It was our final race of the
season – a late time trial to decide which one of us has to wash all
the dishes at our upcoming training camps. Usually we make the rookies
wash the dishes, but this year’s rookies embarrassed us by skiing
pretty fast, so we decided to have a time trial. It was a mass start
classic time trial that started at Champlain lookout and ended at the
bottom of Penguins, going on Ridge Road the whole way; because no-one
likes working too hard at the end of the season. As expected,
it was a bright blue, warm day, and it was a red/silver klister combination-
about the gooiest combination possible.
I hate washing dishes, so with
my newfound sprinting ability I went out to an early lead, and established
a good advantage over the rest of gang by the Ridge Road/Fortune Parkway
intersection. I was feeling good, but I knew I was going to start
fading so I was pushing hard. It happened at the big dip in the middle
between Keogan’s and Penguin; I was coming over the top to start the
downhill, and this big chipmunk ran right in front of me. And stopped
in the middle of the trail. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I
swerved right, he moved right. I moved left, he moved left. Finally,
I committed back to the right- and so did he. I closed my eyes and heard
an unearthly yelp. When I opened my eyes, I was still going down
the hill, and I was still being yelped at from close range. Looking
down, I saw the darn chipmunk- would you believe- STUCK right in my
klister. It was moving around and trying to get away, but like a fly
in a spiderweb, it was just getting more and more stuck. At first,
I laughed, but that did not last long as I realized that the chipmunk,
while being great for grip, wasn’t doing much for my glide – and
I could see the guys cresting the hill behind me, so I knew they were
catching up.
I tried kicking the ski into
the snow, but the thing just squealed louder. I tried scraping
it off with the other ski, but I couldn’t do it. Eventually, I just
resigned myself to finishing the race as best I could with a live chipmunk
on the bottom of my ski. That was working ok until it partially
freed its front paws, just enough so that it could start chewing on
the bottom of my tights. Pretty soon, despite my best efforts, it had
ripped my tights clean off me! So there I am, skiing down the start
of Penguins, past the crowd of people at the lookout, wearing only my
underpants, and with a chipmunk stuck to my klister and gnawing on my
leg!!
I got some weird looks as I
flew by the lookout (mostly on one ski), but I knew Karl and Ed were
catching up, so I couldn’t stop. I’m pretty sure I had caused the
chipmunk some significant internal damage to that point, and we left
a combined trail of blood on the snow as we went past. I took a look
back at the crest of one steep hill, and saw Ed and Karl right behind
me; I knew the chipmunk would have to go if I was to win the race. So
I skied right off the bank of the trail, and pulled a quick front flip,
while grabbing my ski to get the chipmunk off. It worked; I landed,
and threw the chipmunk over my head as I tucked for the finish line.
I heard a yell behind me, but I was focused on the finish. I just out-toed
Karl at the finish line to secure my non-dishwashing spot. Ed crossed
moments later, screaming something about me cheating- but I couldn’t
really hear him, because the chipmunk had hit him plumb in the head!!
It’s a week later now, and Ed still can’t get the chipmunk-klister combination totally out of his hair. Nobody really notices though, because that’s sort of how his hair looks normally. But here’s some free advice: if you ever cross a chipmunk, don’t let it get in your klister. And happy April Fool’s day.
"Sustaining People in Motion"