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KornHole Klassic 69hr Track Run

...Height & Weight Divisions

Well now, time-challenged kampers! We've opened the Mother Lode of All List Topics®™ on this one. Let's cut right to the chase!

Here is a brief summary of various Divisions that will be ***firmly*** in place for the '01 KornHole Klassic 69hr Track Run.

Height Categories:
Dwarf, Average, and Too Damn Tall

Weight:
Anorexic, Uneasy-About-It, Love Handles & Roll-Overs, and Truck-Scale Worthy.

Length:
Guys, I suspect that this category will be most rife with obfuscations, hedgings, and outright cheating. Applicants/claimants will argue [invariably] that it all depends on who's doing the "examinations". With that said, here goes.

[music sfx: cue up Ron Jeremy]

Peewee, Piddling, Dull-Normal, "I'm Feeling Good", and "Too Much of A Good Thing". [For those unclear on the concept, here *is* a difference between 9 inches and 9 centimeters].

Just so no one complains of being left out, for the ladies and the guys out there …

AC100 Course Preview [Hummeresque]

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For those who are running Angeles Crest 100 this weekend, the following isa summarized course overview.

Wrightwood to Three Points (0-40mi)
Enjoy briefly the tall trees and cool air until you reach Cooper Cyn. Every effort will be made to have the parabolic mirrors and the trail-embedded heating coils turned on and focused for maximum effect. For all you eager trail-monsters, the fun stops at Three Points. Sorry! The gates of Hell will have to wait until later!!

HIGHLIGHTS: Look for the Chucky Cougar Cooper Cyn Ice-Cream Stand. Specialties include vanilla drumsticks with the Jumbo Spanish Olive in each one.

Three Points to Chantry (40-75)
With the troublesome cool air and tall trees providing character-debilitating shade out of the way, you can focus on the clear blazing sunlight and refreshing heat! The tour starts at Three Points, then progressing through the scenery-challenged low hills of Sulfur Springs. After an all-too-brief stay on blacktop to Mt Hillyer, you can enjoy the majesty o…

5 Flavors of Sports Drinks, & Other Observations

Before They were Legends, They Were Gyros.

Summer is drawing to a close. The light is changing, the air is cooling, and all the Trail Betties of Summer have mysteriously turned into Boy Scouts.

This was yet unknown when the Record Setting Training Team of Casino Bingo, accompanied by his peg-legged Organic Dwarf Scrivener Draw Poker; convened yet again early on Saturday morning to hammer out a cool, self-imposed 29.98 miles. This is a Continuing Saga For the Ages, in which Poker might be Boswell to Bingo's Johnson. However, this narrative is more than the One Eye'd Reigning over the Blind.

First order of Business on this still morning: the replacement of Lisa Loeb by virtue of non-performance and breach of contract. The replacement was a tossup between Carly Simon and Gabby Reese. "Nobody Does It Better" lost out to Beach Volleyball hard-bodiness. This alone was worth several 1000-meter repeats up Baden-Powell with 100-m recoveries and negative splits. It was like danci…

After Many A Hummer Barks The Duck

Now in the late training season, when the colors of sunlight begin their autumnal progression; is when the thoughts of many weary ultrarunners turn to inflateable sheep. Or maybe inflateable Trail Safety Companions; the better to shepherd them thru the Dork Night Without Armour in pursuit of the 100-Mile Quest.

I write this all from memory of course, lounging in Tunica Mississippi, enjoying the sultry charms of spandex'd hotties, doing basic field research on a variety of topics. My eyesight is still pretty good, and I'd say that silicone is pretty large in these parts, as well as those parts too.

I digress. For I, Mr Trail Safety, a mere peg-legged Nephew, Trail Scrivener, and Narrator of the various exploits of La-La Wimpy Cali Switchback Hill Runs; every Day Is Like Sunday in anaerobic righteousness.

