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Showing posts from 1998

Princess Diana: A Tribute

Well, its been a year now. Time enough for all those cyber-tributes and all. But one more poem needed to be written. So the Muse wafted over Mr Trail Safety, and these lines were thusly channelled.

Diana: A Tribute

How did I Come,
Into the Light?
The car veered left,
But I went right.

I'd made the scene,
All dressed to nines,
Then got all worked up,
over old land mines.

Looking down,
From my celestial state,
Gee I look good!
As dolls and plates!

When once I lived,
They said I sinned,
Now I'm just a candle,
In the Wind.

Bone Regardez, Mr Trail Safety

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude: Part III

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude [Part III: The Final Struggle]

The following is the Oleaginous Intro by a Patronizing EuroAmerican. He is seated in an overstuffed wingchair on a set decorated to look like an Auld Englishe Country House. He of course drives a Country Squatter Towne & Country [specific town and country available on request] provided by the sponsor.

His hands are steepled, and he smirks slightly as he faces the audience. He puts away his racing form as the red light comes on. Take my word for it, because this is radio.

"When we last left Tara and Ethyl, they had completed Parts I & II of Copping Altitude. Let's now join our hapless duo as they undertake Part III: The Final Struggle..." The parts of Byron and "Giftshop Turquoise" were faithfully portrayed by Byron and Ms Leslie, in that order.

DAY 1, MILEAGE MINORA: "The 38-Special"

Ethyl, Tara and Byron are driving the warp-speed-capable Chevy Oxnard. It has two hamsters under the hood.…

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude: Parts I & II

Image
Tara And Ethyl, somewhere between Cascade and Brighton.

A Wasatch Fugue In 3 Parts. [In which this being Parts I & II]

PART THE FIRST: Getting There Is Most Of The Fun.

Ethyl's Gomermobile pulled up to Tara's work. Ethyl was feeling pretty good. The airport was close, everything was styling. Tara is a-bustle and now's set to go.

"So Ethyl...when's the flight?" he asked brightly.
"Gee Tara, lemme look!"

"Happy Faces" turned to "OhShit" real quick, when our two Nimrods discovered that the plane took off in 10 minutes and they were still in the People's Republic of Santa Monica. Exit to the smell of burning rubber.

Somewhat later, it's dark outside the plane. And it stays dark until dawn, when Gawd Turns On The Lights. Morning has broken, and it's time for 29 fun miles. One after the other. And so our two hapless runners play CMFM up over Scott's Peak to Brighton. In Brighton they each have a Pepsi, just like on TV. T…

Unlikely Origins of Mr Trail Safety

This is a story that is shrouded in the mists of time.

It goes back to the daze when UltraRunning As We Know It Today®™ was a bold, virile, and three-legged golem, which upon several Lucky Stars Mr Happy barked with a mighty one-eyed roar. This Golem had hair on the palms, was shaggy in the butt, broke wind whilst running unto the four corners of the world, and it saw that it was good. And it paused not in its pursuits for Gu nor PowerBars, shaped as they were into funny little animals

That was before the Standardizers, the Leg-Lifters, The Steatopygic Savages bearing Ski Poles sought to cast nets and lassoes, snares and traps, satchels and paiges over this flared-nostrilled, freedom-loving snaggle-toothed Wild Mustang that it was. The Givers Of Bad Advice, the Low-Mileage Pundits, The Bladder-Blatherers and the Salt Co-Religionists were gathering and making flapping noises. It seemed like only day before yesterday.

Into this roiling pond of mediocrity strides a figure that would sooner …

Long Trail Speed Record Governing Body

Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1998 10:32:55 -0700


Recently questions have been asked about governing bodies regarding "Long trail speed records" The point of contention is Courtney Campbell's attempt on Sam Swisher-mcClure's record on the Appalachian Trail.

Mr Trail Safety has decided to clarify matters before the next blister pops. Here are his comments:

I. THE GOVERNING BODY
Yes, there is a governing body that concerns itself with Long Trail Speed Records. This board [the LTSRGB] is headquartered in the same anonymous converted 1920s powerhouse near Lincoln, NE that houses the Board Of Standards For Peripatetic Velocity. Nimble readers will recall that this Board governs Running Streaks.

II. GENERAL RULES:
1] All attempts are recorded by passive infrarometers at terminal trailheads.2] The LTSRGB governs all attempts at all trails on the North American continent,with exception to treaty zones covered by the Braunoutte-Pinchloaffe Accords of 1922.3] Attempt verification is handled by…

Improbable List Etiquette Redefined

OK kids, the ice has been broken. By this I mean that you can now ask the most improbable questions to people who loosely inhabit the same sport or 'spurt as you do, under the impression that they are all, sight unseen, your "friends".

