Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

I didn't choose it, it chose me. 'All happy ultras are alike; each unhappy ultra is unhappy in its own way.' Dr Sevende Sandia, obscure Mexican mystic Normally this story begins as One Man’s Challenge—the original plan of a 50-mile ShoppingKart Odyssey; and was thwarted when the cart did not leave the Gelson’s lot. And therein lies the story of redemption, and how the sport of ultrarunning was spared irreparable harm as a result. Read on. Or skip ahead to the fart jokes and trail porn further down. Scenic Chavez Peaks on a sunnier day.   PREQUEL to The Morning Skinny The Sean O’Brien 50 was my first 50-mile race since 1999, where I DNF’d at Leona Divide. On a wild notion I signed up for it, the course was the same one I’d first starting trail running on in 1990. Course begins and ends at Malibu Creek State Park—a 14mi stem with a 22mile loop through Zuma Cyn, then back to the barn. The 100k, 50k, and marathon were run with wave starts on variations of the...

Every neighborhood has its shrine. A year ago I was pulling out of a crash dive of injury and illness where I wasn't running at all. It also occurred to me that I took the wrong ten years off from ultras. No, I didn't wind up with cancer like one friend of mine. I just got served with reality. By March, I was progressing well enough to hold down a 20-mile run—until I broke my left wrist in an airborne fall on a trail that ended with a loud SNAP. Thanks to Rainer and Dave, who splinted me, then drove my whiteout self to Huntington Memorial ER, where it got cast up. And to Catherine Schulz who was my advocate in the ER, who could talk doctor-talk with the ER MDs. Few are this lucky. Would've been nice if I could've washed that arm before it went into the cast, but it didn't go all rank on me. In the Huntington General ER, an hour after I fractured my wrist. I'm being clown-slapped to keep my mind off the break. The drugs came later. Broken bones are com...

Metaphor of my heroic struggle. Santa Barbara, Feb 1980. Film makers will shit a brick and die when they learn about the 2015 SKT Trail Running Movie . Its a documentary about me, dammit. Yes, my heroic metaphoric struggle for world dominance—at the 2015 Sean O’Brien 50 —pushing a shopping cart. With a thundering musical soundtrack too. Maybe with a stray dog at a dark finish line. You'll see me: ...looking at the camera   ... recounting a teachable moment   ... digging deep, hiking the vert, busting the gnar, running my own race   ... cracking manly jokes   ... flirting w Aid-station hotties who are wearing balconette pushup halter-tops and 4” Maximum Drop CMFMs. And it's pouring rain. Don't ask why . ... bagging on elite dewds, etc for being over- talented, skinny punks Cutaways to random various girlfriends looking regretful. Diversity alert: Mexican girls commenting casually in Spanish, no subtitles. Mariachi music. Aid station convoy entourage,...

Latest addition to the Book of Ultra-Numbers. I raised SKT Mastery to whole new depths at Saturday's San Juan Trail 50k, finishing 14min after finish cutoff. This is a career first. Back at the campsite, I got out the matches and built a fire. ‪#‎SlowAndShit‬   First time for everything. I was playing it pretty conservative for the first 20mi. Figured I could hit the last 11 in 3 hrs. Wrong-O. Stride tightened up, trail got a lot more technical up to, then down Holy Jim, then up Horse Thief to the Divide Road. It wasn't until the last 2 miles off the top did I remember something Andy Roth had told me [letting hips relax, rolling into the stride] that I was able to open it up. But then it was too late. When I crossed the finish line, I joked with RD Baz Hawley that it was only 23 years earlier, I'd done the late San Juan Trail 50-Mile. "And you're just now finishing!" Remember the hunters? they weren't looking for deer...they were looking for s...

Beef chili in Saltillo ware, with wine-on-ice in stainless. Prompted by remembering the long camera-takes of Lee Van Cleef in "Good, Bad & Ugly". "A man alone with his thoughts lives in a crowded house" —Don Juan Castaneda, "Conversations With Maestro Sevende Sandia" There is no cell reception in the San Gabriels. I was unwired for three days. $36, cost of a campsite at Chilao. But I'll charge hipsters $450 ea for the weekend, then taser them when they try to Instagram. And all greasy stains at the picnic tables are really bitter tears from the butt-hurt.  The Three Dimensions of Shade The Three Dimensions Of Shade The San Gabriel sun is merciless. You've either found shade, or made your own. I've opted for making it. I have a love-affair with 1" EMT pipe canopies . They beat crappy pop-ups cold. But you won't know this until your pop-up gets gusted into a gully, breaks its back, and you're left with ...

