The 36th Annual Race to Robie Creek ™
To run, or not to run: that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer The Running of the Toughest Race in the Northwest Or to take a toad-spotting shortcut against a sea of troubled runners, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; to finish this dread-bolted race; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shard-borne shocks That your spur-galled feet-flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation Devoutly to be finish’d this tardy-gaited run. To puke, to die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream of finishing this hell-hated race: ay, there’s the rub; For in that sleep of death what dizzy-eyed dreams may come When we have shuffled off this coiled half-faced race course, Must give us pause: there’s the respect That makes this race of so venomed, guts-griping, long!
For more on the 36th annual race story click: Robie, or Not Robie