Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Get in, sit down and shut up. A long time back, many dog-years ago in 1997, we rolled out the the UltraWhining Checklist [Golden Showers Beta Version]. But...a whole new crop of contendahs have sprung up, and institutional memory fades. The role of the Internet has radically shifted the Dialog Paradigms ®™. It's now YouR Website-R-U. So here, a somewhat updated Klassic for your delectation. And if you are easily offended, read thru to the bottom and get your money's worth. Ultra-Whining Checklist 3.0 I attribute my DNF(s) to the following reasons: (if there are additional causes, use the back of this form) Ia. Early Years My formative years were dramatically warped by the following: 1) I was dropped on my head as a child. 2) My past life as Cleopatra was miserable. 3) Demons were a regular part of home life. 4) I was allergic to beets. 5) I was tragically misunderstood. 6) My invisible playmates always abandoned me. Good. Now we are getting somewhere. ...

Runners, Fellow Listers, thank you, thank you! You are all so wonderful, I don't where to start...or stop! [insert craven shit-eating grin here] First, I want to thank Gawd®™. Nothing Compares 2-U. You are the Race Director of Life, in the Biggest Ultra Of Them All! I want to see what kind of buckles He hands out!!! Secondly...I want to thank my training partners. Yes, every one of you! You know who you are...don't pretend! I know the parts where I shared with you about my work and tax issues...it's a brand new day! My new kidney is doing well too...what with ebay and a billion Chinese, now there's a combo!!! Third, I'd like to thank all of the really "velocity-challenged" out there who made me look *really* good. I couldn't have done it without you. Also all of you who were busy hiding in the bushes because of the pre-race chili...you have my sympathies. I made up at least 10 places. Volunteers. I love you. Every one of you. Especially the ones that ...

Old spirits to the New Year. A legacy presentation from the Mr Trail Safety KunstSchriftArkiv. This originally appeared in The Journal of CryptoAethnology, Winter 1999.   Part 1 The snow lay in a crisp white blanket on the ground. The trees were shrouded in ice rime and crystals. One's breath hung in the air in silver wreaths. The outlines of the trees were like silhouettes cut by a happy child with way too much time on it's hands with a dull razor. It was so quiet you could hear a bird fart. And smell it too. But all this was far far away from our hirsute Forest Prince. Where he was living, the semi-tropical air wafted in through the glass louvers, bringing in the warm damp vapors of the great outdoors and carrying with it outside remembrance of his morning pot of coffee and chili. He stood in the kitchen, with his distinctively shaggy short squatty legs sticking out of a pair of oversize canvas shorts, his rotund gut spilling over the top of his "69" belt buckle he...

Facts, damnable facts. Peter: It's always good hearing from you! Seeing that we're all real busy these days, I'll make this short and to the point.  [for those just dropping in, here's my original 2001 post that enraged Peter Bakwin ] 1] I stand by my observations.  2] Sharp-focus commentary is not "picking on you"; it's part of the "balls to wall" experience.  3] If I am living a dull and creativity-challenged life, let me know. I'll be at Highline 50 next week, Mile 44. [But, time's a wasting! Back to the main show...]  4] I don't dispute your reasons for pre-announcing your intentions. What was fascinating how you two did it. The terms "enabled" and "enabling" come to mind; along with "safari hunting with a brass-band".  5] Unsupported. Unsupported. Unsupported. Big noises about that. Now it's easy to say otherwise.  Whether or not Tweit, Hoff, LaCava or anybody else had support is beside the po...

I love this talk about John Muir Trail and "record fever". There's such a rancid desperate air about it. But it's Spring, and it's with us again.  Blake Wood did a masterful job. The account is low-key, insightful, accurate and bullshit free.  Bruce Hoff did his turn several years ago. Again, low-key, honest, funny and sobering.  Last year Buzzy & Peter treated us to a brass-band fanfare prior to the Great Unsupported JMT Record-Breaking Event. We were directed to the appropriate press flackery, which Was All True, of course.  The air was thick with attitude about it all, Cali trails being wimpy and all, and how Two Colorado Dewds were gonna show ever'body a thing or two about trail running. Unsupported. This was canon law.  The Mountain Gods stirred from their torpors. Pulverized mule turds set the tone, and the howling started there. Four days of no sleep and robotic humping thru what...Gawd's Epic Back Yard. They might as well have run along the si...

