Dear Readers:
One week to go and I'm off to Death Valley for my first trail marathon. What if I get lost in the desert and have to live off tarantulas? Or worse, what if I'm thirsty, and I end up guzzling water from a poisonous pond? Or my face could blister from the scorching sun and my lips fall off. What if my rubber soles melt? Well, not to fear -- Dr. Rick is here; the good doctor will take care of things. Yeah, right -- I've heard that one before.
Anyhow, I'm getting psyched for the race and planning to take pictures. My wife is going with me, but the race directors won't let her on the course; spectators have to stay behind. She'll see me when I limp over the finish line. I'm sure there will be stories to tell. This event is the kind of thing that gets me to telling tall tales. I'll try to keep in touch, but if you don't hear from me, it's probably because I'm lost somewhere in a desert canyon.
Until later.
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2 comments:
Is it just me, or does "Death Valley" sound like that last place in the world one would want to try to run 26 miles on purpose?
Watch out for the vultures!
Hey Baba:
It's good to hear from you. Death Valley's weather was in the 40's to 60's, so that's how I managed to survive the marathon. More to come. Strange place -- deserted, quiet, bone dry, and hardly any visible wildlife, except ravens roosting in the trees (by the motels).
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