Subject: Saga of Cold Miner Dick at LT100, pt. 4
Date: Wed, 9 Dec 1998 04:20:51, -0500

Part 4 (after one #@*^#@!! of a long delay)

                   Of Dirt and Pee and Heroes and Mee

Sorry for the long delay, folks, but in the meantime my life has done a
"complete 360" (degree turn) and otherwise gone totally to #@*^#@!! but, of
course, I know that's no excuse.  We're all ultrapeople, #@*^#@!! it, and
we don't know nuthin' 'bout quittin'.  We press on.  We get the job done.
We #@*^#@!! or get off the pot.  No matter what our genderal preference, we
stand and spread our legs and reach down on the left side with our right
hand or down on the right side with our left hand and pull back the fabric
in the direction of the hand we pull with and get the pee out.

We're tough, ain't we?

Well, as you might've guessed, I've been inspired here recently by all the
bad language, earthy humor, and scatological discourse trying to raise up
the level of our lowliest functions to the level of our highest faculties.
An elevation of our most detested eliminations to become subject of our
least likely examinations.  Collectively bringing our [expletives
eliminated] to the fore of our [arguments posited] scholarly seminar.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson himself once said, "There is virtue yet in the spade
and the hoe."

It reminds me very much of that scat lovely publication, sold by Running
Delights at most major marathon expos--and at Sunmart perhaps--which goes
by the profoundly intellectual title of "How To #@*^#@!! In The Woods."
Which also reminds me of how Norm Klein instructed us who have run the
Western States 100 to conduct ourselves while in the presence of all that
nature, even while nature itself was calling.  Emerson was right, you know.
Except most of us don't run ultras carrying a spade or a hoe.

Which brings me full circle back to Leadville and how I, within the first 4
miles no less, and in the total darkness, and while running along the dirt
road with the neighborhood on my right, and while believing that ALL the
neighbors were still asleep, and while not only being called by nature but
by having my lapels grabbed and my face spat into by a very insistent drill
instructing and vehemently shouting nature, and spotting what I thought
would be a good hiding place by one of the neighbor's gardens which, in the
predawn darkness, looked particularly unfertilized and... well, that's a
whole 'nuther story.  (And I won't tell it either, unless the content of
this list really DOES take a nosedive!)

So, you see I've been inspired.

I've been inspired by a few other of my favorite unsung heroes.  I've been
inspired by "Ron," who commented on the news of Norm's own passings, or
holdings back, in rather inspiring terms.  But, I see that others weren't
nearly so inspired.  He reminded me that it really would be a cryin'
#@*^#@!!'n shame if all these long, #@*^#@!!'n races we do suddenly did
lose all their #@*^#@!!'n race directors and all their #@*^#@!!'n support.
And I'd say #@*^#@!!ing shocks like that really would call for shocking
#@*^#@!!'n language.  Lookit how shocked you are.  Lookit how much of this
#@*^#@!!'n stuff I'm using right here!

I've been inspired by Suzi S., mistaken perhaps for Jane M., another hero
of mine whom I *almost* caught up with during one or the other Kettle
Moraine 100s.  (Of course, I'm sure she could care less I was chasing her.)
And I've also been inspired by Geri (who is always so #@*^#@!!'n frank it
IS #@*^#@!!'n funny).  Geri gave us the technical manual of instruction,
Jane gave us the philosophy, and Suzi bought the #@*^#@!!'n contraption.
And she just whipped it out and used it one night, and frightened all the
menfolk clean out of their foreskins!

I'll bet she's good at adding quarts of oil, too.

