Cable Bridge Run 2011

Barren fog 

Traditions feel like a natural extension of my personality, as I'm someone who thrives in and enjoys the efficiency of the known. This doesn't hold for everything--Meg and I enjoy trying new restaurants and visiting new places for vacation, and rarely do we re-watch a movie (don't ask we have such a large library of DVDs and VHS tapes).

I've been shooting race photographs of the Cable Bridge Run in Tri-Cities, Washington since 2008, the only other race I've shot continuously except Hood-to-Coast. It's a quick, fun trip; the weather is always unpredictable; I get paid; and it acts like the gateway to Christmas.

Brian arrived at my house around 6:45 p.m. Friday. He usually brings his father-in-law to help, but Brian opted to hire his brother-in-law, Brent, instead--also a '93 graduate of McNary, and someone I probably haven't seen since graduation--and we had to drive all the way to Boardman to pick him up. Before this, however, we had to stop once. Brian claimed he wasn't doing anything wrong when we noticed the police car behind us, lights flashing and sirens blazing. Fortunately, he was right. The officer questioned us briefly, checked Brian's information, and informed us that the right taillight was out and that we were driving dangerously down the road. After telling us to get it fixed in the next few days, he let us leave. When he asked us what we were doing, I struggled not to blurt out, "We're heading for the Tri-Cities to shoot a whole bunch of runners tomorrow." He probably wouldn't have appreciated my humor, and Meg probably wouldn't have appreciated bailing us out of jail at midnight in the middle of Morrow County.

We arrived at the Motel 6 in Richland--Brian's wife had reserved the wrong facility, as we usually stay in Pasco about a mile from the start--which seemed older and more shady than our usual cheap-sleep bunk. The first room we tried was full of cigarette smoke; the woman at the front desk assured us it was non-smoking, but she gave us another room. As we approached it, though, a large dog started barking furiously. Strike two. So we got a third room, which was just right, except for the two different groups of people who congregated outside our room talking loudly with each other at various stages of the early morning.

The sun was hiding west of the Cascades

Saturday morning was cold and foggy (although probably warmer than all previous years), but it was the first year we didn't have to deal with snow. I could actually feel my fingers pressing the trigger button and had more control about what I captured. After nabbing the last walker at the start on the Cable bridge (which was apparently started by a very large cannon), we speed-walked past everyone back to the car and drove as close as we could to the finish line, which was at a police barricade about a mile off. Brian and I bailed the Prius, me taking the point position and sprinting along the desert ground and railroad tracks to the finish line, where I continued my record-breaking day, taking more pictures (about 1900) than Brian--a first in all my days of shooting with him. As soon as the race ended (the last stragglers taking over 90 minutes to move 10k, which is over 15:00/mile, for those keeping track at home), we shot out of there, stopped at Carls Jr. for lunch, and then sped our way west to the sun and comforts of home.

On a completely unrelated note, Brian informed me that he won the bid to shoot Hood-to-Coast in 2012, and that the race director also implied that the contract is his for the foreseeable future. Hooray for tradition (and more zany blog posts)! He also told me that my pictures were the best selling of all the legs of Hood-to-Coast on Saturday.