Ritter
Beats Masullo by a Nose up
(This story is in honor of the friendliest runner in the Catskills and
my best running friend).
By
Peter Masullo
Someday, I’m going to personally thank the lunatic who invented this
race. I haven’t quite figured out the appropriate explicatives, but that crazy
deserves a piece of my mind for concocting the most difficult race I have ever
run. It’s only three miles. It starts gently, but then you go straight up.
That’s right! Two miles up a relentless hill on a road that is too steep to
plow in the winter. A 1,300-foot jump in elevation may not seem too great for
those from western states. Let them try it at 5k pace and then let’s see what
they think.
It is also one of the most enjoyable races in the area. Aside from the
allure of the challenge, the camaraderie is the best. I thank Mr. Vincent and
Ms. Kerr for their great hospitality and for keeping the tradition of this and
other local races alive.
I’ve trekked up what is affectionately known as “The Devils
Kitchen” four times in the past. Thus, you may wonder why I am looking forward
to my fifth attempt. You see, this year, I have something to prove. I’m gonna
get back at that Steve Ritter. He used head games and mental tricks to beat me
last year. Or was it the other way around? Maybe it was my own head games that
backfired on me.
Whatever the case, last May, in the closest race of the year, Ritter
darted ahead of me at the last second to take 28th place. I should
add there were only about 50 runners who participated. That put us somewhere at
the back of the midpack. Obviously, no prize money involved in this victory.
Just pride.
I could have beaten him if not for all those bad breaks. It was one
misfortune after another. First it was that vicious attack dog. I wasn’t
afraid for myself, but I felt a duty to use my canine communication skills to
protect the other runners. OK, so I’m a little slow. I’m not talking about
my running right now. How was I supposed to know it was trained to stay within
it’s electronic boundary lines? You could have told me, Ritter! Instead, all
you did was smile and laugh at me.
Then it was the lilacs. That’s something Mr. Muller and the other fast
guys and gals up front didn’t have time for. However, Ritter was right there
with me. That guy always takes the time to smell the flowers.
Next I got into an argument with some jerk part ways up the hill. He kept
chasing me with a cup of water. I tried to explain that I couldn’t even
breathe, so how could I possibly hold down a cup of water? But this clown
wouldn’t let me pass until I had a drink with him, so I took the cup and made
believe. Funny, but this guy looked a lot like Barry Hopkins, the infamous
Catskill artist/athlete who invented this race. Was this my mind playing tricks
on me again? Or was this one of Ritter’s asshole friends, strategically placed
here to distract me?
Shortly after that delay, I caught up to Ritter again. There he was,
smiling, laughing, and flirting with the ladies. I don’t know how he finds
time or energy for all that, especially in the middle of a hard race. The man
has a smooth rap. I was just about to “dust” him when I was suddenly
attacked by a swarm of gnats and black flies. I don’t know if it was
pheromones or my testosterones. All I know is that every bug in the county was
after my ass. Unfortunately, this manly aroma does not have the same effect on
the ladies. Perhaps I should consider taking lessons from that Ritter guy.
My plight seemed to amuse him. Come to think of it, Ritter seemed to be
smiling throughout the entire race. That didn’t bother me though. In fact, it
was catchy. We exchanged jokes and pleasantries (more aptly unpleasantries) as
to the steepness of our assent. This alleviated the severe “body stitch”
that I was experiencing. Thus, it seemed that Mr. Ritter’s mind games were
backfiring on him.
Then came the one thing about Ritter that really annoyed me. He kept
taking his tee shirt off and then putting it back on again. He would carry it in
his hand for a while, wear it for a while, then take it off and carry it in the
other hand. I couldn’t figure out why a person would do this in such a
relatively short race. Didn’t we have enough to worry about in dragging our
old bones up that hill? Either wear it or don’t wear it. But make some kind of
decision or commitment. I confess, I spent more time pondering this moronic
stupidity than I should have. This alone cost me 28th place.
All these distractions (and the hill) wore me down. Toward the end of the
race I’d had it. I told Ritter, “If you think I’m gonna race you to the
finish you’re crazy.” This seemed to take the pressure off and Ritter slowed
his pace from a walk to a crawl. That was just the break I was waiting for. I
took a couple of deep breaths, garnered all my strength and whatever remaining
energy I had and slowly crept up behind Ritter. As I passed him I blurted out,
“I was just kidding with that last remark about not racing!” That’s when
the real race began. We passed each other at least a half dozen times during the
last 200 yards of the race. You should have seen us. Two 46-year-old teenagers,
running and smiling and grunting and laughing as hard as we possibly could. I
hadn’t had so much fun in years. I’m told it was quite an exciting, yet
amusing exhibition.
Then came the finish. I was a half step ahead. I could almost taste
victory. But at the last instant, I turned my head to see where Ritter was.
Simultaneously, Ritter lunged forward. He beat me by a nose. In a flash, I lost
my race due to stupidity. All I had to do was face forward and the race would
have been mine. I failed to use my one and only advantage: my nose. If I had
just faced front instead of turning my head I surely would have out-nosed “the
big guy.”
As an American of Italian descent, I have been endowed with an Italian
nose. It is a real nose, not like that button Ritter has on his face. It is my
theory that such a small nose does not allow enough oxygen to reach Ritter’s
brain. This produces an intense form of “runners high,” which is the reason
he is smiling all the time.
The truth is, you couldn’t meet a nicer guy. We’ve run many races
together since then and we’ve become very good friends. I look forward to
running again with him, not against him. I make no guaranty of victory, nor do I
really care who wins. I do guaranty a good time for all who join us. If not for
the satisfaction of the effort, come along for the fun and games, or just to
watch the show.
(This
year’s run is on May 8 at
