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Real Men/Women of Genius #97

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  • The Troubadour
    Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss!} Today we salute you, Mr. First-Time-Ever Crew Person for a Very Competitive
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 1, 2011
      Bud Light presents...


      {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss!}

      Today we salute you, Mr. First-Time-Ever Crew Person for a Very Competitive

      {Yoooooooooooou're gon-na be a paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack muuuuule!!}

      What could be easier, right? You drive the van; she (or he, of course) runs
      the race. All's you figure you need to do is show up. On time. Before
      your runner gets there--to that next checkpoint, aid station, or crew access
      place. Simple. A trained monkey could do it.

      {"Whooooooooooooooo are you calllllllllll-ing a mon-keeeeeeeeeeey?"}

      They never tell you the race takes place in the forest, on mountains, in
      swamps, all over deserts, or throughout jungles, or all of the above,
      sometimes all at once. And before you can meet your runner even at mile
      fifteen, your beautiful new Dodge Caravan is buried up to its tailgate in
      the reddest damn soupiest sucking mud your ass has ever seen.

      {Good thing you reeeeee-newed your Trip-ple-A Mo-torrrrrrrrrrr Club

      Ass, too, is buried. Yours. Up to your plumber's crack in the same damn
      mud. And also? It's grass. You now have less than forty-five minutes to
      "unstuck" yourself, call for a tow truck, and winch your vehicle out of the
      muck. After that, of course, comes the REAL crewing adventure.

      {Maaaaaaaaaaaaaay-be some slo-wer runnnnn-ners will-help-you-push?}

      Do you have the correct course marked on the trail map? Do you even have a
      trail map? Do you have the right fluids? Are they mixed properly? Gels?
      Bars? Changes of shoes, socks, shorts, skirts, tops, bottoms, sideways,
      sweat bands, arm sleeves, and jogbras? And get your mind out of the gutter,
      Jack. Competitive ultrarunners know how to change bras right in front of
      your eyeballs without you ever seeing ANYTHING.

      {"I prommmmmmmmm-ise to co-ver myyyyyyyyyyyyy eyes!"}

      Batteries? Flashlights? E-caps? NSAIDS? TP, moistened towelettes,
      Kleenex, and YaxTrax for the upcoming snow fields? Jack, you DO have your
      work cut out for you.

      {"Howwwwwwwwwww-in-the-hellllll do I carrrrrrrrrrrr-ry all this

      So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light out of that big chest you're humping on
      foot because they won't let you drive here, O Himalayan Sherpa and Mule
      Skinner, because really, when your little hot mama depends on a
      clothes-change at mile 55 and she finds you've stored everything inside the
      ice chest underneath the ice and the beer? She is going to be fully cured
      of ever again wanting to suffer through having another crew. Or frankly,
      after this race is over, YOU.

      {Mis-terrrrr First-Time-Ev-er Crewwwwwww Per-son for a Ver-yyyyyy
      Com-pe-ti-tivvvvvvvvvve Ul-tra-runnnnnnnnn-er!}

      Bud Light beer: we don't care where they brew it; we just dig their

      ( O_O )

      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher
      "your 800-year-old lute-plucking song-and-dance race volunteer from France
      who used to sing knights and schlep supplies all mourning"
      (now on tab at http://www.runrace.net/).

      Book Review:

      Better Resource:

      Yankee Folly of The Day:
      [Elsewhere noted. Probably "Crook Blago" news is stale by now anyway.]
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