Got a little Weird in Austin this weekend…Sargento’s hands kept touching my meat

This past weekend, seven of the local Gastonia F3 Region rendezvoused in Austin, Texas to explore the capital city and see the local flair that “Keeps Austin Weird.” I’d also mention the primary event was to participate in the 31st running of the Austin Marathon which attracts an elite field, except we were not in that category, well, maybe Quiche is elite, but you already knew that. Really, this just happened to be the Texas stamp for Sargento’s version of Forest Gump where his personal goal is to run a relay, half or full marathon (a “thon” as we runners call them) in every US State. True to the Big Cheese’s EH’ing prowess, he often prefers the company of others to join him in these pursuits as some of you have joined the fun. This event was not a typical “sausage party” (more on that in a minute), as M’s came along for support, shopping, music, eating and drinking (Jen: “drink!, drink!, drink!). A last minute work fiasco had my M cancel on me, so I became Oompa Loompas +1 (or he became mine) and in a Weird town like Austin, we fit right in without much of a quizzical look. But not to worry, we all had separate rooms so you can leave the jokes in the lobby.

So, what’d we do? Most of the group partook in some epic Texas Brisket and BBQ Friday afternoon. I say most because I left Charlotte on a later afternoon flight. I did join just in time for happy hour Friday followed by music at the World-Famous Continental Club. Since I was the late arrival and missed the BBQ, I requested food and we hit the Whataburger for a late night “snack.” This venue also provided some entertainment, and a little concern. The poor homeless guy coming off a meth binge ran into the place attempting to grab the door-dash bag. It appears this is a regular occurrence for the Whataburger team that were on this quick and ran him out. Oh, but he decided to detox in the parking lot instead, looking like a one-act air-traffic ground controller with arms motioning for some invisible goblin to get in his mind through a small opening – to say crazy is being kind, but he did appear to be on meth, so there’s that. We safely exited the opposite side of the joint headed back to the Embassy Suites hotel where our flamboyant hotel greeter welcomed us a bit to eagerly (all weekend long) hey, but he loves his job. We then settled back at the bar for a night cap back at the hotel.

Saturday morning, we thought about finding a local F3 workout so we could grab at least 1 fricking point for the weekend since the race does not meet the “standard” of a Pushing Rocks Challenge (we see all you Dam 2 Dammers…); but we opted for the smart sack and a late breakfast (no liver mush on the menu – Broke was hot!). The cold front came in overnight pushing the temperatures into the 30’s and 40’s for the day which made for some brisk walks in downtown and Congress Streets where the bougie people (Quiche included) shop. In the heart of Texas and this shopping district are a number of authentic western stores. Broke’s eyes lit up like his Grandson during the 25 days of Christmas. Alas no boots were purchased, but the rest of us didn’t mind hiding inside for a little warmth between stores. Lunch was at Gueros Taco Bar, self-described at the best in Austin, and the crew agreed. More music at the Continental Club for some and naps for me and Oompa (separately of course!). Free drinks at the hotel happy hour and we migrated to a nearby Aussie sports bar for the last meal of protein and carbs. No night caps this evening.

Sunday morning: the Q declared we would meet at 0630 in the hotel lobby for the half mile walk to the start. Only the Q was late (really, are we surprised?). Finally, the Q arrived, and we moseyed into the gloom chilled to about 30 degrees. We arrived and found a corral for us to huddle and await the festivities. Between buildings and around people, the cold was temporarily held in check. Quiche had a sock on his head but when you are elite, you get away with that look. Broke had a red temporary sweatshirt (Broke – secret love for the Wolfpack, maybe?). Defib was the only brave one in shorts. Oompa went with neon, which he could have been confused with a highway hole digger, but he could be seen. Sarge opted only for one layer while JJ and I looked like we were headed to an arctic expedition. Finally, the gun sounded and among 17,000 entrants for the full, half and 5k, we slow moseyed through the start to officially start the race. 6 lanes wide and a gentle uphill grade for the next 3 miles would be our foray to this event. Mercifully there were two right turns and the parallel block descended downhill for almost 3 miles. Banking left, we then went to the western portion of the city near Steven F Austin High School which looked like a small college campus (everything is big in TX). The course was reasonable here for a few miles until completing 9 and we were smacked in the face by the beginning of Enfield Road which had a severe hill to welcome us to the home stretch, or so we thought. Mile 11 gave us about a 100-foot drop, nice, this is the way to end it but oh no, the Soul Crusher (Freight’s term of endearment) was waiting as we joined 15th Street and this beauty that covered a portion of the 12th mile. Even our top guys commented how bad of a location that elevation was in the race. Oompa and I just complained. JJ had the best attitude about it saying – “well, this is why I run the halfpipe every Tuesday.” Well stated sir. Eventually, we all made it across the finish line, some sooner than others, but everyone had accomplished a personal goal despite no PRs (that I’m aware).