Last Saturday found this Humboldt Idiom Savant Korrespondent wheezing up the indifferent majesty of Mt Baldy in the august and now Septembered Company of Dr Casino Bingo and Ms…

Teletubbies In Hell, or, Another Boring Training Run

This past Saturday saw a bright and shiny shuttlebus hauling about 25 crypto-Teletubbies up into the San Gabriels for a bright and shiny training run. This was Day 1 of Tom Nielsen's Labor Day AC Whack-A-Rama. Jay Grobeson waved us all bye-bye at the Windsor Park,ing Lot, having taken depositions that would be used against us later.

This run is played out in the force-field of the mighty bulk of Mt Wilson, known also to its devotees as Mt Wilson-Phillips.

You will have about 25 miles total to physically ponder your relationship to this mountain. You will also get a pounding sensation from whichever direction is applicable.

The hapless runner first enters the Force Field climbing up to Newcomb [or Nukem] Saddle. A short state of grace follows a ridgerun and downhill, followed by a short preparatory penitential climb up to Chantry.

Chantry is a mere pullout on the bardo. A surprisingly runnable section awaits, then a longer prayerful climb up once again of Mt Wilson. The Toll Rd is rea…

Burning Man Or Ring Of Fire?

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Trespassing Spies In The House of Ultra-LoveBEEF-JERKY SUMMARY:
37 miless in the San Gorgonio Wilderness
Some climbing, a few rocks. Big trees.
Minimal sensory overload from trail-betties.
9-1/2 hrs, more or less, whatever.
FATTED CALF BBQ: Yes, my ultra-List love monkeys, you've been waiting for this all week. Another istallment of Boldly Glowing Where None Others Have Disregarded Posted Warnings Before. Not mere signs and barbed wire, but pushing out beyond ordinary frontiers of brain-deaded consciousness. You too can shuffle in the footsteps of another high-mileage narrative.

Our mandate from the Mountin' Gawdz was a mere, self-imposed 37mile lollipop of mountain fun. This particular installment was in the San Gorgonio Wilderness. This group consisted of Dr Casino Bingo, Balto the Wonder Dog, Tara Lipinsky, and yours truly Draw Poker. In the words of Don Henley, we four were the New Squids In Town.

San Gorgonio raises its indifferent grey bulk 11,200' above the fleshpots…

Sunday School Cantina Of The Damned

or : The Baldy Peaks Course Preview

A "KONDENSED KLASSIC" VERSION:
A training run. Baldy Peaks, 2 times over the 10,067 summit. Heat, dust and dreemz. Lots of elevation gain, rocks, switchbacks of both Eastern and Western proportions. The JogBra team on site. Nose rocks to suit the owner. Bonking. This could be you on race day, Oct 21, 2000. Delete now.

THE "BONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT" VERSION.

Saturday morning found our Tres Amigos desperately searching for reasons why we couldn't be down in Montclair picking up girls. The clock was ticking, the mighty mountain awaited our feeble efforts with yawning indifference...

A wave start out of Ice House Canyon clustered Team 3A in a competitive profile. We are Balto the Wonder Dawg, Casino Bingo, and your humble scrivener, Draw Poker.

Christina Aguilera was calling splits at the mile mark. A brass band announced our modest intentions of conquering the wilderness. PR flacks quoted us promiscuously. There was no fa…

Heat Dust & Dreamz in the Angeles Crest

Heat Dust & Dreamz in the Angeles Crest
[a continuing narrative of the Training Effect]

Summer as we know and love it here in SoCal was waiting for us this weekend. It was omnipresent behind every bush, around every corner, and shrivelling every shade spot within the feeble 33.3333 mile thread of our Saturday run.

Of course, the "Imperialist We" is none other than Dr. Casino Bingo, and yours truly, his infernal helper and trail-dwarf Draw Poker. We were there to time Dr. Bingo on a stretch of trail, perhaps not rocky enough to some standards, but adequate for the enjoyment of most; this time between Islip Saddle and Short Cut [25.91-59.3mi].

We calibrated the colo-rectal odometers [CRO], and were off. The sun had been flexing its chi for several hours. With the rising heat, I detected the smell of bat urine, but realized it was my hat, unwashed from a month ago.

