Welcome to Letters from Mallory. We have devoted this entire section to the correspondence of Mister Mallory and his trusting readers. Do you have a question for Mallory? Please feel free to ask (be sure to put ATTN: MALLORY in the subject line).
" If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha." George Mallory
Sir Mallory,
I send you this question in the hopes of clarification from you, and that I may pass your wisdom to an acquaintance of mine, that you may or may not know. Your assertion that running is a gateway drug " to far more sinister and self-destructive behaviors" causes a contradiction of sorts in my own thoughts. I concur wholly that running on a road, amongst the masses of zombie souls and these horrible contraptions called automobiles, is to be avoided at all times. Can you expound on the behavior of running in the woods, mountains, great far north or other such inhospitable and wondrous places, alone or in very small parties? It seems the combination of skills required to navigate the natural obstacles, the intestinal fortitude to cover great distances at one time, and the celebratory beverages often provided for consumption at the completion might make this act of "trail running (for lack of a more adventurous term)" befit the behavior of true men. I earnestly await your thoughts on the matter,
James
I send you this question in the hopes of clarification from you, and that I may pass your wisdom to an acquaintance of mine, that you may or may not know. Your assertion that running is a gateway drug " to far more sinister and self-destructive behaviors" causes a contradiction of sorts in my own thoughts. I concur wholly that running on a road, amongst the masses of zombie souls and these horrible contraptions called automobiles, is to be avoided at all times. Can you expound on the behavior of running in the woods, mountains, great far north or other such inhospitable and wondrous places, alone or in very small parties? It seems the combination of skills required to navigate the natural obstacles, the intestinal fortitude to cover great distances at one time, and the celebratory beverages often provided for consumption at the completion might make this act of "trail running (for lack of a more adventurous term)" befit the behavior of true men. I earnestly await your thoughts on the matter,
James
Dear Mr. James:
Given that my prose, in the tradition of Churchill and Yeats, is precise, clear, and accurate your call for "clarification" combined with your accusations of "contradiction" represent clear acts of provocation and insubordination. If you were near to me I would command you to ready yourself to stand tall for punitive retribution. And should you attempt to run away into the woods(as you people are apt to do in times of stress), be assured that I would follow on my bicycle and administer to you a strong dose of old style discipline.
Your desperate pleas on behalf of your "acquaintance" for recognition for the running community would perhaps elicit a supportive, albeit feigned response from a more compassionate man. But James, you Sir, deserve the hard truth. Smallish children and women-folk run, Men stand and fight. Running away from your inadequacies is never, ever a righteous act. Furthermore, running with like-minded, frightened others in a "small" band through the woods is tantamount to an unrestrained chaotic retreat from courage and honor. I say Stand and Fight and be a MAN! And when the last of your foes have fallen, with honor and integrity mount your bicycle and ride away with head held high.
Tell your "friend" to give up this mundane activity before he ruins his knees and permanently emasculates himself. Leave the running to the magnificent wolves and cowardly sheep and instead adopt cycling and celebrate your manliness before it is too late. The notion that trail running is appreciably different that road running is a simplistic hoax perpetrated upon the masses to sale yet another model of cheap plastic shoes made in Taiwan and the like. Shackleton and his cadre never ran from anything or anybody…
You disappoint, compel your friend to end his propensity to run away…or end your relationship with this runner, lest you risk being counted amongst his people.
Mallory
~STOP~
Dear Mallory:
I'm new to this sport of gravel bike racing and looking to add a new steed to my stable. Could you expound on the relative advantages of steel, aluminum, titanium, wood and carbon? I'm afraid you will just tell me to harden up and ride more, but any advice would be appreciated. Please don't spare me due to my femininity. I'm looking for a bit of a shortcut due to spending far too much of my training time wandering on foot. Someday I'd love to be competitive in these great races.
-Mary Henrietta Kingsley
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Dear Madame Kingsley:
Go home, take stock, and support your family and country. The gravel road life is no life for a person of your abilities. Think of the great feminine role models of yesteryears and pursue a similar tract. The great patriot Betsy Ross, the artist extraordinaire Grandma Moses, the iconic outdoorswoman, Sarah Palin-these are the women to emulate.
Furthermore, you state in your correspondence that you are "afraid." I was confused by that word so I asked my man-servant for a translation. He explained that the word, "afraid" implies a fear of something or someone or a significant apprehension directed towards something or someone. Please forgive me, but this is a foreign word to me and my tribe for we do not feel "afraid." I have had men under my charge shackled, flogged, and the like for displaying less than manly characteristics under dangerous situations, but other than that I have no empathy for those who feel "afraid." I asked Ernest if he had ever been afraid and while he too was bemused by the term, he did admit to being "concerned" a time or two during the famous and decidedly epic voyage of the small lifeboat James Caird en-route to South Georgia.
If you must continue this folly, buy a steel frame from Three Stars Bicycles from St. Paul, MN. Carbon is a gateway drug leading to triathlons and titanium is too expensive.
