Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Course profile map with cryptic hand gestures. Wonderfulistic. I was passed by the finest names in SoCal ultras at least once. It helps when you're running different races to get the full impact of major talent. Wh at bites was that twenty years ago I ran th e 50-mile in the same time as I lurched thru the 50k. There was an astonishing number of polite people out on the course, who also included newbies trying on their first trail run ever. It was great seeing them trying and getting it. They got their money’s worth. I met people last year that I completely forgot until this year, when they called me by name. Holy fucking shit—that’s a mind-slip. But they were chill, still dropping me like they owed me money. Race Particulars The course is a perverse T-shaped out-n-back that humps over several ridge lines in northern LA Co. Last year I tried on the 50-mi outing for size, and got pulled at 29 miles, taking the drop-down to a 50k . Yes, it used to be a loop, but that w...

LG prior to Shadow of the Giants 50k with Magic Race Number. The lesser the accomplishment the bigger the picture. Action-selfie by Geoff Cordner. Don't hold it against him. Everything you’ve read about this race* is true. Now its up to me to provide lies and embellishments. Baz Hawley kept us waiting around prior to yelling “FUCK OFF” to start the race. In time-honoured fashion he regaled us with details about his latest medical procedures, presumably his Acute Mangina. He's retired more times than Cher, but nevermind. The assembled multitudes were busy busting out selfies, whiling away the boxcar waiting and nervous walking typical of these events. The moment the race started, all the real talent ran away. Guys: this means you’re not taking enough time doing What Needs To Be Done. Ladies: this is where the fun starts—Barry White and Suntan Oil. We all know where it goes from here. I did what I do best: boring the living shit out of runners unlucky enough who didn’t get ...

The acid still hadn't worn off. Completely fried after Born To Run 50k, first event in nearly 21 months. Taken along side Hwy 154 N of San Marcos Pass, Santa Barbara Co, CA. May 18 2014     The first 10 miles were young love-- it was all so fresh and new. I thought I'd met my soulmate, no thoughts of previous lovers. The 2nd ten miles were inspirationally hard, and so much dialog and learning, but we got thru it, our love crushing and dominating.   As I finished, I became an impromptu celebrity based on my quiet mastery of SKT Method. I was cheered on as an inspirational meme by lawn chairs. Jumper cables were stowed away, the SAR team was told to take a hike. The final 11 miles were bitter and judgemental. The harsh light of day revealed that we had nothing to say, because it was all about you. And I blame you. Literally. And shit. RD Luis Escobar, pre-race trail briefing. Or perhaps you weren't paying attention. Born to Run ultras,  Los O...

Uplifting Social Media Meme An essential part of learning is finding shit out. Seems pretty obvious, but WTF—its not quite like getting married or invading Iraq. I did my first 50mi 90 days after my first 50k—and had my head handed to me on a plate. I finished, but holy hell. My advice on when and how to do a 50miler is given with this knowledge. Your mileage may vary. Just one of my control issues, but you'll figure your own shit out. Or not. All this is a different order of business than charging people money to run 25 miles per week and drag a tire while telling them its gonna get them to the finish line in an ultra, especially a 100-mile. There are people who do that, and should be flogged. Pinoy fun-hogs running the Hollywood Half with a surfboard and climbing rack, plus the Lunas. Somebody's gotta do it. I'd gotten marathons cold-wired well before I even considered a 50k. My then-training level gave me 3-4 marathons a year. But I was getting ...

Its what you need, what you need. My pre-race crystal visions were shattered at 0445 by Norteña music. From 300 yards away, the musicians plaintively elucidated all the primary infinitives of estar, cantar, llorar, mandar and so on. For this I waited 10 years since my last ultra? I silently thanked el Profesor Mauricio for bringing me two steps further into knowledge. Slowly, I began firing on one cylinder, which took a while. After bleeding the master-line, I synchronized my watch from a sundial, because gnomon is an island unto himself. Due to the mist, my astrolabe was useless, but it mattered not.  The parking was now filled by cars with "26.2", "140.6" and similar stickers on them. This alerts thieves that they can steal skanky socks and shorts that smell like ass if they only wait.  RD Luis Escobar, in full authoritative charro regalia, gave an epic hellfire & damnation notification after the orientation speech—"If you come to me saying I go...

The buckle looks like this. No shit. Doppeldonger 50/50: My First 50K Buckle (Part XXII) The gun went off. I was charging up Boner Cyn, arms churning and butt-cheeks flapping. Pretty soon the race was down to double digits. At the first aid station (Chorizo Flats, 4.3mi, 1:20) I wrestled a lawnchair away from a very large woman in polyester tights and a "Lion King" sweatshirt. Her skinny wispy-bearded boyfriend "Nigel" who was wearing a Klingon Starfleet Academy jumpsuit was getting agitated, but fuck him! I was the ultra-stud gunning for my first buckle, OK? I changed my shoes and re-vaselined my face. Now I was ready. The last foot-long chili-dog was history. My loins were girded. I was the Inner Warrior. Here are some notes I made during the race, with my splits: Chorizo Flats, 4.3mi, (1:20) Wanker Hollow Pass 9.5mi Mother's Lament (12.8mi) Highway 69 Underpass (14.6mi) Wheezer Creek (17.2 mi) Brown-Eye Summit (20.1) Bongwater Cross...