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Old Pueblo 50-Mile

by Tom Crull Santa Rita Mtns, Sonoita, AZ March 4, 2006 Krullster’s OP jog report The fore word of this race report is provided by Forest Dump with footnotes from the chronicles of Mr. Trail Safety. I arrived early in Sonoita in order to have plenty of time to hydrate my S shaped body with 1984 Vintage Port provided by Tyler Curiel. Dinner was at the Velvet Elvis where all the groupies had on their various “look what I did” running shirts. My Harley shirt was shunned, but then, after being bounced out of the house after 24 years of marriage, everything was falling in place and normal. I would have worn my Baldy Peaks death march T but it was only a 50k so left it in my drop bag. I set the alarm for 4AM, time enough to get rid of my wheat grass (very colorful craps) and organize all my various pills, supplements to get me through the run with my 25 mile training weeks. Didn’t really work, I usually forgot to take them. This year I was off to a fast start, I had six runners behind me, an improvement of five. Rob Apple and I ran together, discussing how much we drank the night before. He won, two six packs. Wow, now there’s a tough Dude! Passing through the aid stations my spirits were low, Where was Geri, where was Geri? Geri’s humiliating words to me at her aid stations always gave me a quick exit. She never showed, dam, now what do I do? Through the long sandy draw and I suddenly had a peristaltic rush of the lower intestine and where to hide it? I was in luck, there were cow pies every where. I just let her rip in a circular motion with my butt and no one knew the difference. Up and over Gun Site Pass my favorite part of the run, for down at the bottom I usually saw the illegals making it through the underbrush. It was always a thrill to shout the directions to the nearest Social Security office with the flashing red lights on top. Passing mile 19 aid station the sun and warm temps were taking their toll. I had Port stains on my forehead, the racing stripes were now exposed, tough situation to go through. Picked up Lethal Letha Cruthirds at mile 25 aid station. It was a reunion, last year at this time we were hailed on. No chance this year and I needed ice in my bottles. I carried two bottles because the RD said I had to. Finally got into the mile 29 aid station and my body decided to say enough already. My pace really never slowed down though, as I never really sped up all day, go figure! Mile 33 aid station and Lethal shouts out words of encouragement, Tom, you look like shit, sit down for a while. Tom, You’re getting pasty looking, maybe we should walk back to the start finish line, it’s only three miles away to the left. Not Krullster, I’m an Ultra Runner, the Captain goes down with the ship. Actually, I was a ship without a screw at this point (it’s been several years actually ). We got up and headed out for mile 40 aid station. Arriving near the 40 mile mark we could hear Irish music playing, I started to speed up, there might be a cool Guinness awaiting my Chromium starved body. Out of 40 and on to the finish. Up on the ridge line road the Sun went down and it got cold. Letha, Letha, I’m in trouble, I can’t find it. Can’t find your flashlight? Forget it, I just peed in my shorts. Finally we saw Kentucky Camp and I stormed over the finish and into the intersactum of the Cabin and its fire place. I kicked butt this year, I wasn’t DFL like last year. It pays to train hard and eat and drink properly.
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Old Pueblo
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