And, you know, that too reminds me of Leadville.  I had originally wanted
to tell you, by the time I got to part 9 or 10 at least, about how,
honest-to-goodness, coming out of Mayqueen and tiptoeing through the land
mines (boulder fields) before Sugarloaf (the same boulders or mines which
took Stan Jensen's foot off, er, well, damaged his leg anyway; thankfully
he still has his foot)... anyway, as I was rounding a corner by a
particularly big boulder in the early morning's mist, I looked up--just
momentarily, understand, else I too might lose a foot--and there, off a
little ways in front of me, off to the side, just a tad off the trail and
NOT behind any particularly big or bolder boulder, and not far enough away
from traffic to warrant modesty from the squirrels, there stood for all the
world and my disbelieving bloodshot eyes to see:  a completely naked young
woman.  Talk about taking Jane's words to heart!  (Omigosh! Was it JANE???)
Well, no.  She decidedly was not peeing, or #@*^#@!!ing.  She was changing clothes.

And I happened along to become that one odd statistical chance she was
taking.  But hey.  We're all adults here.  If she won't tell you about me
being odd, I won't tell you about her being naked.

If only for that one fleetingly sweet isolated moment in time...

But I digress.  "Ron" would have had his hats for such occasions.  I myself
did it once on top of Squaw Valley, only the day BEFORE the WS100 race.
Perhaps what I saw in the mist of those Sugarloaf foothills (foot-killing
boulder hills) was not an ultrarunner at all.  #@*^#@!!  She could've been camping!

But I still digress.  (But it's fun, no?)  All right, let's not digress.
Let's review.  So far, recently, we've had all sorts of discussion on this
list about #@*^#@!!'n and #@*^#@!!'n and how to, or how not to, #@*^#@!!'n
express yourself, whether you're talkin' about the #@*^#@!!ing or the
#@*^#@!!ing or, in my discussion, the #@*^#@!!ing changing of clothes.
#@*^#@!!  (She looked better without 'em.)  We've also talked about the
#@*^#@!!'n squiggles in the dirt and writing #@*^#@!!'n names with the
squiggles (presumably cursive, not letterblock) and then guessing what the
#@*^#@!!ing writing spelled.  We've talked about #@*^#@!!ing on the run,
#@*^#@!!ing on the run, carrying a #@*^#@!!'n shovel--like that book
recommends--and burying the #@*^#@!!'n #@*^#@!!, and also about carrying
extra little blue (recyclable) baggies for picking the #@*^#@!! up and
placing the #@*^#@!!'n #@*^#@!! inside the #@*^#@!!'n bag and actually
carryin' the #@*^#@!!'n thing to the next aid station!  And then we've
talked about whipping the #@*^#@!!'n thing out, no matter what kind of man
or woman you are, and then actually using that #@*^#@!!'n thing to get the
pee out of the fly on the fly!

Well, now.  But that's not what I wanted to tell you about in part 4.

No, I wanted to tell you about how last time, in part 3, I mentioned some
other heroes of mine, but forgot to mention a guy named Todd K. who jumped
all over my #@*^#@!!'n #@*^#@!! for not mentioning what a hero Jenny
Spangler is!  Well, I've changed my mind.  Jenny S. is a personal hero of
mine, not for whatever she did or didn't do in the Olympics, but because
whenever she shows up for races around here she blows away EVERYBODY!  And
somebody who can move that fast past them all deserves to be everybody's
hero.  And, well, Todd's her trainer (or has served in that capacity) and
this guy has done THE IRONMAN!  No #@*^#@!!!!!!!!!

Actually, what I suddenly decided I wanted to tell you about in part 4 was
that I happened to have been on TV... and then people started talking on
this list about getting ready to enter the '99 Leadville, and here now I
see Tom Noll's most excellent post about the race, and, well, this has all
been just too much for me to stay shut up about.

Hey, in case you missed it, HBO (finally) aired the film they shot out
there at Leadville last summer.  And I was on it!  Ha!  With a speaking
part even!

And guess what?

I missed it too.  (Not only do I not have cable, I don't own a TV!)

Next time I want to tell you about websites.  I don't have one of those either.

Rich Limacher
The Ultra Nutty Troubadour
RDJT76A@prodigy.com