A Tale of Two Days: Hood to Coast 2011

The last weekend in August means Hood-to-Coast time. 2011 marked the the sixth time I've participated; you can read about my past experiences here: 2006, 2008, 2009, 2010 (I competed for the first time in 2004, but I have no good, written record of it). This event squeezes out the creative juices in me--some of my best posts are memories from HTC--almost to the point where I feel like my proprietor is paying me to blog the event, not to photograph the participants, because I need photos to supplement the crazies I encounter on the course.

I drew the same assignment as last year: legs 5 and 35. Leg 5 always feels like torture because of the closeness to vehicles traveling at speeds fast enough to escape the earth's gravitational pull--including many semi-trucks hauling hay to the cows in the Willamette Valley--but this year was especially bad because I had to endure two hours of morning rain. The logging road that has been used in the past for leg 35 was being used for logging (how rude), so the organizers had to change the course, and thus I didn't have to hike a mile into the bucolic backwoods with all of my gear. I instead parked next to a bridge that was apparently a popular fishing hole for the locals and walked 50 meters to the spot of my 12 hours of solitary confinement.

Just a few random points before moving on to the heart of the post.
  • I almost broke my streak of running into someone I know. But the Croc Warrior, who I know as a fellow runner who trains at Duniway track at the same time I coach, showed up late in the day on leg 35--running in Crocs, of course.
  • I came within 30 seconds and calling Meg and asking her to somehow bring/transport/deliver her key to the van, as I thought I had lost mine (she was at home and car-less, so that would have been quite a challenge). The key was safe in my jacket pocket the whole time (stupid, forgetful brain).
  • It took me over 90 minutes to drive the 10 miles from my post on leg 35 to downtown Seaside to turn in my pictures and equipment. 80 of those minutes were spent on a one-or-two mile stretch of Highway 101 stuck in severe traffic. HTC organizers better revert back to 1000 teams or the quality of their product will be eternally tainted.
  • I learned that at least one person purchased a photo that I took. One of my friends from church, who ran leg 4, said his teammate who ran 5 bought his photo at the beach and said it was awesome. Validation feels great.
For this year's review, I am handing out awards to my favorite participants. Like all other awards, my choices are highly subjective and biased and perhaps even a little sexist. But I'm in charge. So without further adieu, I present BarefootMike's 2011 Hood-to-Coasties.

The siblings separated at birth award goes to . . .

The person who most looks like me award goes to . . .


The most flirtatious (with the camera? or me?) award goes to (three-way tie) . . .

The best Donnie Osmond look-alike award goes to . . .

The hot for teacher award goes to . . . (I hear a lot of conversations as people pass by; some dude from Nike was trying to pick up on this woman)



















The best looking Portland hipster award goes to . . . (although he should have been wearing skinny jeans)


















The award for the best placement of your race bib goes to . . .



The nerdiest scout award goes to (female and male) . . .



The best staged pose award goes to . . .

















The award for the most disinterested, embarrassed, "why do I have to be here" award goes to . . .

















The happiest beaver award goes to . . .
The best reaction to smelling my FiveFingers funk award goes to (you could smell them a mile away) (tie) . . .


The I'm so proud of getting myself dressed this morning award goes to (male and female) . . .














The I think very highly of myself award goes to (tie) . . .















The best satan look-alike award goes to (male and female):

(whoops: how did that get in there?)

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