Tired of this yet? Yeah, well suck it – reading this backblast is akin to my trek up the hills on mile 10 and 12. I felt like an 80 year old man on a broken tricycle.  We’re almost there…hold on. Post race celebration was a beer, Titos, and/or water, to the individual taste, followed by the breakfast at the hotel. The best warm shower followed and we suited up for lunch at an excellent place Quiche’s friend recommended called Bangers Sausage House and Beer Garden.  It had live music, outdoor seating, great scenery, a range of food and plenty of beer or mimosas. In addition to the locals many of the race participants gathered there as well. The food was fantastic, even though not everyone decided to get a sausage. So YHC, with a half rack of ribs, I became a popular fella, so much that Sargento kept picking off my meat. His M even became troubled by how much Sarge was grabbing my meat. I was in a sharing mode and scrapped off a tender rib for his own enjoyment.  (I know, not really matching the twitter headline you were thinking…). The Quiches and JJs headed back to the hotel for their Sunday flights. Oompa followed for a nap. The remainder sought more alcohol because Defib’s M declared “drink, drink, drink!” We acted like we were customers at the Fairmont hotel so we could take our respective leaks (at $700/night, that’s an expensive piss). After a donut food truck, we hit a bar or two before we went on a walking tour of eastern Texas to find the dinner reservation in the Houston suburbs. Sargento, our dutiful leader was sure of his GPS directions that every time Broke’s M (who was a trooper in a walking boot) asked “how much longer?” Like the good dad he replied: “Shut up and pee in the pickle jar!” Ok, not really, but I think everyone had the over on their steps that Sunday – but Onward we marched into a sketchy back alley. We witnessed small animal lots enclosed with thin wire containing live chickens, roosters, pigs, and goats, no wonder the Tex Mex in Austin is so fresh! Broke shared he really missed not packing his gun as we inched closer to either death or food. Finally, after our leader realized his GPS took us to the service entrance of LICHA’s, we circled to the front gate and took cover at picnic table in the front yard of this woman’s house. LICHAs Cantina is supposed to be the best but when Oompa began promoting the fried tongue, my appetite waned. Fortunately to make up for his navigation gaffe, Sargento began ordering pitchers of margaritas and the buzz quelled any fears of this being our final meal, not just in Austin but forever. Mercifully we Ubered back to the hotel.

One of the perks of staying at the hotel was the constant sale of a Hilton Rewards Program. Between them and the dancing inn keeper that warmly greeted us as we entered and exited, Hilton was certainly pushing their properties. So Sargento felt bad and booked a room in Las Vegas in 2025. It just so happens there is a half “thon” that same weekend. Anyone want to go? Probably won’t meet “the Standard” to get a point for it but hey it’s you vs you so gamble and run (not in that order).

Results:

• Quiche – 1:32:55 (#2 North Carolina finisher, #229 out of 9140 (top 2.5%)
• Defib – 1:44:25 (#4 North Carolinian)
• Sargento – 1:47:55 (#5 NC)
• Broke – 1:48:50 (#6 NC)
• JJ – 1:49:01 (#7 NC)
• Short Sale – 1:58:42
• Oompa Loompa – 2:45:49