Date: Thu, 30 Dec 1999 16:38:02 -0600 From: "Rich Limacher" THE UNLIKELY ADVENTURE OF KITSCHME SIOUXME AT THE SUPERIOR TRAIL 100 Part 14 For Your (and possibly everyone else's) Eyes Only "Mister Goldfinger Beckons you To enter his web of sin-- But don't go in!" --From the title tune of the original movie As sung by Shirley Bassy [Author's late note: For the ultimate counterattack on "road rage," imagine the following.] Are you thinking about John Barry? WHY aren't you thinking about John Barry? Don't know who John Barry is? He's the composer of the James Bond Theme. NOW you can think about John Barry! "Dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN... BOM-BOM! Bom-bom-BOM!!!" O ..O...O ....O....O...O...O...O...O.... __ / ^ \ ( O ) ~ !! !! BBBBB OO N N DDDDDD B B O O NN N D B B O O N N N D B B O O N N N D BBBBB OOOOO N N N D DDD B B O O N N N D - - -D B B O O N N N D - - D B B O O N N N D - - -D BBBBB O O N N DDDDD 007007007007007007007007007007007007 I've got the sonuvabitch dead in my sights. I'm on a mission. I'm running along peacefully here on a Superior trail in the middle of the morning in the middle of the country--in the middle of "Mo's cow(s)"--and this double agent, presumed a S.P.E.C.T.R.E. operative, has just cut me off. His code? "Passing on your left!" Poppycock! Stuff and nonsense! 006's code was: "Passing on your right!" An obvious imposter. And wasn't he just five minutes ago standing stock-still atop the scenic overlook, looking over the topographic site of NATO's shipwreck, the H.M.S. Edmund Fitzgerald, mysteriously sunken off the coast of Wisconsin sometime early in late October during an equally mysterious sudden "gale"? And aren't I here to investigate? And report back, spot on the Q.T., to tip my hand for M&M? How much does this freakish ultrarunner ahead of me know? Who's he working for? And, most importantly... WHERE ARE ALL MY BOND GIRLS??? "Dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN... BOM-BOM! Bom-bom-BOM!!!" "I'm right behind you!" "Whaaaa????" "I said, I'm coming up right behind you!" I have to stop. I can't take this. This is too much. So I step over to the side of the trail and look behind me. It's this babe. And I mean, a "BABE" with a capital "B"! She's dressed (skimpily, natch) in yellow and blue, and the blue is her shorts. She looks fabulous. But--amazing detail!--this is NOT some 20-something "babe." In fact, I'll bet she's over 40! "Tell me you're not doing the 100-miler," I say. "Right, I'm not," she says as--whoooosh!--she trots right on by me. "I'm doing the 50!" "My God!" I exclaim. "You're LEADING the 50!" "Am I?" "You betcha!" "Great!" "Are you gonna win it?" "YOU BETCHA!!!" ["Dun-diddil-lun-dun DUN DUN DUN..."] Of course, the "babe" is also surrounded by at least one other SPECTRE shadowing her every footfall. Some "dude." And she's chattering away with him *dangerously* close at her heels. The bastard. Runnin' faster 'n' me and pacing the lead woman. I'll show 'im. Immediately, I start plotting my revenge... I'll catch 'em at the next aid station, I imagine. That's what I'll do. And get their bib numbers. Then later I'll check the final race results. I'll find out who this guy is and where he lives. Then I'll contact "Q." Then, he'll build me a secret weapon disguised as a shoebox stuffed with a new pair of Montrails (size 12), which I'll send him. Then, one fine Monday when he opens his mail... BBBBBB O O O O M...............M B B O O O O M.M.......M.M B B O O O O M...M....M..M B B O O O O M.....MM....M BBBBBB O O O O M.......M......M B B O O O O M................M B B O O O O M................M B B O O O O M................M BBBBBB O O O O M................M XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (BOOM?) Sonuvabitch will be blown right out of my Cineplex Odeon. [Author's note: By the way, and I mean no disrespect, but since the actual ST100 race ended and before this "part" was written, the actor who played Q, Desmond Llewellen (sp?), has passed away. He was killed, unfortunately enough (in view of all these recent posts on "road rage"), in a car accident. And I, for one, shall miss him. I don't believe there was a single Bond movie made in which he didn't appear.] So let me just say this, about that. About "plotting revenge" against the runners who pass you in a 100-mile race, I mean. Relax! Chances are quite good that you WILL see them again. It's one of those little-known facts of hundreds. And it's one of those "competitive thangs" that keeps me, at least, going sometimes. In any given 10K, or something, you *know* that once you've been passed, hunnychile, y'all has done did been PASSED! "See ya at the finish,... ...sucker!" You know what I mean. It's just one of those most-known facts about short races. And it's what (maybe) still keeps many of *you* all going. But this fact falls flat in the HUGE races, like hundreds. Hey, I have actually come upon some very *outstanding* type FRONTRUNNERS very late in the race, when they, somehow and most unfortunately, have been reduced to walking. Or, worse, sitting maybe. Sometimes even lying down. I'm tellin' ya, it is SERIOUS out there! So, I'm allowed to be silly and plot my "revenge." Because I just *know* I'll see that sumbitch "double agent" that passed me. I will see HIM again! Unless... (Whoa!) ...he (or *she*) ain't in the same race I am. So now I can stop plotting revenge against my "babe" and her boyfriend. Secretly (because they're no longer within the sound of my voice and I couldn't possibly tell them this in person now if I wanted to) I wish them good luck and godspeed and I hope she wins all the marbles. Besides (also secretly, of course) she appears to be a "babe" who's approaching my own age, and, hey, any time a "babe" like THAT blows my doors off like THIS--I am impressed!!! So, instead, I pick up my plotting against... ..."That Ultrarunner from S.P.E.C.T.R.E." Welllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll... Wait a minute. Is THAT runner also doing the 50-miler? Or, the hundred? ("Wich, Rhich?") And is HE "approaching the age" of our hero as well? Or, is HE just some raw radical upstart greenhorn pussyfoot freshly recruited young "thang" who still has zero respect for his elders at whose feet he really *ought* to bow down, kiss, "hit it," and "GIVE ME TWENTY, COWBOY!!!!" (???) Be sure to stay tuned next time when "The Further Adventures of Our Hero, The Drill Instructor" will return with yet another fresh batch of raw recruits for today's Ultra Army (of retired war heroes who have nothing better to do with their lives than be like me and clog up the nation's single-track trails and screw up the Relentless Forward Progress of all these younger, faster dudes like HIM). HE won't be back in Part 15. But I will! Kitsch Limacher TheTroubadour@prodigy.net