When I awoke this Easter morn, I knew things were different. I came downstairs and found that my chocolate Jesus had his ears nibbled off. But I come not to dwell on the travails of the Prophet, but rather to expound brightly on an overly long short run I took on Saturday; destination--Baldy Beach. I departed Baldy Village as a man burdened only with the dynamic sense of the impossible. The snow was in vagrant patches, and remained so past the Alberto Salazar Rustic Showers. Climbing upwards into the clear blue sky, I was surrounded by warm and friendly chaparral. Eventually the trail disappeared beneath snow pack. My moment had arrived. I donned my spiffy 2-toned Redfeather S-25 snow shoes. I continued to climb, the pack was hard. Following the tracks of an unnamed local, I wound my way higher and higher. For some reason the air got thinner. I was sucking down Gatorade like there was no tomorrow. Had I been the Nazarene...don't get me started. Satan however is on call 24/7 with hi...

This was originally dramatized on the Wanker Network, Autumn 1999.   Prologue du Bois   Our portly, avuncular, geezer-Brit sits in a large wing chair. His fingers are steepled and he contemplates, you, the audience with a smirk. It is presumed we are in his living room at the family estate, Wowzer Hall in Jamaica. " Tonight's narrative concerns the rhythmic intersection of privilege and vigour as our dynamic protagonist, a class of high-caste female graduate literature students, and a middle-aged naif all collide one summer afternoon in a college classroom. Let us begin our story with the Aulde Forest Prince. He is outside on the College Green, riding a lawn tractor. And thus we begin..." Whirring and cutting of the mower-blades released heady green aroma. The blue clouds of rich oily gasoline fumes blended together into a ritualistic summer perfume, dispersing into the early rising heat of the verdant summer morning. The lush and fertile campus of the Biddle-Barrows...

The rescheduled SGM50k was run under perfect conditions this past Saturday. For those laboring under sleeting conditions elsewhere, now would be a good time to ignore the following paragraphs. RD Jim O'Brien has designed the San Gabriel Mtn 50k to take full advantage of the vertical delights of Mt Wilson. The course is largely absent of debilitating flat stretches, which can only lead the unwary into the snares and traps of complacency. How many flat loops can any sane person do? How much frozen Hoosier mud does anybody need in this short life? I'm certain that many people asked themselves these questions. Runners got off to a scenic start from the top of Mt Wilson. A scenic view of Catalina Island and the blue Pacific beckoned off to the south, but many had their focus on PowerBars, splits, Gu and future glory. Tom Nielsen hung back in the parking lot, by accident or design is not clear. Perhaps it was too crowded at the start. In any event, a full 90 seconds had elapsed befor...

...Height & Weight Divisions Well now, time-challenged kampers! We've opened the Mother Lode of All List Topics®™ on this one. Let's cut right to the chase! Here is a brief summary of various Divisions that will be ***firmly*** in place for the '01 KornHole Klassic 69hr Track Run. Height Categories: Dwarf, Average, and Too Damn Tall Weight: Anorexic, Uneasy-About-It, Love Handles & Roll-Overs, and Truck-Scale Worthy. Length: Guys, I suspect that this category will be most rife with obfuscations, hedgings, and outright cheating. Applicants/claimants will argue [invariably] that it all depends on who's doing the "examinations". With that said, here goes. [music sfx: cue up Ron Jeremy] Peewee, Piddling, Dull-Normal, "I'm Feeling Good", and "Too Much of A Good Thing". [For those unclear on the concept, here *is* a difference between 9 inches and 9 centimeters]. Just so no one complains of being left out, for the ladies and the guys ...

For those who are running Angeles Crest 100 this weekend, the following is a summarized course overview. Wrightwood to Three Points (0-40mi) Enjoy briefly the tall trees and cool air until you reach Cooper Cyn. Every effort will be made to have the parabolic mirrors and the trail-embedded heating coils turned on and focused for maximum effect. For all you eager trail-monsters, the fun stops at Three Points. Sorry! The gates of Hell will have to wait until later!! HIGHLIGHTS: Look for the Chucky Cougar Cooper Cyn Ice-Cream Stand. Specialties include vanilla drumsticks with the Jumbo Spanish Olive in each one. Three Points to Chantry (40-75) With the troublesome cool air and tall trees providing character-debilitating shade out of the way, you can focus on the clear blazing sunlight and refreshing heat! The tour starts at Three Points, then progressing through the scenery-challenged low hills of Sulfur Springs. After an all-too-brief stay on blacktop to Mt Hillyer, you can enjoy the maj...

