The Quest for the Treasure Hunt Medallion

Every year during Winterfest the Syracuse Post-Standard, our local paper, hides the Treasure Hunt Medallion "somewhere in Onondaga County." Considering that the medallion is a 1.5 inch wide piece of plastic, this doesn't narrow things down too much. On top of that, with all of the other fun Winterfest activities going on (like the lovely Martini mix-off and culinary cruise last Saturday with Claire and Adam), you might think I'm above looking for it.

The treasure hunt medallion sports a cocky looking snow man who is just daring you to get in his grill.

Well, you're wrong. For one, there's $2,000 on the line if you find it. Second, it's a freakin' treasure hunt. Come on, how fun is that?

Thankfully, our esteemed paper provides a daily clue each day of Winterfest. They slide it in somewhere below the Alexander and Catalano ad and, mercifully, they list a compilation of the days' clues on their website Syracuse.com. The first few clues are about as helpful as an accordion would be during a fox hunt ("Hey fiddle dee dum and fiddle dee duss / We hid our medallion somewhere in a hundred mile radius). However, as you get on in days, the clues become increasingly specific, until you're out there looking for the stupid thing in the woods, where no normal person would hear you scream, with a bunch of angry-looking strangers who are probably packing heat. They all need the medallion waaaaay more than you do, because Maria just lost her job at the Serv-Mart and Kenny's taken off work the past nine Winterfests to hunt this @#$%& down to no avail.

There's just something about the clues' bastardized iambic tetrameter that gets me excited to hunt treasure. Sure, the rhyme scheme reads like it's been forced bound and gagged into the trunk of a Kia Spectra, but you have to give the Post-Standard points for trying.

For all of you keeping score at home, here were the first five clues. If you're from Syracuse, please consider all of the places that would fit this "description."

Clue No. 1
Friday, Feb. 18
You can search on your own,
You can go with a group.
When you find our medallion,
You'll holler and whoop.

(Whooping cranes? Carrier Dome? Whoopi Goldberg? Why use such an esoteric verb if it doesn't mean anything?)

Clue No. 2
Saturday, Feb. 19
Strap on some snowshoes,
Some boots or some skis.
You won't get too far
If you're not wearing these.

(OK, sure. The medallion hunter has to get through some snow to find it. It's probably in a park somewhere.)

Clue No. 3
Sunday, Feb. 20
Park your car with the others,
In a place just for them.
Make following the rules
Your main stratagem.

(Cool, a parking lot. That narrows it down to like 50,000 places. Clue three was a step backwards if you ask me.)

Clue No. 4
Monday, Feb. 21
The place where it's hidden
Requires some walking.
Just where, we can't say,
Because we're not talking.

(Stupidest clue yet. The Post-Standard writers truly are rapscallions.)

Clue No. 5
Tuesday, Feb. 22
A place where some picnic
And paddle and play.
That's the general location,
Start looking today.

(Reinforces clue 2.)

Enter our hero. I credit experimental discord at work and my keen detective mind for getting me out to Green Lakes yesterday. I had gone to bed early Tuesday night with the plan of getting up at 4:30 am to check Syracuse.com for the specific location. At 8, I read the following:

Clue No. 6
Wednesday, Feb. 23
Past a place where a tray's
For food not at all;
Where what goes in the basket
Isn't a ball.

Disc golf! Of course! By noon, I had summoned the motivation to get over to Green Lakes State Park. An easy romp through the snow with Charley struck me as the perfect foil to my recent long and tempo run escapades.

Hordes of treasure hunters arrive at Green Lakes to seek the Treasure Hunt Medallion.

Dog in tow, we started with a quick pass through the disc golf course. They weren't kidding about snow shoes; sharp, icy snow sneaked its way into my running shoes with each step.

Once Charley was satisfied that "Past" truly meant "Past", we walked up the hill to the campgrounds. We probably spent an hour or so up there poking through trash and marking trees with our fragrant urine. Every time I saw a sign with "rules," I was careful to dig out the snow from around the sign base with my freezing wet gloved hands. Thanks for the frostbite, Post-Standard! Just in case anyone got the same idea as us, Charley was careful to mark the signs, too. He laid down a solid after searching one particularly enticing hiding spot. But alas, we didn't find the medallion. Before too long, we were headed back to the beach area.

The lonely road back from the campgrounds. This was one of the only times during the hunt that I didn't see at least one other group of people nearby.

"Look, you've got to trust me on this. I smell something in this trash can. Sure, it may be dog poop wrapped in a plastic bag, but are you willing to take that chance with 2,000 cannolis on the line?"


"The geese! They ate the medallion! Let's go tear open their gizzards and find it!"

"Why don't I take a piss on this tree so we'll know we already checked here?"

Charley and I eventually left Green Lakes empty-handed aside from the six miles of easy running (By the way, I now need to average 10 over the next three days to hit 70...yikes!). Neither of us could bear to look Natalie in the eye when we got home. We were just another couple of treasure-hunting deadbeats. I went to bed last night with the salable medallion snowman ripe in my mind. This resulted in a series of horrid nightmares of him strangling me with his scarf. Yet, somehow, I knew we had been close. Somehow, I survived the night, and morning came once more.

