Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Leadville CO, 1994 [Post updated Nov 2021]  The Divine Madness running cult of Boulder CO was a hot topic in the mid 90s. I got to see them in action during the 1997 Leadville 100. It had everything lurid for the pre-clickbait era: sex, running, weird diets, and behavioral compulsions. === (4/09) f urther reading on Divine Madness running cult   : This Women's Sport and Fitness articl e on Divine Madness and a reporter's infatuation has really gotten a head of steam up. I read it with considerable interest, and located the following pressure points: a sense of longing and lack of fulfillment on the part of the reporter observations of a group dynamic that are manipulative the curiosity of the reporter about how to do better some editorial tweaking to pump up the text for the non-ultra readership [which is infinity minus 8,000, give or take]. For those who've seen Yo Tizer in action at Leadville and are willing to remember, it's memorable. Watching the "Y...

In response to rising concern about the Safety Factor In Ultras®™, Mr Trail Safety is happy to announce the creation of Kare-Bear Ultras. Is this Evolution or Kreationism? Ponder that warm fuzzy thought while we happily spool thru the following features: THE RACE COURSES: * HO-Scaled 50k, 50Mile, 100k and 100-mile courses. This HO scale is not what tourists go to Bangkok or Vegas for, but we'll make adjustments *just* for you. Because you are *special* THE COURSES WILL ALL BE: * Gently Rolling * Carpeted in PGA Spec-Compliant Turf * Tree Shaded by Genuine Virgin Old Growth Brazilian Mahogany * Moonlit as Necessary * Marked with Glow Sticks and Really Kute Animated Animated Trolls that grunt and point. THE AID STATIONS WILL STOCK: * Oversize Milkshakes in vanilla only * Yummy Mommy-safe Power Pudding * Tip-proof 80oz Sippie-Kups * NoFat Irradiated Devilled Eggs * Free-Range Not-too-Spicy KimChee * Reclining Ergonomic Wide-Butt Lay-Zee-Boy Doubble-Wide Recliners * Keepsake ging...

I, the Apprentice. Wasatch 100, 1998 Finish Line , somewhere outside of Heber City UT Hey, there's only 9 hrs difference between Brandon and me. And he was profoundly grateful. He'd paced me at Leadville in '97--25 miles of hilarious discourse on poisonous mushrooms, Copper Cyn, lizards, and then some ultra what-all. I was running so he wouldn't stall out from the granny-gear workout. For all of you lucky guys and gals doing Wasatch this weekend. This is when it was easier. Sort of. Or maybe brain-death masquerading as nostalgia, which ain't what it used to be. Looking For Kitty: Free-Range Organic Wasatch Bandwidth We were all Looking For Kitty. This Kitty, and we the fortunate few. Over the course of time, space and electrolytic conversion; private ambitions were molded like sticky Powerbars into public objects. Sometimes art is not pretty. I joined the Limbo Line with 250+ other supplicants. By race end, there were 14 Crimson Cheetahs, sub-...

A long time back, a nameless person suggested: To make trail running really popular, it needs to be on tv. Or the subject of a box office smash. Then you'll have all sorts of folks out on the trail. So, to humor the humorless...here's TRAIL-RUNNER: THE MOVIE! *See gelatinous Hollywood club-rats act out some of your favorite trail-running scenes, and lip-sync lame dialog at low elevation! *See Hollywood actresses with suspiciously large breasts fumble for their water-bottles and flashlights in the day-for-night shots! *Hear the hit ballad "Your Love Is Like a Powerbar" as sung by Celine Dion, Britney Spears, Puff Daddy and the Teletubbies! *Look for the 96-can Limited Edition Pepsi Cans of your favorite TRAIL-RUNNER stars in the BurgerSwamps near You! *Watch and wait as MILLIONS OF AMERICANS just like you decide that they would rather eat a pine cone and bark at the moon instead of running a step. *Gloat at your inevitable Darwinian superiority. See, you really can ha...

This could be you. Have a nice day. I originally posted this in 1999 or so. It has a long shelf-life and the mouth-feel is still wonderful. Recently there have been a spate of anguished "drops" from the UltraList regarding content, tone, and suitability of the message, if not the messenger. Inasmuch as the majority of these messages appear to be from relative newcomers to the sport, or the List, some clarifications are necessary. I want to thank Suzi Shearer and Laurie Staton for their historical reviews of basic Ultra Facts, such as "Grand Slam" info and other epistolary nuggets they kindly shared out amongst all of us. Be glad they paid attention to your requests...they are wonderful people with busy lives of their own. Also: The List is not a 7-11 One-Stop Info-Dump Carry-Out designed to get Newbies thru "Baby's First Ultra". It is a bulletin board. Most of the posts are superfluous and meaningless. Some are even pretty funny, intentional...

