The first 12K run of the Winter Trail Series is in the books. If you have never participated in a Feet First “Baz” event, I suggest you do so. Baz is a character of characters. He is the best swearer I have ever witnessed. He makes Andrew Dice Clay look like a nun. His English accent makes crude cussing sound sophisticated. If you commit the rookie error of talking while he’s addressing the crowd, forget it, you’re history. He’ll give you the best “shut the _uck up monkey _ick” and it will sound so eloquent you’ll say “thanks”. I admire Baz for his energy, sense of humor and commitment to trail running. And, for a guy who lives hundreds of miles away, the Baz Man knows Blue Jay and the surrounding trails better than anyone.

The OCTR were in full force; Skip, Wendy, Jessica, Marisa, the elusive Eric Lumba and myself. I beat Wendy (again) to the starting area but given her transportation arrangements that turned out to be a worthless victory (I’ll get into that later).

I don’t know who hacked out the carpool invite on myfamily.com but posting the night before an event is too late. I never checked the late post. Skip insinuated I snubbed the carpool by not participating but, I cleared up the misunderstanding (due to the late post) and spun the situation into a successful reverse snub.

Even in a small trail run there was still the whole runner to bathroom ration mystery which always blows my mind. I walked in on some guy taking a #2 and he freaked. I apologized and told him I was George Michael just looking for some fun.

After a few motivational curse words from our fearless leader, we were off. I love the climb out of Blue Jay. If there was a man made water well, Baz would have us start in the bottom of it. He concocts difficult courses and no doubt gets a kick out of it. Once out of the pit and onto the single track, the OCTR got spread out and we all kind of ran at our own pace.

The course is all single track and pretty technical. There was a good mix of rocky, sandy, rutted-out, rooted and generally uneven single track. I thought the course had a good mix of up and down. It’s a major milestone but, I managed not to trip or fall for an entire eight miles. That was not the case for all. I counted eight really nice bloody knees at the finish. A few were nasty.

Is yellow plastic ribbon expensive, against the law, toxic or in any way detrimental to the environment? Who’s putting these course markings out anyway? Tony Orlando and Dawn? I’ve seen more yellow ribbon surrounding a slain Crips member than I’ve ever collectively witnessed on any one of these trail runs. When you’re lucky enough to even spot some yellow ribbon, it’s rationed out like food stamps at the local welfare office. Not sure what type of ribbon dispenser Baz utilizes but, it must be from the set of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.” To compound matters, you run into the issue of discerning which tape is for the current race versus the old ribbon from some previous Baz circa 1905 events. As for the white chalk arrows, does one arrow say a thousand words? I’ve seen arrows point directly into cactus plants and rock quarries. I guess the whole sign thing hasn’t hit the trail circuit yet. Chalk belongs in the classroom but on the trails, it’s an analog world.

Marisa did her normal dine & ditch at the start and was sunning herself while eating shrimp cocktails when I crossed the finish line. Kyle, who is not an official OCTR finished 3rd in training mode; please! Eric, Jessica, Wendy and Skip soon followed.

Baz’s after run snack treats are legendary. There is enough processed sugar to support twenty junkies trying to kick heroin addiction. The spread literally looks a kindergarten potluck; M&M cookies, more cookies, candy, chips…It’s a cornucopia of cold crap. Does the park service forbid hot food in Blue Jay? You could offer a breakfast burrito for ten dollars and sell out to this crowd in about 30 minutes. And, to compliment the sugar buzz there’s plenty of beer and soda incase your insulin levels haven’t already kicked you into some diabetic state. I must be living under a rock. I was unaware that Budweiser made recovery beverages; “Electro Light Beer.” If the local yellow jackets get a whiff of that snack table, we’re all dead.

All in all, the weather was slightly overcast and perfect for a trail run. After waiting for all to come in, Baz handed out the awards (Marisa, 1st in her age group {over 50}). Michelle Barton had her usual strong showing. Some guy, who had a 2:24:00 full marathon under his belt, picked up a medal for his age bracket. There was a 10 year old boy who finished in the top 25. Good stuff.

At around 11:00 a.m. it was time to pack up and head home. Wendy seemed pressed and was in a hurry to make the weekend’s MAS get together; Mothers Against Smiling. Jessica had to rush home to check email inquires on JDate, eRunbuns, stressedoutRD.com and phsychoroomates.com. Skip went to the SAG vehicle to retrieve a check for me and I went to my Jeep to get some cash I owed Jessica. When I walked back to the finishing festivities to meet up with both of them they had already left. Skip, Wendy and Jessica had blown this pop stand. The reverse snub was now confirmed.

Getting in my vehicle, I wrote off catching up with Skip and the SAG (Support and Gear) vehicle but boy was I off. I could have caught the SAG on my kid’s Razor. About ¼ the way down Long Canyon Road I pulled up to the “Golden Tortoise”. We pulled over and concluded our Miami Vice drug deal by swapping cash in middle of the street. It was at this moment when I made my fatal error. Instead of popping in-front of Skip and despite the double carpool and ditch snub, I politely allowed the SAG to pull in-front and lead the way. That’s when my whole driving world unraveled. With one mile to go until hitting Ortega Highway, I followed Skip as we worked our way downhill. I’m not sure what road conditions the SAG was experiencing but, I thought we were sharing the same pavement. Apparently not! The SAG was on the brakes, off the brakes, on the brakes, off the brakes. Did I miss the migrating deer heard crossing the road? Was there something scandalous happening in the SAG’s front seat. Did Skip need a new windshield prescription? Does he carry nitroglycerin in the cargo bay?

With the sun setting, we reach Highway 909 and finally headed back to “The OC”. “Highway to Hell” started playing on my SIRIUS satellite radio and at the time, I thought nothing of it. Wow, did that ever become a pre-cursor. Still following the SAG, I began to wonder if Skip was having serious engine problems, lactic acid induced foot cramps or an AARP episode. The SAG couldn’t seem to reach any speeds over 40 miles per hour.

If you have driven Ortega Highway, you know the jittery commuters, spilling over the hill, have been up all night melting Sudafed. There are more accidents and homicides on this stretch of highway than anywhere else in California (fact). Needless to say, you better move along or you’ll have a modified 87 Ford Bronco or rusted out Corvair up your car’s rear end. Imagine what happens traveling at sub 40 speeds. In ten minutes, it looked like the SAG vehicle was leading a funeral procession for some overdosed methamphetamine user. We were going so slow, a horse trailer, some chick on a Vespa and a street sweeper were all weaving behind us threatening to pass. I think a Monarch butterfly landed on the hood of my car. Did I mention we were barely moving? I considered coasting to save gas. To avoid road rage, I holstered my 9 and called Jessica on her cell to tell Skip to speed up. Some harsh words were exchanged and low and behold we hit the posted speed limit. Almost to Antonio Parkway, we passed a nasty car wreck and to complete the SAG Saturday snub, Skip didn’t pull over and offer a Maxim Magazine or a work-out ball to the wounded.

All sarcasm aside, I love the Winter Trail Series and all the events that Bazster puts on. If you have not signed up for the next 15K run on Saturday 2/10 that’s no problem. You can register the morning of the race. The drive up to Blue Jay is pretty easy and it’s smooth sailing on the way out as long as you get in front of the SAG. Beware of the “Golden Tortoise!”

Charlie