Week Forty: June 20th to 26th

Yes, this was as frightening as it looked and, no, I did not keep this look the entire week. On the one hand, it would have been nice if I ever needed an extra snack throughout the day; on the other, it would have been pretty nasty after several of my longer runs, not to mention the condition of rolled oats after a shower...? Why are all those birds and squirrels flocking to your beard?

Suffice it to say, it was hard enough to get the smell out of my beard. Much like walking into a smoky room or standing anywhere near a campfire, the smell of rolled oats clung to my chin hair like stank to a rediscovered moldy sock.

Of course, all of this was worth it, just to see the looks I got from the parents at the camp sing-along on Thursday night. I imagine their farewlls to the campers as they departed for the overnight: "Have a good night, honey. Have fun...and, by the way, stay away from that man with the breakfast cereal on his face. Something's not right with him."

Perhaps there is something all too right....

It took me about thirty-five minutes to string all of these o's on my face. For each one I had to twist a clump of hair until it put me on the verge of eye-watering pain, then fold over the tips to make what looked like a shepherd's hook. That made it easier to thread through the o in the center of the rolled oat and doubled as a means to hold the o in place once I released my grip.

Classic stuff. Things they never teach you in school.

Week Thirty-Nine: June 13th to 19th

Excellent! I just had to see what this looked like before I started the gradual beard-thinning trim in a few weeks. The warmer it gets here--and living in a river valley, we get the nice beard-clumping humidity--the more I want to pare the look. It's grabbing at my shirt collars and reaching out for my earlobes like the accursed Wrigley ivy. We are close.

Still, what beard-venture would be complete without the always classic hairless look? What really makes me laugh is the number of people who are now so confused that they believe I have trimmed the beard. I can only imagine the internal monologue..."Hmmm, let's see, something is different about his look this week...did he finally listen to all my hints and trim that beard...no, that couldn't be it...but what else could it be...OK, that's it, maybe I should say something...."

This look is now so Viking it scares me, but in a good way.

Week Thirty-Eight: June 6th to 12th

I wondered how long it would take to reach this pre-Dumbledore point in facial farce-itude and then I forgot about it until recently. I was amazed at how much this particular facial arrangement hurt. The rubbery hair-band, not traded with the post-lice-infested girls, yanked at my chin in the way that Joan Rivers must have often experienced facial-tugging. No worries for those of you who care about such things as my personal appearance: I only wore this for the photo. For a photo of this week's beard stick around until the bottom of the page.

I was back at the Zoo this week after many months away and all the people who only see me there during the Summer got a full-facial of the beard in all its chinny glory. Everything that happened gradually over the months of school happened in one glorious week at the Zoo. The reactions ran the usual gamut of shock and awe, but I have to relate one here in its entirety because it captured the greatest beard moment thus far.

It began when I ran into one of the custodians/grounds crew men at the Zoo. He and I have been friendly over the years, telling each other of zoo adventures and family things--he's always curious about why we do the weird things (blonde hair dye, head-shavings, lightning bolt facial hair) we do at Camp so we chat about that often.

He saw me coming out of the Camp tent and he stopped cold...

"Whoa! You grew a beard...!"

"Oh yeah, I just let it go."

"Wow, and that's...that's a different kind of beard too!"

"Yeah, I have heard that one a few times."

"Yeah, man, you look like a Quaker or something."

"Heard that one too."

"You know, if you trim it up, it will look...well, it will look..., it will actually look nice."

Much of the rest of the conversation followed that tone, as he tried to convince me I looked terrible and I eased him into the fact that I could care less. Such is life....

Week Thirty-Seven: May 30th to June 5th

I have spoken previously about the curious phenomenon of beard-drag. I may have first noticed it while running the track behind my school. The wind cuts across it in a curious fashion, slicing through the trees and houses and catching runners at odd angles. For those runners bearing beards the cross-cut is even more pronounced...and interesting.

With school out, my job at the zoo has already begun and whatever I thought I had experienced in terms of beard-drag while running (that light forcing of my head off to the side in a semi-magnetic repulsion) was nothing compared to the resistance while biking. I ride my bike back and forth to the zoo each day and while I had done this earlier in the Spring--when the beard was far less developed--this was an entirely different experience.

I would stop short of equating it to whiplash but if I am to continue the growth through the Summer and into the Fall, with its whipping winds, I might have to begin my travels with neck-brace fortification. One would not want to have to concoct a story to explain why I am wearing a head-halo at the start of the new year..."well, you see, kids, let me give you a piece of advice about beard, biking and the wind...."

Week Thirty-Six: May 23rd to 29th

As Summer nears, the beard is taking over everything: serving as the facial Velcro to anything and everything in sight. It is a well-disclosed fact that the beard will reduce its size this Summer, and eventually disappear altogether. I have no desire to follow in my brother's bearded footsteps. It is his goal to make it the entire year with the beard. Mine was but to make it to Summer.

This was the last week of school for me. A strange time, to be sure, though there were some pointed questions about the beard--none offensive--though, honestly, there is little that sneaks past the beard-shroud and strikes a sensitive, albeit, hairy nerve. Then again, many would argue that I may not possess said sensitive nerve, so there would be little to worry about. At least it gave people something to talk about besides all the classroom troubles they were experiencing in the waning days. "I thought you were getting rid of that thing after the big race...?" "So, when is your big race; I'm sure you are looking forward to shaving that thing off."

No, I never said I would get rid of it after the Tough Mudder.

And, though I do, at times, look forward to shaving this beast from my face, it will be with some sliver of regret. It's hard to say good-bye to all that hard work, just as it is hard to say goo-bye to a group of kids at the end of the school year. But pay attention: if there is one thing that is certain, it is that the beard will go out in style!