Cooper Cyn was strangely quiet. We had expected to see stoner maidens creek side, but were treated to silence. …

Another 110-Volt VisionKwest

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Casino Bingo and I, the humble Draw Poker, had commenced and completed a "training run" this past Saturday up the Angeles Crest. "Training" and "run" are elastic concepts. It pays to be flexible. It's like hearing "Chariots of Fire" played on a whoopie cushion.

We started at Vincent Gap and took it to 3 Pts. It was 28.88888 miles of self-imposed multi-level hurt. We were there to check up and make sure all the rocks hadn't been removed or smoothed over to non-standard specs.

This was the first really hot weekend we've had. I forgot to stash a cooler with ice-cold Cokes around the halfway point. This was a point of longing and regret.

More pressing than dehydration was a yawning and serious shortage that caused considerable worry. No Trail Betties. None. None anyway, until we got to Cooper Canyon. SOMEBODY was asleep at the wheel, and heads will roll. But we had been promised that Lisa Loeb would serenade us in black-rimmed glasses …

Leadville Advice/Crew & Pacers

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At 12,000', Hope Pass gets all the love. However... Hagerman Pass [approximately 15/80 miles in the course] is the hidden beast in the LT100. Only 500' lower than Hope,  disguised by a pole-line utility road so it doesn't say "big-assed mountain" quite so loudly.

Brandon Sybrowsky paced me from WInfield to Fish—he at a low idle to my determined shuffling. Along the way we had some hilarious discussions on poisonous mushrooms, Mormonism, Copper Canyon in Chihuahua, and  paleoarcheology. For starters.

Around midnight, Bruce Hoff and I had come back over the top of Hagerman  on the inbound leg, when Tom Sobal, Leadville Mountain Man, camping out with his kids, dryly observed "you don't have any time to waste, you're on the buckle bubble".

He was right. I crossed the finish with 40min to spare, to get "La Plata Grande". Damn buckle's so big, I served a turkey on it at Thanksgiving. You'd have to finish the Vermont 100 ten times to get…

Another Tedious Training Run Posting

Greetings! VisionKwesters!!

This past weekend Dr Casino Bingo [Andy Röth] and yrs ever truly, Draw Poker; commenced, delivered and finished a short and indolent 25-mile training run. On Saturday. Wrightwood to Islip Saddle, a clean 25.

I can hear the snickers and guffaws from some of you, but rest assured, in the best tradition of various List etiquettes, you can multiply all the mileage listed by 2.14 if it makes you feel better. I did, & I feel great.

All Great Runs commence with idiocy. If you haven't done this lately, try it. The feeling of accomplishment is enhance if your shorts are a tad tight. I left my hat and sunblock in the finish-line car. Dr Bingo left his post-run sandals at the start. I was able to buy a hat at the start in Wrightwood. It was worthy, but made my ass look too big.

We got to fumble around at the top of Acorn Drive, and managed to lose the trail. After doubling back and forth, in a rhythmic display of incompetence, an up-gully scramble was arranged whi…

NSAIDS: Ultra-convenient Whipping Boy

A while back there were a spate of posts on the presumed dangers and evils of NSAIDS. Whooooooooo, was I scared. There were sober-faced recitations of all the really Baaaaaad things that it would do to you, followed by 2nd-hand fatuous advice from MDs regarding same.

But guess what? NSAIDS were taking the heat for incompetent training, bad "coaching" advice, and poor judgement by many ultrarunners. Several years ago, we were all treated to an account of a gal who turned her guts inside out at Across the Years, who was dehydrated, went to the hospital, was a CCU guest and all that...and NSAIDS got the rap.

I can hear the wailing now, and little hands pounding away on the keyboards. Relax, it'll get yr minds off Jeopardy questions regarding the Southern flag, [of which there are 2: the civil ensign and the battle flag, but that's one for the re-enactors out there].

