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the course, hint: if the only other runners you see are four-legged, have ear tags and a certain bovine expression, you’re off-course, unless you are a member of Future Farmers of America. At several points, Girl Scouts will be passing out water (or water to those passing out), and the Rescue Squad will be perched on Lee’s Hill for the faint of heart, short of breath and imminent of death. Don’t worry, you’ll be on the home stretch then, and its (almost) all downhill from there. A Deputy (don’t dissent, he’s armed also) will turn you left in Washington, and you’ll go right to the Courthouse on Gay Street and a big finish where the spectators will cheer you to the rooftops (which as you probably know aren’t all that high so this isn’t saying much).
Since its inaugural run in the dim recesses of recorded time, the Fodderstack has become a high point in the local calendar of events. Both long-time local runners, Rappahannock wannabes and the odd dedicated runner (no double-intendre intended, much) travel to Rappahannock for what is often the first great
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