that he could have the Italian flag. Nutmilk showed off the impressive floral design with her open-toed sandals and was heard to say "I surely do not like wearing socks!"
Roggles won the first game of Goldeneye, as Dan spent the entire ten minutes shooting at Gned despite Gned repeatedly assuring him that they were actually teammates. Pirate left shortly into game two when he ran out of Pirate Cookies, only to return with an empty bag, a sore belly, and a sheepish grin.
As the tournament excitedly progressed, Dave finally realized that Roggles's round-robin calculations were not scalable to such a large group, and that they were nowhere near ready to head to the grind. Quiety pensive, Dave looked over at the clock and saw that it was 11pm and far too late for grinding. Dave gestured at a crouching Gned, but Gned simply shrugged and muttered "The grind is stupid anyway."
But two grinders never got Gned's memo and did participate in the first grind of the season: Snowy Cat and Gilman.
After waiting in the parking lot for an interminable length of time for their 15 absent friends to arrive, Snowy and Gilman headed to the base of the trail for a quick bout of PB stretching. Without Gned in attendance, there was no need to pretend to need 10 minutes, so after only two minutes, Snowy said "Let's roll!" This decision would have dire consequences.
Snowy had lost his watch yet again and was forced to rely on Gilman's generosity to time him. Gilman reluctantly assented.
The race began with Gilman charging ahead. What adventures befell him after that point are not known to this correspondent. As for Snowy, he began without a sprint, knowing that the years had not been kind and that patience would be the watchword today. After a slow stroll for five minutes on the flat section, a strange sensation went through his legs. "What is that?" he muttered. Only later did he realize that this was the feeling muscles get when they do exercise.
It quickly became clear that this time would be no better than any of the forgotten times from last year's forgotten campaign. As he lay gasping on a log near the 1/4 mark downing his water (which he had actually brought), he ruefully observed "My body has been designed for a 172 pound man to play golf, not for a 197 pound man to go up a mountain." After a few more stops and starts, he realized that the stops did not make the starts any less unpleasant, and he gamely continued on. "I may as well finish," he said, half-believingly.
By the halfway point, all seemed lost. The legs were heavy and the breath grew short. Grinder after grinder passed by with a chorus of "On your left." "On your right." One kind soul even pointed out that meandering up the mountain was not the most direct path. But your correspondent soldiered on, knowing not the meaning of the word "quit".
But the legs finally failed shortly after the Waterfall, and Snowy collapsed to the ground in hideous pain as though he had been shot. Fully five minutes (well more likely 2) of coaxing the calf into working order were required before the grind continued at an even slower pace. This was no ordinary cramp - this was the body saying "No" in no uncertain terms.
Eventually the grinder reached the top to find Gilman proudly standing on a rock announcing a time of 50:24, somehow unaware that it was fully 7 minutes more than any time he had recorded the year before. After some quick calculations, it was determined that your humble narrator had taken an even 76 minutes to complete the grind. But the saddest part? Gilman did not laugh and mutter dark insults at such a retarded time, he was actually polite and complimentary saying "You'll do better next week." Both parties nodded and thought, "Yes I hope so."
For I will do better next week and my days as an active grinder are not done. The wheel of fortune has laid me low right now, but things change, and soon I will once more ride the crest and rise from my self-imposed exile. There are good times left on that hill, and I will claim my share even if it takes me another ten years to do so.
Until next week!
Times for June 13, 2007
1 (Gold): Gilman 50:24
2 (Silver): Snowy Cat 76:00
June 13, 2007
(Reuter)
As is usual for a Wednesday, the Grouse Grind Gang met for lemonade and Goldeneye at Roggles's house, prior to another assault on the Mountain. Dan was first to arrive, after a hard day's work at the Vancouver Courier. The sweat was barely off his brow when Roggles arrived next (despite it being his house). He had been enjoying a lemony tea at a nearby lemony tea shoppe. His tea obsession was stretching out of control, and an intervention was not long in coming. Dave arrived next, driving up in his brand new sweet ride with Pirate and Gned in tow. Gned had them all in stiches as they ate their cold french fries explaining how unamused he was that they had stolen his wallet, and they he would really like it back because he needed it. Little did Gned know, but the wallet was actually in the garbage bin at the local McDonalds where he had accidentally disposed it after finishing his mustardless hamburgers.
