Showing posts from 2019

Ultra-Nostalgia Ain't What It Used to Be

I was at a wedding several summers back and a handsome young dude asked me "don't you ever wish you were young and beautiful like me?"

I looked at him, thinking, "...sure."

But I answered him "Billy, play your cards right, and you can be old and ugly like me."

This wasn't the answer he expected. But I deal in the unexpected.

Have a seat.
Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?I see your fresh faces thundering down the trail in your most Recent Race Shirt. You're young and enthusiastic. It's springtime, and Ultras are magical. Your Luck Bag is full, and your Injury Bag is empty. 

As it should be.

In time, typically about five seasons, you'll look around and suddenly wonder "who the fuck are all these new people?"

They'll be wearing their own styles, carrying gear that is different from yours, and probably look at your flat-brimmed trucker cap and oversize Julbo glasses as hopelessly passé. 

They'll be IG influencers, s…

23 Miles & Me: My Drowned Out SOB50k

A massive winter storm front rolled in on the rescheduled Sean O'Brien 50, and hit it squarely in the face. In the Pacific Northwest that's an average day, but here in SoCal its a shocker. The race was torched out of its original Malibu locale by the Woolsey Fire. Now it got drenched in its Verdugo Mountains relocation. It couldn't catch a break this year.

The original field of 250 was 93 DNS—for many runners driving from outlying areas probably bagged it on justified fears of highway closures. 
I was looking for a sub cutoff 50k finish, but didn't get it. The race was called shortly after noon as local mudslides and washouts prompted the Verdugo Mtn park authorities to call the race, the end. Those of us out there when it was called were credited with a 30k finish. Wet-Look Fashion Victims At the starting line from my jaundiced perspective, there were lots of dubious gear choices. For many, not nearly enough rain gear or warm stuff, and a lot of fair-weather bravado. Twen…