Best Regards,
Mallory
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Dear Mr. Mallory:
I'd like to inquire as to your thoughts on the best speed work for sprint triathlons. Lifetime Fitness, B.P., Exxon, Haliburton, and Wal-Mart are sponsoring a big-time triathlon in my town and the entry fee is only $478, so I really want to go for it. Plus, some of the proceeds of the race will go to Greg Mortenson. Someday I want to be a real Iron Man and go to Hawaii and be on TV! Do you suggest doing track work with short repeat intervals, or longer speed work such as Fartleks and Tempo runs? Should I hire a life-coach? I have a carbon set-up but its last year's model, what kind of carbon bike/wheel-set should I ask my parent's for?
Also, what are your thoughts regarding using heart rates vs the Relative Perceived Exertion scale for maximum efforts? Or should I get the new Garmin that does all of it? Would it help me to have my VO2 max measured? What about EPO? Thanks so much, < /span> Chip
Ps: Do those carbon fiber pants work, cost is no issue?
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Dear Friends and Loyal Followers of Sir Mallory:
As many of you may know, as I pen this letter, our esteemed leader languishes, albeit with steadfast conviction, in a common jail sharing stale bread and the like with common street criminals. Old Mallory is being charged for disorderly conduct stemming from an incident at a citizen's triathlon sponsored by Lifetime Fitness and Wal Mart, involving several hundred participants, race officials, and a young malcontent known as "Chip."
To begin, upon receiving the above letter of inquiry from this Chip fellow, regarding participating in a triathlon, Sir Mallory, (who has never fully recovered from his untimely death on Everest) essentially snapped! Armed with his trusty ice ax and bolstered by a platoon of loyal and fearsome Gurkhas, Mallory attacked a local triathlon proceeding. Luckily, Mallory had given the order to refrain from exercising extreme prejudice to the Sherpas and thus none of the frail triathletes were seriously injured. Once the Law appeared, the Gurkhas were rightly allowed to leave the scene, provided that they agree to attend an anger-management course, but Mallory was arrested, yet not before engaging in fisticuffs with a legion of policemen, many of whom received bloody noses and split lips for their efforts. Finally a brigade of National Guard soldiers was able to subdue the "game-as-ever" elder DBD statesman.
Having spoken to him recently, two days past, via passenger pigeon, he assures me that he is well, that in due time he shall be proven innocent, and that he has found favor with the Warden due to a shared interest in fine brandies. Nevertheless when you hit your knees tonight to thank Your Maker, please include Mallory in your thoughts, wishing him "Godspeed."
But enough about Mallory, he is a big boy, can fend for himself, and a little quiet time may be just what he needs to settle him down a bit.
A cautionary tale follows-concerning running as a Gateway Drug to far more sinister and self-destructive behaviors. The main purpose of this letter is to use Chip's letter as a platform from which to warn the people of the threats associated with running. Running is a gateway drug to triathlons. Chip's decline is a perfect example. Chip began with a local 5k race where he ponied up $25 to run around the city park for twenty-plus minutes. When he finished the race in the middle of the pack, they gave him a brightly colored T-Shirt that proclaimed, "I survived the _____ race," along with a shiny medal and they told him how great he was… When he got to his car on the windshield was a flyer that advertised another race. Chip ponied up for that race as well. In that race he did the 10K (all these races have multiple events and infinite categories of runners) and they charged him $40, which his parents willingly paid, and he won his age group (37 to 38 age category; Clydesdale division, Category 3.5B). He was happy and self-assured and his parents were happy too because he wasn't doing drugs or in a gang or both and he began to even talk about looking for a job.
The trap was set. Chip began to train, he began hanging out at the local Lifetime fitness center, located in a strip-mall on the edge of town near the Interstate. But in order to improve and to fit in with this crowd, he needed more expensive gear. Soon the running was not enough, he needed to swim, but to swim well, he needed a special wet-suit. You know where this is leading…running, then swimming, then… Soon Chip was obsessed with obtaining everything CARBON. Last spring, he stole his Dad's credit card and bought a $9000 Triathlon bike, but the bike did not have carbon wheels, so he spent another $3000 to get the carbon wheel set. His Dad was furious, but his Mom reminded the dad that at least Chip was not on drugs.
Such is a story that is being repeated over and over again across the country. Mallory had the courage to do something about it….do you?
Obsequiously,
Ernest Shackleton
~ STOP ~
Dear Sir Mallory,
I have a circulation issue that makes my hands and feet go cold quite easily. Seeing how you have had great explorations in cold barren wastelands, could you give me some suggestions to keeping warm while biking in the frigid cold?
Many Regards,
Keys
Dear Mr. or Mrs. or Miss Keys:
The nature of your query (and its unclear implications) had the effect of causing quite a stir at the DBD Club meeting last evening as to your gender. Shackleton's contingency maintains that you are a married woman of childbearing years because no true man would worry himself about such trivial and petty concerns as the loss of an appendage or two whilst in quest of honor. If you are a married woman, one can only speculate as to the lack of moral forbearance missing from the character of your husband. Return home to your family and fly straight! The group lead by Mawson asserts that you are a young maiden in search of misguided adventure. If this is so; repent and return to the course nature has set for you and all creatures of the feministic persuasion. Crazy Horse and a few others believe you to be a man of aboriginal status for such a man would not have easy access to a good wood carver and thus would feel less willing to part with one's appendage(s). No matter, I shall do what I can to assist.