We'll warm up with some hypothetical questions. Let's say, for instance, that...

1] I was going to run my first marathon before I:

a] have a late 4th trimester abortion
b] attend the funeral of a hypothetical relative after standing up on the plane and sticking my sore butt in people's faces
c] wrench all my toenails out with a pair of pliers.

2] I'm having trouble running downhill. Do I lean further forward and:

a] apply ButtLube to my tender bum
b] carry a gun
c] harbor resentments toward a person of the opposite gender you mistakenly spent the night with in a city not your own.

3] You are having trouble in your marriage. Should you...

a] seek counselling
b] put your fist thru the drywall behid a locked door while your spouse call…

Psalm Like It Hot!

* The 23rd Psalm. Abridged and embroidered by Lady G, (with apologies to the King James Krewe)

The Forest Prince Is My Pacer,
I shall not Bonk.
He maketh me lie down in the Gu-spot,
And I complaineth not.
He maketh me do the wild thing,
And I shall not falter.
He anointeth my lips with SUCCEED!
And I DNF-eth not.
I scampereth naked down
the Trails of Life,
And I am not spanked
(well, maybe later).
I gather to my bosom the Jaybirds of the field,
And verily, the Forest Prince is pleased.
For he is the tall wood that crowneth the hill-top,
And of righteous girth is his timber.
And I shall dwell on this in rapture,
For this, and the Rest of my Posts.

ORN: Avoided the nettles today, maybe tomorrow.

The Greatest Show: A Poem for Spring

The Greatest Show: A Poem for Spring

For your edification and enjoyment, from the "Poetry Korner
Kompilation" Erasmus Binkster, editor, [Coprolyte Press, Hellmouth CA,
2000], p 9. This slender volume has long been out of print, and is
somewhat difficult to find.

The Greatest Show: A Poem for Spring


See the pinks, the blues, the yellows, the Reds,
Watch the flowers open their pretty heads!
For it starts the road to summer,
In a field of glory, getting a hummer!

The sun is warm, and it dries my face,
As my equatorial zone starts its race!
The grasses change from brown to green,
And ladies asses in see-through dresses are everywhere seen!

All the cute fuzzy animals are to a Purpose Aligned,
The deer, the bear, the squirrel: One Mind,
The Primal Fandango is truly hard-wired,
Why just waking with wood, makes this boy tired!

With birds in the air, the clouds multi-layered,
With a song on their lips, that's Carole Bayer-Sager'd!
Tom-tits, jaybirds, robins-no slackers!
'Cause all these guys…

TitanicMania: Doomed Passages Re-Lived

As promised, a Brief Twice-telling as-told-by-an-idiot of the "Titanic" story, featuring Lady G and the Forest Prince, along with a host of ultra-personalities.

SCENE 1: DOCKSIDE: TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE
The FP is playing cards with a buncha guys. He has 5 aces. The squareheads are pissed, but they are only extras. Lady G arrives in a big floppy hat. She is wearing bike shorts. Nobody notices, because they are digitally produced, and chickens do not have lips. JayBird is writing an ode to Tassel-Headed Korn on EE deck.

SCENE 2: AT SEA
Lady G feels the pull of gravity. She is holding onto a flag-pole, minus the barnacles. A Celine Dion song plays somewhere, and a white bouncing ball helps you out. The Old FP is smoking a cigar, lit from the flame shooting from his butt with a Zippo. He sees a periscope in the distance. Far below decks the Ark of The Covenant awaits the arrival of a velociraptor. n0rm is getting the busses warmed up for the Kamp n0rm.

SCENE…

Mountain Money And You

Once it was asked:
"Mountain money?" Do we have to bring special money when we run ultras in the mountains?

and Mr Trail Safety replies:

Aaah yes...Mountain Money. Nothing quite like it. In other times and places, enterprise and necesity dictated using many local alternatives. For in those far-off days, things are not as they are now, and nostalgia ain't what it used to be.

And what was considered legal tender? How about... smooth round stones the size of a fuzzy marmot head, warmed by the sun. Or perhaps a fragrant cluster of dried grasses, with the whiff of coyote whiz a tangy memory. In shady forests, cool moss or even a Douglas fir cone could be utilized, for that rigourous hygenic sensation. The effect was enobling to say the least.

In modern times references have been made to the whys and wherefores of shaggy sticks and oily trefoiled leaves, with the eternally predictable results. No doubt you too have heard some of this oral tradition here, in this very place, and are…