Operation Overlord

Trying to come up with a good first blog is like trying to come up with a believable story when your mom asks why there's a condom wrapper on your bedroom floor (years ago...and the story had to do with a make-shift water balloon fight...). It's not easy. The last thing you want is to be seen as a disappointment... So, to be safe, I've decided to tell a story that happened about 8 years ago on a rural road that winds through the wooded hills of the Hudson Valley.

Operation Overlord:

The name given to this tale of tales is a little misleading. There was no invasion per se. This is more of play on the word overlord, which will make more and more sense as you read on. It was late fall, circa 2000. The Army cross country team was finishing up a run at one of our favorite trails. All of our training spots are named. There's Harriman, named for its close proximity to Harriman State Park. The Aqueduct, named for an old railroad bed that somehow leads to a Romanesque water supply system. Blackrock, the Dew loop, Lee Gate, and Joe's Pole were some others. On this day, we were running at Hagen Das. This run was named well before my time, and while I'm not sure exactly why it is called Hagen Das, I know we often made fun of our women's team for eating ice cream after practice, so there's a good chance it's related to that.

I remember it being an overcast day. We had probably run our normal 7 or 8 mile loop. The cool thing about this run is the massive train tussle bridge that we park the van under. It's actually in the movie Michael Clayton in the scene where his car blows up. The trail that he runs up into the woods shortly after the explosion is part of Hagen Das. Anyway, the train bridge is like 150 feet above the road. You have to run up a quarter mile hill to get up to the tracks and then come back toward the road almost half a mile to get up to the bridge. For some reason a good number of us decided to run up to the bridge that day. We had never done it before, and we couldn't really figure out why (I mean besides the fact that the track was actively in use, and the idea of going up there automatically triggered thoughts of Gordie LaChance, Chris Chambers, and Teddy Duchamp in the train bridge scene of Stand by Me...let's face it, nobody wants to end up like Ray Brower, and we were smart sensible West Pointers), but today it seemed like a really good idea.

At this point I have to start talking about a guy on our team that we nicknamed Red Reeder. His last name was actually Reiter, but that was close enough for us. Red Reeder was a WWII hero and later became the Athletic Director at West Point for 20 years, but none of us knew that at the time. We just knew Red Reeder because he had a room named after him in Washington Hall and that's where you went to buy your bus tickets to the New York airports so you could get the hell out of that place for two weeks twice a year. Our Red was a great kid. Super nice, super smart, super religious, and super easy to make fun of. Don't get upset - everyone gets made fun of their first year as an Army distance runner. Actually during this story I think Red was sophomore, so it did last a little longer for him. We were actually very harsh with Red. He used to bring his books with him on the van out to our running trails. Seeing as that was a time for bonding with each other, we gave Red a lot of shit for that. Red, to his credit, pulled a play straight out of Dr. King's playbook and just peacefully ignored us. Of course that just made us try that much harder, and lead to the infamous van ride where we asked Red which of our male track coaches he would rather perform fellatio on. If members of the class of 2002 track team, mainly me, are found dead one day, double gun shot wounds to the head and groin, track down Red for questioning first.

Back on the bridge... I should really rename this story, the day that Will tried to shit on Red Reeder from a 150 foot train bridge. I'm getting ahead of myself now. So, we get to the bridge. It's high. Really high. The 15 passenger van looks like a Smart car. At first, the 6 or 7 guys who chose not to pay tribute to a Rob Reiner film didn't notice us up there. So obviously we decide get their attention the old fashioned way...congealed saliva bombs. Unfortunately most of us were dehydrated from the run, and our weak attempts simply evaporated before hitting the ground. The better idea would be to try and urinate on our teammates from 150 feet, but the distance runner normally hoses off a tree or two well before the run finishes, and thus with our guns empty, we decided to just yell down and let our presence known.

The ooohs and aaahs from below were so anticlimactic. Red Reeder wouldn't even acknowledge our feat. He was nose deep in either his Chem201 book, or the bible. Well that just wouldn't do. Will and I looked at each other for a moment, minds racing, searching. I had nothing, and was getting frustrated. Then, out of nowhere, Will just smiled and said. "I can't piss...but I could deuce". Of course - brilliant! And with that, Will dropped trou, and wedged his ass through a gap in the iron cross beams of the bridge. The laughter below only lasted a moment. It became obvious that this was no run-of-the-mill moon job. Will was trying so hard to push it out, the groans were clearly audible below. Red, meanwhile, never looked up. My mind had already come up with an explanation to coach on why Will got a hernia on the Hagan Das train bridge when all of a sudden there was loaf jettison...

Now granted, this turd was barely dollar menu worthy, but size really didn't matter here. The mini-charcoal like briquette floated down toward the van from the Overlord above. It was the "Oh my God!" that shook Red from his page of double bonds or verse. I clearly remember him pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head skyward. I'm not sure if he saw it in the air or not. I'm going to guess no because honestly, who expects to see falling solid waste...at any time?

Now, I wish I could change the ending of this story. It would be great to say that Will's slider sized poo either landed on Red or even better, on his Chemistry text or the 23rd Psalm...and further more, that this all went down as a 90 car Norfolk Southern powered rail convoy barreled down on us...but none of that would be true. Will's junior pie missed Red by about five feet. He never even flinched.