Oaf and Ian arrived next, walking up from the beach where they had enjoyed a spirited game of hack-ball with the darkly murmuring Bear, who had been thoroughly bested, along with his partner Robby Burns. Nutmilk, Rasputin, and Karri were the next arrivals, having just had their toes painted. Rasputin, though initially reluctant to participate, became enthusiastic after being told that he could have the Italian flag. Nutmilk showed off the impressive floral design with her open-toed sandals and was heard to say "I surely do not like wearing socks!"
Roggles won the first game of Goldeneye, as Dan spent the entire ten minutes shooting at Gned despite Gned repeatedly assuring him that they were actually teammates. Pirate left shortly into game two when he ran out of Pirate Cookies, only to return with an empty bag, a sore belly, and a sheepish grin.
As the tournament excitedly progressed, Dave finally realized that Roggles's round-robin calculations were not scalable to such a large group, and that they were nowhere near ready to head to the grind. Quiety pensive, Dave looked over at the clock and saw that it was 11pm and far too late for grinding. Dave gestured at a crouching Gned, but Gned simply shrugged and muttered "The grind is stupid anyway."
But two grinders never got Gned's memo and did participate in the first grind of the season: Snowy Cat and Gilman.
After waiting in the parking lot for an interminable length of time for their 15 absent friends to arrive, Snowy and Gilman headed to the base of the trail for a quick bout of PB stretching. Without Gned in attendance, there was no need to pretend to need 10 minutes, so after only two minutes, Snowy said "Let's roll!" This decision would have dire consequences.
Snowy had lost his watch yet again and was forced to rely on Gilman's generosity to time him. Gilman reluctantly assented.
The race began with Gilman charging ahead. What adventures befell him after that point are not known to this correspondent. As for Snowy, he began without a sprint, knowing that the years had not been kind and that patience would be the watchword today. After a slow stroll for five minutes on the flat section, a strange sensation went through his legs. "What is that?" he muttered. Only later did he realize that this was the feeling muscles get when they do exercise.
It quickly became clear that this time would be no better than any of the forgotten times from last year's forgotten campaign. As he lay gasping on a log near the 1/4 mark downing his water (which he had actually brought), he ruefully observed "My body has been designed for a 172 pound man to play golf, not for a 197 pound man to go up a mountain." After a few more stops and starts, he realized that the stops did not make the starts any less unpleasant, and he gamely continued on. "I may as well finish," he said, half-believingly.
By the halfway point, all seemed lost. The legs were heavy and the breath grew short. Grinder after grinder passed by with a chorus of "On your left." "On your right." One kind soul even pointed out that meandering up the mountain was not the most direct path. But your correspondent soldiered on, knowing not the meaning of the word "quit".
But the legs finally failed shortly after the Waterfall, and Snowy collapsed to the ground in hideous pain as though he had been shot. Fully five minutes (well more likely 2) of coaxing the calf into working order were required before the grind continued at an even slower pace. This was no ordinary cramp - this was the body saying "No" in no uncertain terms.
Eventually the grinder reached the top to find Gilman proudly standing on a rock announcing a time of 50:24, somehow unaware that it was fully 7 minutes more than any time he had recorded the year before. After some quick calculations, it was determined that your humble narrator had taken an even 76 minutes to complete the grind. But the saddest part? Gilman did not laugh and mutter dark insults at such a retarded time, he was actually polite and complimentary saying "You'll do better next week." Both parties nodded and thought, "Yes I hope so."
For I will do better next week and my days as an active grinder are not done. The wheel of fortune has laid me low right now, but things change, and soon I will once more ride the crest and rise from my self-imposed exile. There are good times left on that hill, and I will claim my share even if it takes me another ten years to do so.
Until next week!
Times for June 13, 2007
1 (Gold): Gilman 50:24
2 (Silver): Snowy Cat 76:00
