The Children of the Night lurk upon the trail during the Lawrence Trail Hawks Fright Night Run, Oct. 30.
Before I tell the story of the Fright Night run, I must relate the interesting incident that occurred just now as the Big K and I walked Cubby Bear, Sophie Jones and Lambchop in Deerfield Park.
As we strolled the sidewalks, in the strange orange lamplight of the dark park, we came upon two young men, college-age, seemingly, moseying about in the grass, heads down.
“Looking for something?” I inquired, always nosey, and wanting to test out my new headlamp.
“Yes, car keys,” came the reply.
So, while Karen and Lambchop continued on, I joined the hunt for the missing keys, while Cubby Bear and Sophie each strained to pull me away in their own directions.
“Keys fall out of a pocket?” I asked.
“No, stupider than that,” one of the lads, a tall, slender, pleasant-faced fellow replied. He reminded me of my nephew Aaron. “We threw the keys into the grass, to see if we could find them.”
“We found the keys right away, the first time,” the other, a stouter youngster with a merry appearance, said.
“If you find them this time, will you go for a third?” I asked.
“No,” said the first. “We have to be somewhere in a half-hour.”
We continued looking. I found it hard to keep a coherent search pattern in the area the two key-hunters described to me, as the hounds were intent on pulling me into their own search agendas, which I’m certain had nothing to do with keys.
Finally, still unsuccessful, and noting that Karen and Lambchop had long since departed the area, I told the fellows I had to give up the search.
“That’s ok,” the first one said. “We really appreciate you lending a hand.”
“Yes, thanks very much,” said the merry-faced stout youngster.
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “I’m afraid I didn’t really do much. And I hope this experience won’t put you off trying other pointless, stupid things in the future,” I said, hoping to plant a seed that could one day germinate into ultra-running.
“It won’t, don’t worry,” they called after me, and the dogs and I departed, vastly reassured about the future of our youth.
They did the Mash. They did the Monster Mash.
The Trail Hawks Halloween Fright Night run was better than fantastic. It was better than fabulous. It… was…. SPLENDIFEROUS! In a scary, frightening way, of course.
Dozens of Hawks showed up, all bearing luscious treats of food and drink. The costumes were amazing. Sandy “Crafty Hawk” Beiter and daughter Natalie were dressed as Nancy Drew and her mother. Coleen “Lil Big Hawk” Voeks appeared as Alice in Wonderland. After she’d consumed an appropriate amount of alcohol, Coleen and I stood on table top and recited “Jabberwocky” to the enthralled assemblage. It was requested, I hasten to add.
The Moon Poem also was requested, and delivered, by Yours Truly, who wearing a Chiefs jersey (#27, Larry Holmes, natch) and a Trail Nerds mid-cap, was costumed as “Bad” Gary.
The thing started with two groups of Hawks going out on the Sanders Saunter course, one group on the blue trail and one group on the white. The idea is that the groups would collide in the darkness and shriek and scream at each other.
Don't be afraid, I only vant to bite your neck! -- Count Hibbard, creature of the night.
We set out into the spooky woods. I ran most of my run with Julie “Sunday Hawk” Toft, Debbie “Wheat Hawk” Webster and spouse Larry, and James “Skull Hawk” Barker, who somehow joined our group after the other group went through, and we got separated from the rest of our group, which included Levi “Smilin Hawk” Bowles, Nick “Colo Hawk” Lang, Sarah “Scoop Hawk” Henning and Brad “Pastor Hawk” Bishop.
The Trail Hawks gather for the Fright Night run. Aren't you scared??
Scoop Hawk avoids groping zombies and lightning strikes during the Trail Hawks Halloween Run.
We come upon Skull Hawk lurking in the woods.
I wound up running in with Deb “Kettle Hawk” Johnson and Mac “Holy Hawk” McSpadden. I forgot to mention, that as we started out, we came across Darin “Lincoln Hawk” Schneidewind, running through the dark woods with no light. Truly old school!
Holy Hawk and Kettle Hawk emerge from the darkness.
Christine Metz, another creature of the night.
More children of the night swarm through the woods.
Everyone finally got in, with Yours Truly bringing up the rear, of course, in time to find the party in full swing, music blaring out of Colo Hawk’s FJ Cruiser, and stout picnic table groaning beneath the weight of cupcakes, cookies, candy, and all kinds of other goodies. Hot food and drinks were lined up in pots on the side counters of the shelter, which was wired for electricity. And we had a fire going in a chiminea.
Wheat Hawk brought a hot apple-ciderish drink fortified with booze. To the horror of “good” Gary, who is supposed to be off booze until after Ozark Trail 100, “Bad” Gary swigged some, and even worse, participated in a disgusting man hug.
As we partied, the cloud cover that had shrouded the evening blew off, revealing a nearly full moon. Howls greeted the orb.
All too soon, time to go. We packed up. I found myself taking home a plate piled high with cookies and cupcakes. How good would they be with the next morning’s coffee! Alas, I was not to find out.
As I sped up the ramp to K-10, two raccoons darted in front of my truck, eyes glowing hellishly in the headlights. I hit the brakes, the raccoons made it safely into the weeds on the side of the road, and my plate of goodies went sailing into the dashboard, and hence onto the floor on the passenger side.
Heaven’s price, perhaps for being “Bad” Gary? No cookies and cupcakes for you, my friend! So, Halloween done, I return to the light.
Four days to Ozark Trail.
More later!
gary
Nick at Night.
