Nutcracker Races 2015
Solomons Firehouse
Saturday, Boxing Day, December 26, 2015
8:30 a.m. Start


Nutcracker Races 2015

- poem by Liza Recto

‘Twas the day after Christmas, a.k.a. Boxing Day,
And thirty-two runners came out to play.
When 50+ Clubbers come south to run
With CBRC’ers, it’s always big fun!

Did the Idiots’ Half happen? You’ll have to ask Perry
If he and his cohort got up so very
Early that morning to run in the drizzle,
Through puddles so deep, you could stir them with swizzles.

The Family Graf was running the show:
Tami and Don, plus Holly and Joe.
The weather was balmy, the course wet and muddy.
If it rained any more, we’d say “Swim with a buddy!”

With four races offered, four miles was most favored.
Twenty-two runners, their breathing quite labored,
Sprinted and leaped over puddles and rocks
Soaking their shoes right through to their socks.

Noah and Paul were leading the pack
Through Calvert Marina, to the gazebo and back.
Past boats hauled for winter, and a new subdivision,
They pumped and they powered with kinetic precision.

Although there were signs to mark every turn,
Some of us runners just don’t seem to learn.
We so love to run, we can’t help adding distance.
Can’t we follow a route? Even once, just this instance?

James, statistician extraordinaire,
Left the course briefly – not really sure where.
For a while he was running alongside the docks.
Was it just you, James, or the entire flock?

Mike Cannon ran with the others in view,
Did he go off course in his Nutcracker debut?
Mike Fagnano and Perry, Phil McCollum and Bill
Are Nutcracker vets, so I doubt it – but still…

There was quite a gap between Jack and John Way
Did someone get lost and lead others astray?
If that was the case, the times will show it.
Next time, pay attention, you guys, and don’t blow it!

High schooler Anna kept up with the men,
Sailing over the hurdles to the turn, then again.
Karen ran the course right. So did Liza behind her,
Thanks to Charlene giving cues to remind her.

Newcomer Matt was on Karen’s heels,
But in the last mile, she took off as on wheels.
Liz predicted she’d run as if pushing a piano,
But surprise - she kept pace with Jody Fagnano!

Martin ran steadily, nine-thirty per mile,
Followed by George, as they ran single file
Past construction equipment, permanently camped
On the shoulderless road that’s being revamped.

Farther down Dowell, Palksy was trailing.
At a distance you might call just short of hailing.
Minutes behind him, to sweep up the lot,
Came Amy and Jonna at a leisurely trot.

There were three other races, as I did say:
One mile and two, and the good old 5K.
Peter and John, their steps fluid and brisk,
Walked the mile without judges - they could fly without risk.

In choosing two miles, Emme Staats was the cheese.
With no one to chase, she could run as she pleased.
She cruised down the road, and got into her zone.
Hi ho, the derry-oh, the cheese ran alone.

The 5K was mostly a family affair.
The Walsers and Edgars ran as parent-child pairs.
They ran nearly in tandem as the crew cheered them in,
But each parent to offspring conceded the win.

The other 5K’ers were Ruth, Patrick, and Jeanne,
Armed with her camera to capture the scene.
Jeanne walked with arms pumping, dressed in holiday red,
With Patrick behind her, and Ruth way ahead.

We waited inside for times to be posted.
In the unseasonable heat, we felt slightly toasted.
Mint julep would’ve been a fitter libation
Than a glass full of eggnog to suit the occasion.

We munched out on gingerbread, cookies, and fruit.
We browsed at the tables and collected our loot.
Books, dolls, and wallets, puzzles and prizes,
And t-shirts from races, stacked neatly by sizes.

The medals were turtles, made by the Grafs
From felt and pipe cleaners, and walnut shell halves.
On their backs they had written “2015”
In a Christmas-y shade of glittery green.

Our running urge filled, our appetites sated,
It was now time to go and get rehydrated.
Let’s thank the Grafs for this Nutcracker Suite.
For race-deprived runners, it’s a holiday treat!

What’s in store for oh-sixteen? It isn’t clear-cut.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good nut!
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