Note: Some of the original recipients made some suggestions and I felt that the UltraList in All It's Glory might benefit. Then again, maybe not. This is a Full-Spectrum Data Dump, so plan accordingly . PROLOGUE Yes. The title is a come-on and a cheap shill. For this is really the story of one Andy Roth, who in the shape and form of VisionKwest Seeker "Casino Bingo", came to terms with Truth, Adventure, Manliness and Blood-Suckin' Freaks of Nature known as mosquitos. The wise man wonders why mosquitos don't pick on large and immobile pumpkins or zucchinis. That will be answered later. THE STANDARD NARRATIVE The Normal Ultra-Narrative commences here with the following incantations: When I arrived at [race] I met [folks]. I ate the big pasta dinner at [locale]. I got up the next morning and took a good long [euphemism]. The race began. Things were looking pretty good. My splits were pretty near the [lotto numbers] I had planned. At about mile [tbd] ...

We all know nature is good. Walt Disney and Steven Speilberg say so. Christy Brinkley does too. They know. Especially Christy. She knows plenty about keeping warm in a snow-cave. But now it's coming on to spring, and then summer. Amidst all the pretty flowers, there's our friend Mr & Mrs Poison Oak. Say Hi! to them. They like us, and you in particular. Now, if by chance, you r-u-b-b-e-d any of those shiny leaves on any part of your young bum, it's OK. Really. Here's what we do. 1) Sit back and wait. It's Nature's Way. 2) When the Itchy Monsters come, go ask Mom for several things. Ask Mom if she has any Clorox or a wire brush. Dad may have to get that from his work-bench. Then ask her for a can of lighter fluid and a big box of kitchen matches. She'll have them, because *Moms Know*. 3) Splash on the Clorox, and go to town. Then everywhere it itches, even a wee little bit, just get Mr Wire-Brush to do his thing. He's kind of stern. Then when you'v...

Am I alone in the raw nipple zone? For most runs over 2 hours in the pouring rain, With ground all wet and muddy, I begin to experience tactile pain, With hair-shirts turning bloody. Surely many of you have experienced this exciting effect, But I've come up with ingenious methods of cure! Without resorting to a 7% Solution And for mortification I will defer, That Suffering is The Logical Conclusion. The best news I could hear, Is that my nips will cease to be affected. I'll not slap the Bag Balm, nor apply the duct tape, For my Path Has Now been Selected. I'll straighten my Turban, and declaim: "Beulah, peel me a grape!" --Indolent in Hollywood, Lady Gee-Spot

J-Tree Lost Weekend Millenial VisionKwest 2.0 "You Want It Bad, You Get it Bad. The Worse You Want It the Worse You get it." Sri Mahand IsFast. As was forecast by 'Casino Bingo' and 'Draw Poker', It Came To Be [r][tm]. This weekend's "J-Tree Millenial VisionKwest" at the Joshua Tree Nat Monument exceeded all boundaries of good taste and methane threshholds.Witness the following from a recovered- memory diary: >Hi Everybody! >Woke up real early, went to work, drank coffee, >talked on phone, went to office burfday partee, then >got in the car and drove 4 hours out to Joshua Tree. Woke up and >filled my bottles and traded split info with all the other >CRS JoggerDaddies I saw out there, including Bucky Kibble III, >We started to run on the Poontang Trail but soon got lost etc etc. He missed the boat. Sad to say, this diarist took a wrong turn, and ran in slow circles around the Big Casino off I-10. This is the same I-10 that pas...

