Gather ’round children, to hear the saga of Sanuk D, that farang from the Land of the Suwaree who embarked one day for an ultra-marathon through one of the last remaining natural habitats of the Flying Monkey. This little remnant of the Highland Rim, located in the land of his birth, the valley of the Cumberland, contained but one hill. Yet this hill was to be scaled again and again. And again. And, yet, again. But what? you thought this was a marathon? How did it become an ultra, you say?
Sanuk D left his pappy’s home at a slow trot, hoping to warm up his legs and shake off the jitters. This he did in fairly good order, adding a mile or so to his day’s total but calming his nerves a bit along the way. Surely the passing motorists questioned his sanity. At the start, he saw MonkeyTrent and the Big D, but knew that Rex was well into a walking survey of the course. To his left, a table groaned with goods on which to gorge at the completion of the hunt.
As the pack left the line, some fairly predictable sorting out took place, along with watches beeping, runners grumbling, and sinus cavities clearing. The promised beauty and the promised hills began almost immediately, and this may be where D’s troubles began. For you see, Sanuk D is a humble man, a gentle man, but when he finds himself among the flat landers, he forgets at times that he is one genetically speaking, if not in current residence. He finds it necessary to show them how climbing is done in the Land of the Suwaree.
Yet despite his arrogance, the first stretch went quite well. Usually, such a run will, in technical terms, suck for the first 4 or 5 miles. But with high 40 degree temperatures, overcast skies, and a good fueling the night before, conditions could not have been better for this adventure. Sanuk D felt good. The Greeks have a word for this.
Somewhere around mile 7 or so, there was a russeling in the leaves. Branches were breaking; something was moving down the wooded hill with great urgency. Could it be? Had they found the runners? No, in fact, the Farangs were still safe from the Flying Monkeys, but a family of white tailed deer had attempted to join the pack as bandits.
Now on the north side of the one ridge which he would climb all day, D was impressed again with the beauty of his surroundings. Sure, this was a foolish thing to do, but what better place in which to do it? It seemed as if other runners melted into the scenery behind him as Sanuk D climbed to the Bear’s Cave. A quick pit stop at Deep Wells to refresh his fuel belt, and D was back on the road. Very shortly thereafter, he found Rex and had their only, far to brief, greeting.
As he descended to the south end of the park, D ruminated on how the return ascent up that same incline would, in technical terms, suck. Yet he ventured on, happy to see the half-way point and feel the strength in his legs. And then, what is this? how did this climb come back to him so soon? Sanuk D was not mentally alert to the challenge, yet he would not show weakness in the face of the Flatlanders any more that Hercules would stop his sulking. Returning and refreshing again at Deep Wells, he began to calculate the distances left and tried to concentrate on each mile as it came.
Mile 19 brought him back to the scene of the bandit deer. Having been warned of the power of this climb by Rex, and having been alerted to nefarious forces by the skittish wildlife, Sanuk D should have known better than to challenge the Monkeys. Alas, the young Padawan could not be dissuaded. He persisted in a pace up the hill meant to prove his point once and for all that this Farang had gone native. He could climb like a goat, or so he thought. Their shrill cries still hanging in the air, the Flying Monkeys hid their faces as Sanuk D ran face first into the steel re-enforced concrete wall which they had built at the top of Luke Lea Heights, driving the deer to the woods below.
From this point forward, there was nothing for him to do but stumble toward the finish. He will always be left to wonder if walking was the smartest thing or the dumbest thing he ever did, for walking once will, of course, encourage one to continue doing it. He was passed by the old guy, he was passed by those girls. In his shame, Sanuk D was passed by the guy in the tutu. Yet he persevered, running some, walking some, and still enjoying the beauty of nature. He also grew in the knowledge that he had not puked, he was not sick, and he was not injured. These facts meant that he would live to run again. And as he reached the 23rd, 24th, and 25th miles, he knew he would finish and win the right to wear the Monkey shirt.
His greatest regret was not doing more to share this joy with Rex, but he will return again and they will share triumph. He is a Farang, a native of the Cumberland Valley, and a flatlander. But the Flying Monkeys are native to the Appalachian Hills, the Land of the Suwaree. If they will stalk him in his hometown, he will stalk them in theirs.