I digress. Where were we...pain killing! Pain killers MASK pain. Imagine. Blocks transmissions at critica…

I'll Dance With My Reefer

A Pretentious Fat Koach, er, Man regales the unwary with details on stretching....

I'll Dance With My Reefer

A few minutes ago I took off my shoes,
And balanced against my refrigerator.
The calf raises I commenced to start,
I'll do it again later.

I did 45 slow raises with each leg.
I weigh 270 lbs today, [sans clothes].
I fronted my bulk against cool white,
The door against my nose.

As I slid against the enamel finish,
My "he-boobies" a-squeaking,
I was glad I was facing front-to-back,
Or it would have been butt-hairs I'd been tweaking.

I'm glad I can share this with all of you,
I know you follow my gist,
Because each and every one of you,
Are my friends upon the List.

Koach's Eulogy for Frosty

Today's a Day Without Mirth,
In Kanine Happiness, there is a dearth,
An uncritical audience exceeds its worth,
For Frosty's left me, here on Earth.

His favorite words were: "Let's Go Running",
Even though he knew I was just funning,
In small circles 'round [it's "Littleton-ing"],
While by the swings, I'd be sunning.

Frosty's in Heaven and getting started,
Running laps with the dear departed,
I'll remember him as I shuffle broken-hearted,
While at Badwater -- shopping-kart'd.

A POEM ABOUT REAL LOVE

POEM ABOUT REAL LOVE

When the full moon transits Venus,
Is when I start dreaming of gator Penis,
Only in fall when leaves are golden,
Doing hucklebuck like in days of olden.

[still with me?]

Now I'm running with tights so loose,
The guys whistle seeing my lips of moose,
A welcome change from hee-haws,
Yes! I'm past menopause.

[I'm on a roll! So spread me!!!]

When days are chilly I'll eat clam chowder,
Unadulterated by soy powder,
No rigid veg can give me heat,
Like a hot foot-long of gator meat.

Oh my, Oh me
I think I've got to pee.

---Lady Gee-Spot

Voices Carry From SO Far Away

So far from List I have been mopin',
I was unaware my account was still open.
And for all of you who've been waitin' [hopin'],
That Love's Cow-Poke has still been ropin'.

My house will be finished in just about three days more,
And from a great remove I hear the Listers roar,
The bottomless well of salt and more,
I heard a silent hand on My Heart's Door.

I told wise folks back in Philly,
I had my share of city-life [rilly!],
Now I feel like a fresh young lily,
Buyin' lotto tickets with Buck and Billy.

My House of Love, of much is said,
I have a second room--and a double bed,
And o'er the floor you'll gently tread,
And not disturb those getting Head.

But let me tell you of this I know,
For My FP tells me so,
I hear his whistle while I go,
Leaving golden tracks of yellow snow.

Gosh! I feel better already.

ORN: Avoided salt-trucks, dived into ditch. Maybe 4 miles tomorrow.

With Wuv, Lady Gee-Spot

Zane Grey Hi-Line 50/Mile 44/Cinerama Komedy

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(original post 2001, post-edits April 25, 2013)

Now this is probably what you were waiting for. If you get offended easily, please read to the end of the post and get your money's worth. As Bette Davis once might have said..."Unbunch your panties, it's gonna be a fun ride."

At the Friday Nite Pre-race, the BIC Lighters were going off, and runners were throwing their shorts on the stage as Linda and Geri went through the pre-race usual. Amidst the lurking Barking Ducks I could hear "FREE-BIRD!" and so on.

The race started on Saturday at 0500. Lucky for me, I was still in bed. Several hours later I woke up and made some French Roast and watched the Japanese fleet sink into the Coral Sea. Bummer for them, I had an aid-station to Krewe. I donned ritual garb of white coveralls, with nary a wrinkle or crinkle, and had a solemn vest with totemistic numbers therein, several iterations of "69". Photos do not lie, and Komedy is Not Pretty.