Well, its been a year now. Time enough for all those cyber-tributes and all. But one more poem needed to be written. So the Muse wafted over Mr Trail Safety, and these lines were thusly channelled. Diana: A Tribute How did I Come, Into the Light? The car veered left, But I went right. I'd made the scene, All dressed to nines, Then got all worked up, over old land mines. Looking down, From my celestial state, Gee I look good! As dolls and plates! When once I lived, They said I sinned, Now I'm just a candle, In the Wind. Bone Regardez, Mr Trail Safety

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude [Part III: The Final Struggle] The following is the Oleaginous Intro by a Patronizing EuroAmerican. He is seated in an overstuffed wingchair on a set decorated to look like an Auld Englishe Country House. He of course drives a Country Squatter Towne & Country [specific town and country available on request] provided by the sponsor. His hands are steepled, and he smirks slightly as he faces the audience. He puts away his racing form as the red light comes on. Take my word for it, because this is radio. "When we last left Tara and Ethyl, they had completed Parts I & II of Copping Altitude. Let's now join our hapless duo as they undertake Part III: The Final Struggle..." The parts of Byron and "Giftshop Turquoise" were faithfully portrayed by Byron and Ms Leslie, in that order. DAY 1, MILEAGE MINORA: "The 38-Special" Ethyl, Tara and Byron are driving the warp-speed-capable Chevy Oxnard. It has two hamsters under the hoo...

Tara And Ethyl, somewhere between Cascade and Brighton. A Wasatch Fugue In 3 Parts. [In which this being Parts I & II] PART THE FIRST: Getting There Is Most Of The Fun. Ethyl's Gomermobile pulled up to Tara's work. Ethyl was feeling pretty good. The airport was close, everything was styling. Tara is a-bustle and now's set to go. "So Ethyl...when's the flight?" he asked brightly. "Gee Tara, lemme look!" "Happy Faces" turned to "OhShit" real quick, when our two Nimrods discovered that the plane took off in 10 minutes and they were still in the People's Republic of Santa Monica. Exit to the smell of burning rubber. Somewhat later, it's dark outside the plane. And it stays dark until dawn, when Gawd Turns On The Lights. Morning has broken, and it's time for 29 fun miles. One after the other. And so our two hapless runners play CMFM up over Scott's Peak to Brighton. In Brighton they each have a Pepsi, just like on T...

This is a story that is shrouded in the mists of time. It goes back to the daze when UltraRunning As We Know It Today®™ was a bold, virile, and three-legged golem, which upon several Lucky Stars Mr Happy barked with a mighty one-eyed roar. This Golem had hair on the palms, was shaggy in the butt, broke wind whilst running unto the four corners of the world, and it saw that it was good. And it paused not in its pursuits for Gu nor PowerBars, shaped as they were into funny little animals That was before the Standardizers, the Leg-Lifters, The Steatopygic Savages bearing Ski Poles sought to cast nets and lassoes, snares and traps, satchels and paiges over this flared-nostrilled, freedom-loving snaggle-toothed Wild Mustang that it was. The Givers Of Bad Advice, the Low-Mileage Pundits, The Bladder-Blatherers and the Salt Co-Religionists were gathering and making flapping noises. It seemed like only day before yesterday. Into this roiling pond of mediocrity strides a figure that would soon...

Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1998 10:32:55 -0700 Recently questions have been asked about governing bodies regarding "Long trail speed records" The point of contention is Courtney Campbell's attempt on Sam Swisher-mcClure's record on the Appalachian Trail. Mr Trail Safety has decided to clarify matters before the next blister pops. Here are his comments: I. THE GOVERNING BODY Yes, there is a governing body that concerns itself with Long Trail Speed Records. This board [the LTSRGB] is headquartered in the same anonymous converted 1920s powerhouse near Lincoln, NE that houses the Board Of Standards For Peripatetic Velocity. Nimble readers will recall that this Board governs Running Streaks. II. GENERAL RULES: 1] All attempts are recorded by passive infrarometers at terminal trailheads. 2] The LTSRGB governs all attempts at all trails on the North American continent, with exception to treaty zones covered by the Braunoutte-Pinchloaffe Accords of 1922. 3] Attempt verification...

OK kids, the ice has been broken. By this I mean that you can now ask the most improbable questions to people who loosely inhabit the same sport or 'spurt as you do, under the impression that they are all, sight unseen, your "friends". We'll warm up with some hypothetical questions. Let's say, for instance, that... 1] I was going to run my first marathon before I: a] have a late 4th trimester abortion b] attend the funeral of a hypothetical relative after standing up on the plane and sticking my sore butt in people's faces c] wrench all my toenails out with a pair of pliers. 2] I'm having trouble running downhill. Do I lean further forward and: a] apply ButtLube to my tender bum b] carry a gun c] harbor resentments toward a person of the opposite gender you mistakenly spent the night with in a city not your own. 3] You are having trouble in your marriage. Should you... a] seek counselling b] put your fist thru the drywall behid a locked door while your spo...