FIRST, A COMFORTING BROMIDE Best way to recognition and applause in ultras is to finish last. All the people who weren’t there at the beginning will be thrilled to see you—because you didn’t wander off the course while jabbering into your smartphone and so on. But I get ahead of myself. SPOILER ALERT: NEW MATH Take note of the following numbers. 9 + (5 + 3) x 2. Not written totally correctly? Too bad. Santa Barbara Nine Trails ; thirty-five miles of asskicking vert. Luis Escobar, RD, now hosts this classic race, the gold standard in ass-kicking since 1990. Anybody who sneeringly references “California Carpet Trails” is welcome to try this race on for size. It climbs and plunges in the mountains above Santa Barbara. Technical out the ass; in both sunny and shady varieties. The smooth sections are on the various sections of Edison roads. They pitch up and down too. No character-debilitating shade here either; its photon-fury at its best. Wear that black t-shirt and be prepar...

Puzzling Evidence of priapic symmetry. Recently there have been reports of nubile young women, dewy ultrarunner wannabes, inexplicably lured off the Pacific Crest Trail from either direction. Perhaps they were getting lost, in the finest Chet Baker tradition. The Judgmental Brothers had discovered enigmatically puzzling land formations on top of Mt Williamson. Ritual observance? Fetish object? Geo-directional ley-line indicator? Was this directional art for aliens? Or merely the lithic whoopie-cushion for pre-contact indigenous peoples? Palmdale to the north. Sculpture points west, albeit foreshortened, enhancing its girthy aspect. Descending the peak, view to the southwest. Each expedition member was left with their own sobering thoughts as to the origin and purpose of these enigmatic land sculptures, far from the sight and purview of commentators and critics.

Its mother loved it too. Some of you are doing, or leading training runs on the AC100 course. Here's a checklist to avoid disaster: LEADERS If you're leading a group, then its YOUR responsibility to make sure you've covered all the details. EVERYBODY STARTS/EVERYBODY FINISHES. how many know the route? How many newbies? Pair up experienced w/ newbies.   It's gonna take more time than you think. If somebody has a critical appointment back in town, they'll be late. Guaranteed. EVERYBODY ELSE Know where you're going. Get the map—the RaceBook is full of them. Study it. That's why its there. Take care of business. Proper dress/proper gear. Just because some Internet Kid Jesus runs with a garter belt and a squirt gun does not make it right for you how much fluids/electrolytes are you carrying? Are there any water drops on the way? Do you know where they are? how many are in the group? You'd be surprised how fast you forget. RUNNERS: The gr...

Bialetti Sexto, Saltillo ware, flatware in vintage Swiss Army tool-roll. Chilao Campground, July 4 2014 The best way to preview the Angeles Crest 100 course is the Three-Day 100. It would break out as a notional 40/35/25. This is the best way to get a real sense of what the course is. Its formidable, unrelenting, and demands your complete attention. I’d done it back in ’96, and it gave me a realistic view of what was needed on Race Day.   Of course, Geoff fucking killed it. Now I'm busy writing my self-congratulatory memoirs with the aid of gin and bitters to take the bad taste out of my mouth. But I'm getting ahead of myself. THE SET UP We began putting together the Hyena Three Day 100 an d invited a short list of friends. The short list is to maximize your effort, minimize drag, avoid chickenshit when other people's agendas start clogging up your day. The base camp would be at the Chilao Campgrounds up in the San Gabriels to minimize driving chores. “If ...

A Prescription Course In Miracles requires proper offerings to assure a good outcome. Adventures In Doctor Land During my last physical, t he doctor unwittingly revealed a voodoo truth in the American psyche: the cure for death is always five years away from today. Tomorrow, it will be repeated all over again. In other words, don't do anything out of the ordinary, and you'll live forever.  I had no idea how much fun it was going to be.  It started with the Self-Assessment Form in the lobby. Sample questions included 'Are you/have you':  …smoke? …own a gun? …drink? how much? …are you beaten by your partner? …take drugs …unprotected sex? OK fine. I checked all that applied. Shortly I was called in, and was met by Sonia, a cute Latina. She was reading off the list doing follow-up, which were curve-balls. Since I was at bat, I gave it my all. Did you smoke? Hell yeah. Years ago. If it burned, I inhaled. Are you joking? Drugs? A very long time ...

Pre-training run espresso, Islip Saddle, June 21 2014. Wrightwood: Mile Zero When Uncle Hal was finished doing the Saturday pre-training run advisories, he said “Larry’s gonna be sweeping, got anything to add?” “Yes I do. If I catch up to you, then your training sucks” Nervous gusts of laughing followed. As it should be. The herd is being thinned. There are runners who are not prepared, coasting on some kind of delusional fumes. If you haven’t learned that showing up without a real cap, wearing dark clothing, eating crap food and carrying insufficient fluids are not sustainable methods for surviving the early summer heat, you’ve got problems. Insufficient mileage? Got injuries you're not letting heal? That too. The main pack thundered off into the distance. I’m left with my own unspooling colorful adventure; the business of getting back into shape. And the Acorn Trail pitches straight up for the next two miles up to the PCT. The last five weeks have been exercises in rec...