Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

A strong visual always nails the concept. "A man alone with his thoughts lives in a crowded house" —Don Juan Castaneda,  "Conversations With Maestro Sevende Sandia" Seconds before the start I realized I’d left my hand-held back in the car, a quarter-mile away. Holy Shit! So I sprinted back, got it, and burst through the start. And everybody had gone. This was a definite first, a DFL start with Boner Mileage. It was a fitting preview bookend to my 10:00:35 DFL finish *. The start was a clear, calm and very cold 28F start, a sharp drop from the balmy 44F at home. All you Midwesterners can go fuck, it's SoCal. I was feeling totally naked, and only half-afraid. It was so cold, that even the venerable John Vanderpot wore long pants. Ultra-couture aside, staying ahead of cutoffs at this late stage was my only goal. Say goodbye to my little friend As this is a physical sport, your body makes its wishes known clearly. Gwyneth Paltrow should take note.  At ...

This is what a deluged SOB50k looks like when you're pulled. Of course if you were faster you missed out on this. 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 jaun...