Caribou, Maine

When doing my initial research for a city I usually just Google the name.  So far, I have gotten lucky with getting the town’s web sites.  Caribou’s made me laugh out loud.  The very first link on it is a proposed medical marijuana ordinance.  Coast to coast, I guess.  It made me think of a time in Ohio, during the Olympics, when one of the American snow boarders tested positive for marijuana.  The press was deeming it performance enhancing.  One of the guys I was with said, “Performance enhancing?  That shit makes you cough.”  I still think of that when I see medicinal in the same sentence with marijuana. Also, it made me think of Dazed and Confused when John Stewart's character kept making everything better because he did it, "on weed."

With yesterday’s five and change and today’s abridged intervals I am in Caribou Maine. By the numbers, Caribou is like the last three towns I have come by.  Really, really white.  Almost no crime, aside from theft.  All of the income data suggest below average, but I wonder if the tourist income and the coastal property values skew the numbers.  I wonder how it would look if you were to make create a data set taking out everything south of I95?  A question that will remain rhetorical.  

8,000ish people call Caribou home making it the second largest city in Aroostook County.  Amongst the local attractions here is the Nylander Museum.  Olof Nylander was a native of Sweden, geologist, and naturalist who is immortalized in Caribou.  He developed a reputation for being a tireless and innovative fieldworker.   The museum was built in 1938 by the WPA and houses several exhibits, including large taxidermy.  Admission is free to all and the museum is open Tuesday - Saturday during the summer months. 

Caribou is the first place where I have found a race.  An organized race.  Labor day 8k pictured above (ladies notice the shirtless specimen on the right, oh my)  Last year Thomas Beckum won in 27:58.  I did reach out in an attempt for an interview, or some comment on running in extreme northeastern Maine; but, that request has, so far, gone unanswered.  Last year the event had 35 runners.  Small, but I am encouraged to see running activity.  This year it will be run on September 5th.  I will be reaching out to the race director.  I have also happened upon the Aroostook Musterds, a running club in Aroostook County.  My attempts to contact them have also gone unanswered; but, again encouraging signs that once I reach more populated areas I might have better luck.

With half of the intervals I intended today I am less than 20 miles from my next stop.  Once again, my intentions were to to hit the track before eight.  I left my house at precisely noon.  Walking out the door with more than a liter of Gatorade into noticeably viscous air with cicadas sounding heat advisory warnings from every tree should have been a clue to a tough session.  The heat was the last thing on the list.  Thursday I raced the sun laying down an absolute trail of smoke during a four miler.  My legs had not quite recovered.  I have been running long enough to tell the difference between your mind telling you to stop and your body.  Today was my body.  I listened.  Keeping me from collapsing on a scalding hot track, under the "Home of the Spartans" sign, with Dr. Greene staring into my face telling me I was in good hands.  I listened, came home, and took my daughter for some orange sherbet.  18 and change away from Presque Isle.  Then my first purposeful steps west.