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  • The Troubadour
    [And yet another in just an endless stream of Happiness/Frolicking/Cheerful/Gleeful/Overjoyful/Ecstatic/Positivity Wednesdays to each and every single all of
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 20, 2011
      [And yet another in just an endless stream of
      Wednesdays to each and every single all of you today! We bring you great
      news of glad tidings, no tithing's, and few taxes. The brand-new
      just-crowned "King of The Road" is Don Winkley. In case you haven't heard,
      he totally championed the Vol-State 314-mile course in something like
      five-and-a-half days. [To be exact: 5 days, 14 hours, 21 minutes, and 32
      seconds.] For an ultrarunner his age, this is awesome. For a human being
      his age, this is well nigh impossible. For a man half his age, this would
      be near record-setting and WILL, furshur furshur, go down in the Annals of
      Ultradom ["Ultradon"?] as one of THE premiere racing performances of all
      damn time. It's a no-brainer then--eh?--that Don also be crowned as today's
      Here, y'all be the judge. See Don's image and likeness and his very own
      words right here:
      And realize how, really, Dos Equis beer has obviously been using Don for its
      spokesmodel all this time:
      We think Don Winkley is due a few royalties or modeling fees at least!]

      His five-day growth of beard has seen more uncharted territory than ever did
      Lewis and Clark.

      He has bravely gone where no man has gone before so many times, even the
      actuaries for his life insurance have lost count.

      Before running The Comrades Marathon in South Africa, for example, he warmed
      up by swimming the Atlantic to get there.

      He would have swum the other way to get there, but was advised of typhoons
      brewing in the South Pacific, the Indian Ocean, and of pirates off the
      Somali coast.

      In less than 10 years, he has logged 1,398-point-151 miles at just one race
      alone. It could be a record, but if it isn't, he's established plenty of
      others around the world of long-distance running.

      He established age group national and world records at Sri Chinmoy and other
      events even before Sri Chinmoy was born.

      He was friends with Sri's father, and advised *him* about siring offspring
      that would change the world.

      Runners half his age have to run twice as far just to equal one quarter of
      his usual daily distance.

      His multiday runs around New York City were so intense, he wore down his
      path to a depth of 6 feet, thereby allowing the City easy access to rebuild
      its subterranean infrastructure.

      He has run across America, but didn't stop there. He has also run across
      Australia, France, Europe, Asia, South America, and, most recently,
      Mars--even breaking David Horton's speedhiking-thru-space record to get

      And, at age 73, he is STILL outright winning footraces!!!


      "I don't always beat everybody to the finish-line beer at the Vol-State ;
      but when I do, I prefer Pelforth. Stay thirsty, my friends."

      ( 00 )

      See (and hear) some originals:


      Also here:

      [and thanks to UltraJohn Price--himself still slogging along in the
      Vol-State--for supplying this in place of that former long and always-broken

      My mark:

      Rich Limacher
      ("that 800-year-old lute-plucking beer-chugging song-and-dance man from
      France who once ran across Paris...Tennessee")

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      Imagine what the good citizens of "The Volunteer State" are thinking as they
      speed along in their pickups--still with the Easy Rider rifle racks behind
      them--yakking on their cell phones, only halfway paying attention to their
      driving, and gawking over at some overaged hippie on foot wearing an
      American flag--pretty much just like Peter Fonda, only without the chopper.
      We're thinking they're way too young to remember that movie in the first
      place, and so this Yankee Folly has no meaning--which, of course, makes it a
      folly, eh?
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