After a rendezvou…

Statistical Dredging = Junk Science

A nameless truthseeker once wrote:

Shouldn't there also be some correlation with acute injuries other than
sprains, if the "sweets connection" hypothesis is true? Falls, etc.?
EDITED STATISTICAL MASS

Wake up! Let's call this statistical dredging what it is: JUNK SCIENCE.

I don't know about the rest of the List, [or at least the parts of the List that still have Critical Brain Mass left], but this is meaningless!

However, using this seductive analytical model, we can now describe definite links between the following Categories:

Men => Hard-Ons
Women => Menstrual Cramps
Night => Darkness
Nipple Chafe => Bloody T-shirts

Lets also include links between the remaining categories as well:

Ultras => Fatigue
Trail Dirt => Brown Socks
PowerBars => Funny Little Animals
Letters to "Penthouse" => Reality

and so on.

The point is, ladies and gentlemen; that any sort of linkage can be created usin…

Highline 50, Mr Trail Safety & U

Howdy! all you Happy UltraKultists and Wallet-sized Poster Children...

Highline 50 is coming up fast and furious in your face like the Great One-Eyed Desert Lounge Lizard that it is!

As some of you doubtlessly realize, Yrs Truly, Mr Trail Safety is going to be Large and In Charge at Mile 44. For some, this will feel like Mile .44. The decimal point is meaningless. In which case, all of your Libertarian beliefs will have been thoroughly audited to your own satisfaction.

Or, you could you be like "Tiny girls, Dancing for Gold..." Me, I'll be John Tesh-like; sitting at a tiny toy piano, banging out "Music Box Dancer" or other greats from the Richard Clayderman ouevre. Well, you can't make an omelette with out breaking an ouevre. More on that later.

It is entirely likely that one of the following items will be present:

***Kim Chee
***Chewing Tobacco
***Squeezie Cheez
***30-wt motor oil
***Kessler's Whiskey
***Dog Biscuits
***E-Z Insertable Serrano Chilis
***SPAM

***FIRS…

Hellmouth 100

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Hellmouth 100-Mile Endurance Fun Run and Dog JogFor the Third Straight Year, since 1998 of the Last Century, the Hellmouth 100 is here for our benefit alone. But U-2-Can-Join-The-Hellmouth-100 Family. At the hip [NTB], if necessary. Here it is!

The race starts at 12:00pm sharp, Aug Sept 19 2000 from the fabulous BoehnerDome Mojado County Fairgrounds, 10001 E Milspec Thruway, Hellmouth CA


EXPLOITATIVE INTRODUCTION
Picking your first 100 is a big decision. You will find out many things. For instance: You might discover that legal representation before, during and after the event may be necessary. But let's not dwell on that right yet.

Many races are touted as a good "first time". So are the sisters of a lot of really scary guys. The humididty of Vermont, the poison oak at Western, the potentials for building a great rock collection at Wasatch, the nose-shattering aridity at Leadville, and the blighted trees at Arkansas all make heavy competition.

Not even the prospect of a ne…

SGM50k: 3 Miles From The Top

In which a Race Report is filed regarding the San Gabriel Mtns 50k.

REPORT HIGHLIGHTS:
***Life's A Bitch, then you finish uphill.
***Some runners were drinking Aid Station beer
***Why STUFF Magazine is totally cool
***Blatant Attempted Puppet Abduction
***S&R Dogs that Drink Beer and Find Amorous Couples in the Wild
***RD Jim O'Brien has a twisted sense of humor
***Ian Torrence & Jennifer Johnston win like last year.

So much for the highlights. Now is the hard-hitting report that everybody has
been waiting for. What....really happens at an end-stage aid station?

The morning dawned clear and cold. Perky weather indicators were in evidence
everywhere at the start. The sun rose and not a moment too soon for the
shivering heroes. WIth a shout and whoop, they were off and the Mt Zion Aid
Station Krewe begins its descent. Chucky the Cheez-Kutting Kougar lives
nearby, and has missed the company of chubby hikers due to the recent closure
of the Chantry Flats Picnic Area.

As befits a multi-loop…