* The 23rd Psalm. Abridged and embroidered by Lady G, (with apologies to the King James Krewe)   The Forest Prince Is My Pacer, I shall not Bonk. He maketh me lie down in the Gu-spot, And I complaineth not. He maketh me do the wild thing, And I shall not falter. He anointeth my lips with SUCCEED! And I DNF-eth not. I scampereth naked down the Trails of Life, And I am not spanked (well, maybe later). I gather to my bosom the Jaybirds of the field, And verily, the Forest Prince is pleased. For he is the tall wood that crowneth the hill-top, And of righteous girth is his timber. And I shall dwell on this in rapture, For this, and the Rest of my Posts. ORN: Avoided the nettles today, maybe tomorrow.

The majesty of poetry. For your edification and enjoyment, from the "Poetry Korner Kompilation" Erasmus Binkster, editor, [Coprolyte Press, Hellmouth CA, 2000], p 9.  This slender volume has long been out of print, and is somewhat difficult to find.  The Greatest Show: A Poem for Spring  See the pinks, the blues, the yellows, the Reds, Watch the flowers open their pretty heads! For it starts the road to summer, In a field of glory, getting a hummer!  The sun is warm, and it dries my face, As my equatorial zone starts its race! The grasses change from brown to green, And ladies asses in see-through dresses are everywhere seen!  All the cute fuzzy animals are to a Purpose Aligned, The deer, the bear, the squirrel: One Mind, The Primal Fandango is truly hard-wired, Why just waking with wood, makes this boy tired!  With birds in the air, the clouds multi-layered, With a song on their lips, that's Carole Bayer-Sager'd! Tom-tits, jaybirds, robins-no slackers! '...

Ocean in 16:9 format, yo. As promised, a Brief Twice-telling as-told-by-an-idiot of the "Titanic" story, featuring Lady G and the Forest Prince, along with a host of ultra-personalities.   SCENE 1: DOCKSIDE: TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE  The FP is playing cards with a buncha guys. He has 5 aces. The squareheads are pissed, but they are only extras. Lady G arrives in a big floppy hat. She is wearing bike shorts. Nobody notices, because they are digitally produced, and chickens do not have lips. JayBird is writing an ode to Tassel-Headed Korn on EE deck.   SCENE 2: AT SEA Lady G feels the pull of gravity. She is holding onto a flag-pole, minus the barnacles. A Celine Dion song plays somewhere, and a white bouncing ball helps you out. The Old FP is smoking a cigar, lit from the flame shooting from his butt with a Zippo. He sees a periscope in the distance. Far below decks the Ark of The Covenant awaits the arrival of a velociraptor. n0rm is getting the ...

Once it was asked: " Mountain money?" Do we have to bring special money when we run ultras in the mountains? and Mr Trail Safety replies: Aaah yes...Mountain Money. Nothing quite like it. In other times and places, enterprise and necesity dictated using many local alternatives. For in those far-off days, things are not as they are now, and nostalgia ain't what it used to be. And what was considered legal tender? How about... smooth round stones the size of a fuzzy marmot head, warmed by the sun. Or perhaps a fragrant cluster of dried grasses, with the whiff of coyote whiz a tangy memory. In shady forests, cool moss or even a Douglas fir cone could be utilized, for that rigourous hygenic sensation. The effect was enobling to say the least. In modern times references have been made to the whys and wherefores of shaggy sticks and oily trefoiled leaves, with the eternally predictable results. No doubt you too have heard some of this oral tradition here, in this very place, an...

Be The Power That time of the year, again. This is when all good ultra-Bobs and -Betties look deep into their psychic drop-bags and take inventory of how They Can Do It Better Next Year .  Mr Trail Safety has done some preliminary research, and is happy to share out the results. Here's his Up-Close & Personal Resolution List:  I resolve to have the Victoria's Secret Gals as my crew and pacer for all runs and races over 26.2 miles. They will be dressed in "Sport-Appropriate" attire, consisting partially of fuzzy mules/or 4" Chas Jourdan heels, wee aprons so as not to stain them with Gatorade, etc; large silk turbans and dressing gowns when it gets below 60. They will be provided with satin-covered pith helmets and SPF-69 sunblock during the summer months.  I will high-step it over Katherine's Pass in Utah leading a brass band. The humble procession will conclude with a shaman swinging a censer and a chain-saw. Which one will be smoking the most?  My Ensu...