What started as a group of four runners in 1997 has now evolved into over 20 participants. It consists of a run followed by eating ribs at Texas Steakhouse. There are some annual "awards" given out, some sharing of stories, and a little bit of "toasting" and "roasting" of our fellow runners.
If you want to learn more about the Rib Run and to get invited. . . show up for some of our lunch time runs at the YMCA. We leave at 12:15 Monday through Friday.
Today, Scott Wingfield shared an exceptional poem that captured the essence of our nooner group. It is full of inside jokes, so not every bit of this will make sense or seem funny, but to the regular crew it is hysterical. Thanks Scott for taking the time to write this and sharing it today.
‘Twas the Night Before Rib Run
‘Twas the night before Rib Run, when all through the house,
Not a runner was stirring, not even my spouse.
My Mizuno’s were placed by my sling pack with care,
In hopes that tomorrow on my feet I would wear.
Michael and Ursula were snug in there beds,
While thoughts of the Rib Run danced in their heads.
Brad in his cotton tee, and Andy in tights
Had just settled down for a long winter’s night.
The big day arrived, we could hardly believe
Most were there early and were ready to leave.
We met at the Y, at a quarter past noon.
We had to get running, the ribs would be done soon.
Carol donned her hat, whistled Kate to her side
While Amber took off with her shuffling stride.
Next there came Milton who puffed on ahead
With a cap on his head that was finally red.
Tucker ran off to check on the field
‘Bout hit by a car, they surely don’t yield.
Joseph was there, but a little too late
He’d have to run fast to get ribs on his plate.
Up Benvenue Road, the rest ran in a hurry
Where the honks were a blasting with quite a fury.
Most of us shirtless, Dave had on a jacket
We sure didn’t mean to cause such a racket!
Out by the park, the boy’s crossed the road
Dodging the lighters, from cars they were throwed.
When all of a sudden from the woods did appear,
Brad took a shortcut…hope he covered his rear.
We ran to the frogs, what was that groan?
A bunch of park goers were on the ground prone.
Around to the shelter we followed our nose,
Oh my, it’s Cooper, running sans clothes!
Despite the distraction we pushed on to the lake,
Past Frickin’ Fast Frank who is slow as a snake.
We dodged a few cars, ‘cross Sunset we darted,
Now the run would really get started.
We flew past the fountain, I wanted a drink
As I glanced o’er at Kevin he gave out a wink.
Up ahead were the lights, we know what happens there
He grabbed Eric’s hand, people were starting to stare.
Gerry, Dennis, and I slowed, our heads down in shame
As Kevin and Eric pranced ahead through the flames.
Michael was laughing, his elbows tucked high.
Dave said nothing, he just let out a sigh.
Across the Tar River, we flew in a dash
‘Til a spider bit Eric and left him a rash.
Gerry slowed too, hey man what’s the deal?
Surprise…once again, a pain in his heel.
Back toward the Y, the rest of us flew
We were cruising along, an impressive old crew.
When all of a sudden Michael crashed to the ground
Wrapped ‘round his ankle a hoop he had found.
We rounded the corner, and dashed to line
While dreaming of ribs, soon we would dine.
Most thought we had finished when we reached the ‘lot
But we had .05 more to go thanks to ole’ Scott!
The run in the books, now time for some food
First off to the showers with the Syracuse dude.
To Texas we headed, “o-eleven” gone in a dash,
Rib Run “ought” twelve will be here in a flash!
Scott Wingfield - 12/21/11