by request (since it appears that he isn’t about to tell the story).
Sometime in the mid 80s, Ron called me up and said that he wanted to challenge me in the Phi Psi. I wasn’t in the greatest shape but figure my experience would count for something so I gladly accepted the challenge. Ron flew into New York from Chicago and we headed up to State College for the weekend (I’m pretty sure that Gary came along too).
I used some of my influence with the Phi Psi’s to make sure that Ron and I would be teamed together at the start – racers go off five at a time in 30 second intervals in order to space out the hordes. That way we’d be able to go head-to-head.
At some point shortly before the start of the race, a local newspaper reporter got wind that Ron had flown all the way in from Chicago to challenge me in the race so she interviewd him. I wasn’t privy to the actual interview but someone told me that Ron was brimming with confidence in the interview. He evidently said something to the effect of “I’ve been listening to these Phi Psi stories for years and, even though my brother is supposed to be pretty good, I think I can out run his butt handily.”
The way that the Phi Psi course is laid out, you have to run about a third of a mile to the first bar. The six bars are then strung closely together for about the next third of a mile. Then you finish by running the third of the mile back to the starting line. When you get to the first bar, you’ve run a decent distance and you can be quite winded but you can’t wait to catch your breath, you need to quickly slam that beer down and move on.
I knew that Ron was in better shape than I was so my plan wasn’t to try and out run him. It was to make up time IN the bars drinking the beers. I knew from experience that the Phi Psi isn’t like any other run that you have ever done and the first time you do it, it can be quite difficult.
I had no idea what Ron’s strategy for the race was going to be but having caught him mentioning several times about how he thought he could outrun me, I didn’t expect him to just run along with me. I figured he’d take off on his own and that’s exactly what he did. That was just what I had hoped. All I had to do was maintain contact with him and just look for the right moment to make my move.
Ron went off at a nice pace and I settled in a few yards behind him. I’d estiimate he probably had about 20 yards on me as he ran into the first bar, aptly named The Phyrst. The Phyrst is a basement bar so you have to run down a dozen or so steps to get into it. The beers are all lined up waiting for you on the bar right smack at the bottom. You just slam your 50 cents on the bar to pay for the beers (archaic PA laws meant that each runner had to actually pay for his beer when they came in), chug the beer, then turn to the right and go out the back door which was only about 15 feet away. There wasn’t a whole lot of room in the bar and you didn’t stay in it very long.
The 20 yard lead that Ron had meant that he probably got to the bar maybe 4-5 seconds ahead of me (however even thought he was in front of me he had no idea how big a lead he had while I knew exactly how far behind I was). As I came down the stairs, he was staring at his beer which was maybe a third empty. This was my moment. As many people have said the first time they run the race “you think you are going to be thirsty when you get to the bars but when you look at that first beer, it’s not the least bit appetizing”. I quickly chugged the beer, turned and ran out the back door and that’s the last I saw of Ron until the end of the rest.
I continued on my way and forced myself to finish the race. I wasn’t in particularly good shape, so a victory over me was really there for the taking. I don’t remember what my time was but it was one of my worst ever. I struggled but finished and then waited for Ron.
He came in a minute or two after me. He was in considerable discomfort and bent over trying to keep from getting sick. Just about that point, the reporter saw him. She came over and asked “how did you do?” Reportedly, Ron’s response was “It was a LOT harder than I thought it would be – but at least I think I beat my brother”. At that point the reporter pointed in my direction and said “I don’t think so. He’s been back here for a while.” Ron looked like this 😯 .
After he regained his composure, Ron explained what had happened. He said that he felt relatively good going off and that he thought he was running well under control. He said that when he got to the bottom of the stairs at the Phyrst and tried to drink the beer he had a little trouble getting it down. He said he took a couple of gulps and then tried to catch his breath (this was the moment that I saw him staring at his beer). He then took another couple of gulps but had trouble with them too (while he was forcing those gulps down, I had finished my beer and was headed to the back door). Ron said that at this point he decided to change his strategy. He decided he would just make sure he stayed ahead of me so he kept an eye on the front stairs waiting for me to come down as he finished the beer (unfortunately for him, at this point I was already headed UP the back stairs).
At each succeeding bar, Ron invoked the same strategy – drink the beer as fast as he could without forcing it but while also keeping one eye on the door so he could stay in front of me. Of course, while he was doing that, I was just stretching my lead.
So, although my time was one of my worst ever, my head-to-head victory made it one of my more satisfying races.
Ron – feel free to correct anything that I might have wrong (or add anything that you would like) 😆