March 19th, 2021. One year of madness that feels like 10 have passed. You can argue the state of the world and our overall mental health has gotten better or worse. Whatever, YHC is over it. #2020 is behind us, #2021 is here. CMS kids are heading back to school, vaccines are being distributed, and the Beer Mile was the perfect end to send that dumpster fire of a year floating upriver sans paddle.
49 men stalked the Beer Mile channel and YHC got nervous that the numbers would get unmanageable. This wasn’t Miami Beach during spring break, but YHC was waiting for Gov Cooper to send in the SWAT teams to tranquilize us. 38 M’s of said stalkers must have gotten word of the shenanigans and decided it was time to tackle some Honey-Do projects. For all you math majors out there, that means 11 men stepped up (or got permission) to compete in the 2021 Beer Mile.
The weeks leading up to this madness were peppered with the usual CSAUP pre-game antics. Trash talk, intimidation tactics, comparing notes on the best “training” methods. Vegas had the early odds on two runners thanks to the Slack chatter. But before we discuss outcomes, one shouldn’t overlook life’s most important millennial rule, “I tried, and therefore no one should criticize me.” Any endorsements there, Joker?
But this is a F3 CSAUP. Those weak-minded participation trophy rules don’t apply. Criticism and cynicism abound. Suck it up buttercup, unless you’re blowing chunks on the track. Then go from suck to blow, deny all knowledge of your actions, and take the penalty lap “for the team”. See Cheese Curd for more details.
It should be noted at this time that small pockets of innocent civilians, who are now dumber for having witnessed this, were attempting healthy activities out there. Some teenagers were learning to throw a shot-put. YHC could have saved them some time and taught them how to launch a kettlebell across a parking lot at Swole or Meathead. There was the slow jogger, who kept passing us. He was jealous and wanted in but was too intimidated by the beer chiseled middle-aged men milling around the track. Finally, some random runner was doing yoga near the starting line. After being subjected to 80’s metal played on an iPhone he wisely and discreetly packed up in the wake of an advance of middle-aged men converging on the track armed with beer and determination. It was as if a posse of venti pumpkin spiced latte fueled Karen’s were showing up at Marshalls for a BOGO sale. Like the manager suddenly disappearing on his lunch break, this dude quit his yoga, mid-pigeon pose, packed up his gear, and rode off into the sunset. There was mumble-chatter that he might call the cops.
Back to the race, the favorites were picked a week before the event, but *spoiler alert* just like THE Ohio State losing to Oral f***ing Roberts in round one, the Beer Mile bracket was busted after the first lap.
Disclaimer aside, and it was a good one, judges were selected/voluntold from the spectators. Runners found their preferred spot for beer placement on the track. Rules were shared and Geraldo manned the clock. At his signal, the first beer was opened and the race was underway.
YHC was a participant, so others will have to chime in on the smart plays, fast chugs, and hot laps. YHC knows he lead the pack early on the first lap and was generally out in front after the first three beer chugs. But to everyone’s surprise, Rousey jumped out of the gate quickly on the second lap and maintained a strong lead throughout the race. He even stopped to bust out a burpee at the start of lap 3 and taunt the rest of us as we caught our breath and tried to finish our beer. If Woodson was there, he would have given Rousey a run for his money. But no one could touch him.
Race results are below, times weren’t captured for all. Sound off in the comments with a challenge to the judges and we’ll go back to the tape to call BS and make fun of you.
Big thanks to our judges:
Race participants covered every F3 athletic shape and size. There were runners, clydesdales, meatheads, Beer Mile and BRR veterans, pax both old and young, Area 51 and SOB. A solid representation of the best (or worst) that we have to offer. As advertised, the Beer Mile isn’t about running fast. Training can’t be done on a weekend with some non-alcoholic seltzer. It’s an after work event on a Friday, where you either succumb to the week’s grind or blow through all the stress and struggle to leave it all on the field. This isn’t Friday night lights. It’s far superior.
Finally thanks to all the runners. This was a fun event and there is already talk of an Oktoberfest Beer Mile later this year. Covid concerns and risks are being managed, the world is getting back to a new normal. These are the fun times we missed and need to bring roaring back. YHC looks forward to the next bout of stupidity y’all.