Clue No. 7
Thursday, Feb. 24
Near a tiny community,
Where nobody lives.
We hope this clue's helpful,
That's all we can give.

(Is it really all you can give, Post-Standard? Because I already combed over the campgrounds like I was searching for a dead body of a beloved family member. Thanks for nothing.)

I sipped my morning coffee like a man who had been to hell and back, staring at the computer screen. It had to be Green Lakes. Resolved to push through a day at work, blogging about the treasure hunt medallion instead of actually looking for it, I reasoned with myself: A more specific clue would come tomorrow. Then, I would be able to narrow the search and claim glory. I began to steel myself for a 4:30 am Friday wake-up.

Then this at 9 am:

"The Post-Standard's Treasure Hunt medallion has been found. 16-year-old Olivia Chopskie of East Syracuse found the 1.5-inch plastic medallion hanging from a tree in the Pine Woods camping area of Green Lakes State Park at about 7:45 a.m. today.

Since Olivia's parents subscribe to The Post-Standard, she wins $2,000."

The quest had come to an end. I send my sincere congratulations to Olivia Chopskie. She probably put her hand in dog crap, so she deserves the money.

Snow Marathon

Squirrels Haunt My Dreams

Hi, my name's Charley. I recently started running, and I'm not great at it yet, but it's coming along. My long run is currently seven miles, but I'm getting to the point where I can run most days without getting sore.

Anyway, I wanted to post a question here since I know some of you guys are more experienced than I am. I'm almost embarrassed to ask it, since it's probably going to seem like it's coming out of left field, but my question has to do with squirrels. Every time I see a squirrel on a run, I have to dart after him. Does this happen to anyone else?

Some background. After pooping in the backyard and eating my morning bowl of Kibbles'n'Bits earlier today, I gave some thought to why I feel such aggression when it comes to squirrels. When I was really young, I asked my mom about where milk comes from. She said that her milk comes from the food she eats. When I asked when I would be able to eat real dog food, she told me that I'd have to wait until I was older. But it wasn't what she said that was striking; it was more the way that she said it. She couldn't look me straight in the eye, but instead had this far off expression on her face. Later that night, I overheard her having an argument with my dad.

"Goddamnit Mona, why'd you have to bring it up at all? Lord knows you can't make promises like that! Not in this economy!"

"Pokey, I didn't say anything! He asked me a question, and I did the best I could to answer him."

"If only those damn squirrels didn't control 90% of the world's money, we'd be able to ensure that our son would be able to get a steady job and put food on the table..."

There's a saying down South, where I'm from: Rats are rats, pigeons are rats with wings, and squirrels are rats with good PR. But local cultural bias aside, after that fateful night, I did some research of my own about the origins of squirrels and their insatiable greed. Long story short, it turned out that my dad was a raging anti-Squirreletic and that in truth, squirrels had been wrongly oppressed for centuries. Still, somewhere deep down in a dark corner where my rational mind could not freely go, I cultivated a deep hatred for all things squirrel.

What bothers me most is that I can't outwardly control this hatred. As a long-standing Dixiecrat who has pushed for social equality at every turn in my young life (simultaneously jawing with our household's staunchly conservative Stuff Pierre whenever his obstructionist opinion surfaces), it just eats me up that I'm still chasing squirrels. As I said at the start of this post, my distraction has started to infringe on my progress toward a healthier lifestyle, as I can't seem to stay on a steady pace whenever I see one of those goddamned shit-dwelling, nut-sequestering rats.

Can anyone help me?

Dog is Running Marathon

OK. He's not really running the marathon, but we're up to 2 miles in the mornings for the past two days. Still horribly behaved off the leash.

My cold is still hanging around, which is crazy, but long run is in the works for this weekend. What are you two starting at mileage-wise?

In news related to the title of this post, I saw this piece of shit when I googled somesuch language about marathoning dogs. A Guinness record for being dressed like a mascot? As world records go, 4:30 f'ing sucks. I don't care if you're wearing 30 pounds of fur; you should be able to run faster than that. I'm tempted to go out and by a Phillie Phanatic costume for Pittsburgh.

.

Charley Update

This morning, I wanted to give everyone an update on the training partner. After a few days of brisk walking, Charley (we decided it's spelled this way because he was Harley when we got him from the kennel) has improved a lot in the speed department. I've worked him up from short fartlek style training to this morning's run of about 1.5 miles. My goal is for him to be able to run at least 6 miles with me, so that morning runs are that much easier, though I'm starting to think that he could eventually handle more.

Living in a wire crate can't be good for the joints. I'm not sure how long he's been cooped up, but I imagine it's been for a while. I can't think he would have gone straight from some irresponsible person's home to a kill shelter to Helping Hounds in Syracuse over the course of a week.

Natalie is still not entirely sold on keeping Charley, and I don't blame her. I would really like the decision to be mutual, even if I am getting more enamored with him each day. One option would be to keep him long-term and see if Becky would want him at a later date. He really is a great dog!