Before They were Legends, They Were Gyros. Summer is drawing to a close. The light is changing, the air is cooling, and all the Trail Betties of Summer have mysteriously turned into Boy Scouts. This was yet unknown when the Record Setting Training Team of Casino Bingo, accompanied by his peg-legged Organic Dwarf Scrivener Draw Poker; convened yet again early on Saturday morning to hammer out a cool, self-imposed 29.98 miles. This is a Continuing Saga For the Ages, in which Poker might be Boswell to Bingo's Johnson. However, this narrative is more than the One Eye'd Reigning over the Blind. First order of Business on this still morning: the replacement of Lisa Loeb by virtue of non-performance and breach of contract. The replacement was a tossup between Carly Simon and Gabby Reese. "Nobody Does It Better" lost out to Beach Volleyball hard-bodiness. This alone was worth several 1000-meter repeats up Baden-Powell with 100-m recoveries and negative splits. It was like dan...

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now in the late training season, when the colors of sunlight begin their autumnal progression; is when the thoughts of many weary ultrarunners turn to inflateable sheep. Or maybe inflateable Trail Safety Companions; the better to shepherd them thru the Dork Night Without Armour in pursuit of the 100-Mile Quest. I write this all from memory of course, lounging in Tunica Mississippi, enjoying the sultry charms of spandex'd hotties, doing basic field research on a variety of topics. My eyesight is still pretty good, and I'd say that silicone is pretty large in these parts, as well as those parts too. I digress. For I, Mr Trail Safety, a mere peg-legged Nephew, Trail Scrivener, and Narrator of the various exploits of La-La Wimpy Cali Switchback Hill Runs; every Day Is Like Sunday in anaerobic righteousness. Last Saturday found this Humboldt Idiom Savant Korrespondent wheezing up the indifferent majesty of Mt Baldy in the august and now ...

This past Saturday saw a bright and shiny shuttlebus hauling about 25 crypto-Teletubbies up into the San Gabriels for a bright and shiny training run. This was Day 1 of Tom Nielsen's Labor Day AC Whack-A-Rama. Jay Grobeson waved us all bye-bye at the Windsor Park,ing Lot, having taken depositions that would be used against us later. This run is played out in the force-field of the mighty bulk of Mt Wilson, known also to its devotees as Mt Wilson-Phillips. You will have about 25 miles total to physically ponder your relationship to this mountain. You will also get a pounding sensation from whichever direction is applicable. The hapless runner first enters the Force Field climbing up to Newcomb [or Nukem] Saddle. A short state of grace follows a ridgerun and downhill, followed by a short preparatory penitential climb up to Chantry. Chantry is a mere pullout on the bardo. A surprisingly runnable section awaits, then a longer prayerful climb up once again of Mt Wilson. The Toll Rd is ...

The Surly Bighorn is your friend. Trespassing Spies In The House of Ultra-Love BEEF-JERKY SUMMARY: 37 miless in the San Gorgonio Wilderness Some climbing, a few rocks. Big trees. Minimal sensory overload from trail-betties. 9-1/2 hrs, more or less, whatever. FATTED CALF BBQ: Yes, my ultra-List love monkeys, you've been waiting for this all week. Another istallment of Boldly Glowing Where None Others Have Disregarded Posted Warnings Before. Not mere signs and barbed wire, but pushing out beyond ordinary frontiers of brain-deaded consciousness. You too can shuffle in the footsteps of another high-mileage narrative. Our mandate from the Mountin' Gawdz was a mere, self-imposed 37mile lollipop of mountain fun. This particular installment was in the San Gorgonio Wilderness. This group consisted of Dr Casino Bingo, Balto the Wonder Dog, Tara Lipinsky, and yours truly Draw Poker. In the words of Don Henley, we four were the New Squids In Town. San Gorgonio raises its i...

or : The Baldy Peaks Course Preview A "KONDENSED KLASSIC" VERSION: A training run. Baldy Peaks, 2 times over the 10,067 summit. Heat, dust and dreemz. Lots of elevation gain, rocks, switchbacks of both Eastern and Western proportions. The JogBra team on site. Nose rocks to suit the owner. Bonking. This could be you on race day, Oct 21, 2000. Delete now. THE "BONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT" VERSION. Saturday morning found our Tres Amigos desperately searching for reasons why we couldn't be down in Montclair picking up girls. The clock was ticking, the mighty mountain awaited our feeble efforts with yawning indifference... A wave start out of Ice House Canyon clustered Team 3A in a competitive profile. We are Balto the Wonder Dawg, Casino Bingo, and your humble scrivener, Draw Poker. Christina Aguilera was calling splits at the mile mark. A brass band announced our modest intentions of conquering the wilderness. PR flacks quoted us promiscuously. There was ...