From: RDJT76A@prodigy.com (MR RICHARD J LIMACHER)
Date: Wed,  6 Aug 1997 10:32:51, -0500
Subject: Legend of Pecos Phooey at WS100, Part 7

                           SHORT-SHORTS

Welp, frendz, Ah giss Ah kin squeeezin anudder purt a diss heer tale, heer
awhawl Ah waits fer ma naigst perfesshunnel disastir ta happin.  Ah gots me
sum muckety-muck bossman et McGraw-Hill gwine ta sind anudder chaptir uvviz
buk ta eddit.  Ah giss he tinks Ah'm qualliffyde.  Duz yoo?

OK, about them "shorts."

Now, I don't want to appear to y'all as being some kind of male chauvinist
("pig") as the gals all used to say to, uh, only SOME of us back in my
younger youth, but I've got to tell ya...with that gorgeous woman climbing
on all-fours up that Escarpment at Western States directly in front of me
climbing on all-fours directly behind her...well, this suddenly presents a
kind of female "IN-YOUR-FACE" attitude that, uh, maybe even SHE didn't
intend in advance.

I mean, what was I SUPPOSED to look at--her SHOES?

(Gosh, I honestly couldn't even tell you now if she was wearing any!)

I once put "in" an article I wrote for this magazine here called CHICAGO
RUNNER (which was, you guessed it, edited "out") a "short" observation of
yet another gorgeous female runner who was running in front of me--IN THE
MIDDLE OF MARCH!--dressed only in FOUR (count 'em) tiny items of clothing,
and two of those were shoes!  (It happened again just this past Sunday;
but, of course, it is now July and we men have come to expect this of our
gorgeous female runners; and, of course, I imagine they've all come to
expect us coming to expect this of them.)  Anyway, it was funny because
during that March race this gal was being followed directly behind by AT
LEAST ten different guys who were all making no attempts whatsoever to pass
her.  We were all looking at one another, smiling broadly, pointing, and
otherwise indicating...what, her two SHOES?

No no!  We were all boisterously engaged in a rather exuberant silent male
discussion about, uh, those two OTHER items of (boy-oh-boy) TINY clothing.
(Tell me something.  If men were to wear stuff like that, would the women
all line up behind and smile and signal and point and wave at one another?)

So, what was my newfound Western States trail "companion" thinking?  I
mean, her shorts were microscopic!  And they WEREN'T bathing-suit type
shorts either (like they wear in track and field).  No, they were actual
running shorts, which "rode" on her hips...about six inches below the navel
and about thirty-five inches above the knee.

They were, uh, blue.

(Any other guy that did WS100 this year remember them?  Good gosh.  HEY!
YOU CERTAINLY DO!!  Or else you're lying...to yourself and everybody
else...to protect your marriage no doubt, or something, uh, else.)

She was a tall gal, too, with short-cropped brown hair (maybe reddish-or-
blondish-brown) and wearing (oh-boy-oh-boy) yet another rather tiny garment
"on top."  It was a kind of blouse:  a midriff-baring, very low-cut, uh,
"milkmaid"(?) type blouse with the "gathered" elastic whatever-that-is
which allows the wearer to wear it vertically over-the-shoulders, or,
horizontally across-the-biceps, which is what she was doing.

It was, uh, tan.

(The blouse, I mean.  Oh OK, well, sure.  She was too.)

And, believe me, this was ALL she was wearing.  Which struck me as rather
odd.  I mean, I probably wouldn't KNOW about "these things," but...for a
hundred miles???  If I were a woman, I think I might want, um, maybe a tad
more...support???  A little more fabric?  If, maybe for no other reason,
than only to have more clothing to HOLD stuff in?  Like, um, gel packs?
Or, toilet tissue?  Aspirin?  Cyanide?  (In case I might REALLY want to
fall out...of the race?)  I mean, this cute "big" sweetie wasn't even
wearing a water bottle!  I'm, like, WHAT IS SHE THINKING???

Well, she must've been thinking "I'm gonna beat THIS clown" because that's
exactly what she was doing!  (Of course, looking back in hindsight, as they
say, I can truthfully attest that THAT is NOT what she was thinking.  No,
she would have had to be thinking something like this:  "Ich werde DIESER
Scheistkopf naturlich besiegen!")

[And I'll have to put off telling you how I know that--now--until another
"part" of this tale.  No, no.  "TALE" not "tail."]

But this is not what Part 7 here is supposed to be about.  No, this is NOT
what I set out to write today.  (These things just, uh, "fell out" all by
themselves, I guess.)

No, what I wanted to expostulate upon today was, um, certain so-called
psuito-scientific studies...and their making use of us ultrarunners as
"guinea pigs."  (Maybe my earlier reference to "chauvinists" is what
triggered this idea.  But, maybe not.)

Actually, it was my mentioning the Escarpment which got me thinking about,
uh, "short" subjects like scientific studies.  This is because the very
first aid station of the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run happens to
be located at that Escarpment.  (I think the term "Escarpment" must be
derived from the phrase "It Scrapes Men" because, if you're a man and you
have to climb this sheer wall of "scenic" torture--and you're not watching
what you're doing--you ARE going to get scraped!  This thing is dangerous!)
 Anyway, it's very steep, it's about 4 miles or so into the race, and it is
where they have the very first aid station (and I'm guessing this is
because they're able to use the cable cars to bring up all the supplies).

But before the race (here again I have to preface everything with yet
another preface that I originally forgot to preface everything I was about
to say with) we were all REQUIRED to assemble out back of the cable car
building for a MANDATORY pre-race briefing.  At that time Norm introduced
the race's long-time medical director, who told us that suddenly they were
trying to do an experiment.  They wanted all of us to COUNT how many
bottles of water we would consume the next day from the start of the race
to, I think, Michigan Bluff.  Well, this is cool and I might not otherwise
have any quarrel with the concept of asking us to count stuff for the
further advancement of medical science...but, believe me, starting at that
first aid station at the Escarpment, I began to have a heck of a lot more
mental activity going on...than just counting my water bottles!

So, at the aid station, I only had them fill up one bottle while I stood
gazing at the rare beauty passing in front of me.  One, believe me, was all
I had time for.

Then there was this "other" scientific study.  This one came in the mail.
Apparently, some grad student out there at UC-Berkeley, or something,
suddenly decided that we semi-insane runners of the Western States 100
would make IDEAL subjects (suspects?) for a dissertation on deviant
behavior, or something.  Fodder, I suppose, for her literary canon.

Anyway, she mailed all of us (I think) a sheaf of questionnaires to be
completed, I think, BEFORE, DURING, and immediately AFTER the race.  Well,
close.  And as I said before, I am all for the relentless onslaught of
medical science and the ever-furthering advancement of the psychological
juggernaut, (and I did in fact fill out those forms and mail 'em all back)
but frankly the question of gawking at the shorts in front of you never
appeared on the survey.  So, I don't in fact know how this "dissertation-
to-be" is ever going to REALLY grapple with the tissue, uh, issue of
deviant behavior.

I know I certainly was unable to grapple with it.


[The author here reports that, well, once he figures out how to escape from
the straightjacket...he'll continue this tale of his with Part 8.]

Rich Limacher
RDJT76A@prodigy.com
THE ULTRA NUTTY TROUBADOUR