Last night was the 9th annual MardiGras version of the Club Fat Ass Capilano Canyon Night Run. This run takes about 90 minutes and is a great way for trail and road runners to get a feel for what it's like to run in the night. It's a very low-key event: Nobody really cares how far or fast participants run. There are 12 and 17-kilometer run courses, but there's also a "roll-your-own" distance for those who want to run farther, shorter or to accommodate those who get lost. The real objective of most folks who toe the line, however, is the post-run party.
I've participated in the party for every one of the 9 years this event has been held. Some years, as few as 20 people show up. Other years, there have been as many as 50. The format of the party is generally the same each year. Runners, runners friends and those who help out with the run get together afterward for a potluck buffet. The vibe of the party, of course, depends on the vibe of those who attend. Even though the party always follows a reasonably strenuous run, the energy level of the party is usually quite high. There's lots of chit-chat about the night run and other runs that participants have recently completed or hope to participate in. There are prizes awarded for wacky things like the person who gets the most lost, injured or travels the farthest to participate in the night run. After a long and strenuous day and with the prospect of going out for a long run early the next morning, folks generally head home around midnight.
Some people come back to this running event and the ensuing party year after year. For lack of a better term, I’ll call them the hard core of the Capilano Canyon night run. Some years this hard core has numbered as high as 10, but most years it's under a half-dozen. Given the diverse ethnic and socio-economic background of these folks, it's unlikely that they'd know what to talk about if they didn't share a common passion for running. However, on the occasion of this evening, these people will stay up all night telling stories about the runs they have done, the runs they hope to run in, their injuries, their gear and other stuff relating to running.
Every once and a while, one of the hard core will introduce a topic that is peripheral to the discussion about running. While the subject matter always returns to running, this peripheral topic usually causes all who are present to bust a gut laughing and provides something to discuss over and over again on long runs.
One year, our side topic was chili peppers. I think we got started on chili peppers because I had a crop of them growing at the time. In any case, this largely male group of hard core runners was soon going on about how they liked their chillies hot, how one could eat a hotter chili than the next, and so on until the chillies came out and claims had to be put to the test. The raw chili-eating contest broke-up the pace group and saw several participants crying for milk. The grudge match saw chili sauces, pepper relishes and other similar condiments lined-up on the table and sampled in turn. The final leg of the chili triathlon saw competitors sampling hot chili vodka. This leg of the competition had clear winners and losers. One competitor vanished. We thought he had gone to Lions Gate Hospital to have the chillies removed by a professional before they destroyed his internal organs, but he was discovered an hour later moaning loudly in the bathroom.
This year, John had cause for celebration. No, he didn't get another stent implanted... he got into Hard Rock. Widely considered to be the toughest 100-mile run on the planet, so many people want to run Hard Rock there is a lottery to get in. Getting in was cause for celebration, so John shared his jubilation with his hard core running pals by bringing out the dregs of a bottle of 20-year old mescal... the stuff of legends with the worm in it.
To put things into context, this bottle had just over a finger of mescal in it. The object was not the mescal, however, rather the long, fat caterpillar-like worm ("gusano" or "gusanito" in Spanish) that floated in it. According to John, the booze hadn't been touched in 10 years, but the last sip along with the prized gusanito was being saved for a special occasion... and this was it.
John served each of his hard core buddies a sample of the amber liquid in a champagne glass. The bottle with the last of the mescal and the gusanito was his reward. We toasted his success at Hard Rock. John tipped back the bottle and savored the last of the smoky nectar. He then bit the worm into several chunks using his front teeth before grinding it up with his molars. "Maybe it's because it was stewing in mescal for 20 years", said John, "but the worm was a bit crunchy."
Next thing we knew, there were 3 bottles of tequila sitting on the table. In turn, each had to be compared to the taste of the liquid that preserved the worm. As with the chili-eating contest, there would be clear winners and losers. Given that all of the hard core had spent time in Mexican pulquerias, border towns or tourist haunts, there were many adventures regarding tequila and it's agave cactus derivatives to share. Almost in mid-sentence, one of the hard core passed out... and then there were three.
We considered dressing our unconscious friend up in a skirt but each time the camera flashed, he'd wake up. Once, he told a short story that made no sense, but left the rest of us howling. Another time, he took a slug of the $150 tequila from the bottle before sliding back to his happy place sitting at the table with his buddies, chin on his chest and head slightly askew.
