Jemez Mountain Trail Run

"What makes a king out of a slave? Courage.
What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage.
What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist or the dusky dusk?
What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage.
What makes the Sphinx the 7th Wonder? Courage.
What makes the dawn come up like THUNDER?! Courage.
What makes the Hottentot so hot?
What puts the "ape" in ape-ricot?
Whatta they got that I ain't got?"
--Cowardly Lion, The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Courage!

That's what it takes to get up before the sun to run 50 miles through the snow-covered woods, up and down three 10,000-foot peaks and back to the starting line again in Los Alamos. Courage.

And some 400 runners took the challenge Saturday to participate in the annual Jemez Mountain Trail Runs. Local runner Aaron Goldman dreamed up this grueling suffer fest, which includes a half-marathon, a 50-kilometer run and the Granddaddy of them all: the 50-mile run. People spent eight to 12 hours out on the course running their legs off through the slush and the mud and the brambles.

You have to admire these athletes. An event like this goes beyond a simple love of sport and into the shadowy realm of fanaticism. You could see it in the eyes of the some of the participants—that glassy-eyed stare that let you know they had departed into a different plane of consciousness and would not return until they had crossed the finish line or had fallen on the trail, too weak to take another step.

Bomb Town has a tradition of taking ordinary sports and making them extremely difficult. They've done the same thing up here with mathematics, so it's really no surprise. What is truly amazing, though, is just how many people like it that way.

Of course, Los Alamos is not totally unique in having a population of running fanatics. The Jemez Mountain Trail Runs drew plenty of out-of-towners. For a glimpse of some of the other people who entered the race, look here.

Hat's off to everyone who participated and finished Saturday's events! You've shown the extraordinary capabilities of the human species, and your triumph should be an inspiration to us all.

Go see 'Little Shop of Horrors'

Something tells me the Los Alamos Vomitor "news" paper isn't doing its job.

Twice this week the BTNO has received requests to publicize calendar events that should be routine for a "community" newspaper. Maybe the BTNO has found its true calling—as a bulletin board for local events. Maybe that will quell all the grumblings coming from local elected officials and bureaucrats that the BTNO is a "negative influence" on the community.

So here's today's community service pitch (put that in your "glass half full" and drink it!):

Go see the Olions' production of Little Shop of Horrors. The Olions aren't a gang or a club. They're thespians! Like Mickey Rooney! The greatest man in show business!

I haven't seen the play myself, but someone keeps writing in on the blog telling me how gosh-darned good it is. I have no choice but to believe them. I guess. The post was anonymous.

But the anonymous cheerleader said only 40 people were in the audience at the last performance and that's just too danged few. Those kids work hard to put on a play, so the least we can do is go out and support them. A handful of people in the audience is pathetic.

After all, this is the same community where a bunch of snobs were talking about building a $30 million facility for the arts because Los Alamos was such an "arts-friendly" community, is it not? Or maybe that only applies to bowling. But I digress.

So go see Little Shop of Horrors. I guess it would be worth it if only to see how they pull off the giant man-eating plant. I would have gone to see it myself and would have written a review had I only known about it. Where's the publicity? Where are the handbills and flyers? Where was the glowing review by the Monitor?

You have one and only one chance left to see the show: Saturday at 7 p.m. Closing night is always a doozie!

For more details, check out the LAHS events calendar. Thank you.

Lunch with a Leader

Why eat alone when you can dine with friends and a community leader?

The League of Women Voters is hosting its monthly Lunch With a Leader today at 11:45 a.m. in the La Vista Restaurant's (that's the Hilltop House to you and me) Acoma Room.

Today's leader will be Los Alamos County Clerk Mary Pat Kraemer, who knows this county as well as Edward Teller knew Deuterium—whatever the hell that means.

Kraemer has been a fixture of county politics for decades and her insight on issues and events is usually right on the money. So go learn about something besides the propaganda party line that is being ladled out constantly in glossy County brochures or in canned speeches by balding bureaucrats.

If you're looking for a lunch date today, you've got one now. Bon appetite!

Saturday at Ashley Pond

(click image to enlarge)

Has it been so long already?

Five years ago today, President George W. Bush stood on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln with a banner declaring "Mission Accomplished." After doffing the one-piece flight suit he had worn on a Navy S-3 fighter plane used to shuttle him to the carrier, the President stood in front of television cameras in a neatly pressed suit to declare an end to major combat operations in Iraq.

That same day, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld declared Afghanistan "secure."

This month 50 American soldiers died in Iraq, making April's death toll the highest in nearly a year. George W. Bush has forfeited blood and treasure for a war in Iraq that still has no clear objective.

The cardboard façade of competence that the Administration had erected early in its reign is starting to fall apart like a grade-school movie set that had been cobbled together with crepe paper and masking tape. The bare lies have started to shine through.

Nine months from now when Bush (mercifully) leaves the White House for good, he will, as he has done with every other enterprise he has ever touched, have left the place in an utter shambles—a deplorable mess for others to clean up.

With the economy in ruins, the planet in peril and the national morale at an all-time low (unless you're part of the Elite One Percent who controls 90 percent of the nation's wealth), no amount of sloganeering or banner waving will be able to save President Bush from the dubious distinction of being the worst American president ever to serve—certainly at least in my lifetime, and maybe longer.

Mission accomplished.