PIRATICAL PETE PLUNDERS PACIFIC NORTHWEST
Stablemate Pete “the Pirate” Goldsmith was swaggering around the place, carrying category-winner treasure and 7’56” PB booty from his immense run at the Tunnel Light Marathon in North Bend, Washington state. The 62-year-old sea dog was singing shanties a plenty through the 2.5-miles long tunnel at the start of the race. With blinding headlamps cutting into the darkness, the runners emerged into the light under overcast skies and drizzly spells—ARRR!
The Stable News sent our young scAllywag to convince the landlubber to get back to the briny deep:
ScAllywag: Ahoy, there, Captain Pete. Have ye lost yer sea legs with all this marathoning?
Pete the Pirate: Avast, ye wee scallywag, I had to trade in the sea legs for a 2:57:16 marathon and first-place M60. When I was touring the world on the high seas, I could only manage 3:05:12. It’s worth every doubloon in me Goldsmith treasure chest.
ScAllywag: Shiver me timbers! Every doubloon? You’re not trying to run a rig on me, are you? Tell me more—any others dodging the scurvy and racing with ye?
Pete the Pirate: It was all hands on deck with me fellow buccaneers Jim Lucey and John Brockenbrough pacing from start to finish; they kept me shipshape, savvy?
ScAllywag: Aye, ye sound like ye have a great crew.
Pete the Pirate: Arrr, check out this photo of me crew before the race!
We somehow lined up (right to left, mind) in our finishing order! Jerry (2:47), John and Jim (2:55), me (2:57), Shane (2:58), Charlie (3:18), and Manish (3:25). I hope Davy Jones didn’t have a hand in it, and it’s just a freaky coincidence.
ScAllywag: Uuurrrgghhh, a cold shiver just ran down me spine! A rare achievement for a sea dog as old as you to run below three hours! Very special, indeed. Don’t tell me you’re doing another?
Pete the Pirate: Aha! Not another marathon, but a 10-miler in Austin, Texas, this November.
ScAllywag: Blimey! Make sure you give no quarter, Pete! I’ll be off to report to General Puffball.
Back on the good ship El Establo Noticias, General Puffball was putting a call through to Captain Stazza, who was sailing his way home on the high seas of the Mediterranean: “Splash! Hello? It’s a bit choppy out here at the moment. Sploosh! Pete’s a Pirate? Since when? He’s a professor of soybeans, I think? Crash! Never mind. He ran a remarkable run, and at 62 years young, he can still make progress. Smash! We need to batten down the hatches! See you at the office!”