I have known many good, solid men that have conducted themselves with integrity and honor sans appendages. Messner lost all of his toes early in his illustrious career and Peary always maintained that he was better off without his toes. In Peary's case, with access to a master carpenter, he had his man fashion a block of Balsam into a presentable set of feet. DBD stalwart, Farrow, sans big toe, while hobbled still gets along. The annals of exploration are filled with men that have done great things without, or the need for, appendages.
In any event, as a leader of men into the polar environs, one will certainly be required to do an amputation from time to time. It's not a joyous occasion to relieve your men of their toes, fingers, ears, noses, and such, but leadership rarely invites pleasantries when on-route. Do your duty with expediency, a sharp knife, and should the frozen piece be that of one's manhood exercise great encouragement, especially if he is a younger lad with no children. It is best to have one's physician do the actual work, but such experts are rarely able to go on extended trips, so it is usually the case that a good-old fashioned British "can-do" approach is sufficient to get the job done. The following is what needs to be done:
1. Ply the man with whiskey (or if he is a ner-do-well strike him unconscious, or give him a thimble of rum). In an effort to build solidary ply all the men with whiskey (and allow yourself a shot or two as well). Yet remember to exercise persistence-of-economization in the use of whiskey and/or rum for most certainly you will be up against it again in the near future for frostbite never rests.
2. Remind the stricken man that to whimper is unmanly and that tears simply will not be tolerated. Encourage a stiff upper lip by extolling the virtues of stoicism and clarity through pain. Before the actual cutting have the group sing "God Save the Queen" with gusto!
3. Remove any frozen gristle, sinew, or the like. Don't spare the knife for it is better to get all the bad flesh. Note: to skimp is to invite gangrene.
4. As implied above, should the injured area include the man's Manhood make sure to give him an extra finger of rum before beginning your work.
5. Once the cutting is done use whale fat oil (seal oil will suffice) to bathe the stump, then wrap in burlap. Again use a minimal amount of oil as you will need it again sooner rather than later. Get your man back on his feet (or stumps) within a few hours time. For to allow him to languish in self-pity can only invite scurvy, flux, or worse.
6. Should you be on a solo effort, just follow the same instructions, but remember to economize your rum intake should you face a more dire situation farther down the trail.
I hope I have been able to answer your questions.
Best regards,
G.M.
~ STOP ~
Dear Mr. Mallory: After having watched all of the Tour on my huge flat-screened TV/Multimedia Entertainment system (I live with my parents, in the basement; but it's my system!), I want in on the action. At 30 years old, I am already a Category 3 racer and I am really wanting to be the leader of a big time professional cycling team some day soon. I want my own lieutenants and domestiques and the pharmacists, etc. to take care of me and then I want to win the Tour and have them beauties kissing on me! Please advise.
Fired up to be "Da Man",
Chippy McNeish Jr.
Dear Chippy:
My friends all call me, George, so please continue to only refer to me as Mr. (or preferably Sir) Mallory. Given your last name, I assume you are a part of that roustabout, Henry "Chippy" McNeish's progenies. Shackleton remembers him as a "simple man" that needed constant supervision with many corrections. Indeed, I once was forced to strike Chippy (with me open hand) to garner his immediate attention and to bolster his flawed constitution. Chippy was a delusional fellow and from your correspondence I can ascertain that the adage "the fruit does not fall far from the tree" applies here. Several things: 1. Quit the road racing game as it is played solely by dandies, coxcombs, and malcontents. 2. I have lead men and I call several leaders of men, "friend." You, Sir, are not a leader, nor shall you ever be a leader.
Just the other evening as we enjoyed a few brandies by the hearth, my dear friends Shackleton, Mawson, and Tȟašúŋke Witkó (aka Crazy Horse) discussed the inherent qualities of a Leader of Men. One vital trait of such a leader is to know thy men, but to also make sure that the men know and accept the ideology of the leader. Shackleton conveyed the following anecdote…
"Recently I was leading a DBD training ride with several potentially quality underlings that also were known to be easily distracted. As a ruse to see if the men were focused and on topic, I let it be known that I was thinking of obtaining a modern road-racing bicycle. As if on cue, both reminded me that in the past, I had always scorned such a contraption as folly. Thus confirming that the men were ready to progress further along in their training."
In short, Leadership is not in the cards for you. Change your name and strive to be a Man. Good luck for with your background the odds do not play in your favor.
Pithily,
Sir Mallory
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Dear George Mallory,
I am writing to you at the suggestion of a friend. As a novice, I am about to depart on a very long, self-supported bicycle ride. My friend recommended I write to you and ask your advice on the subject. I hold my friends opinion very high as he has completed many successful versions of the journey I am about to undertake. Is there any advice you can throw my way?
Also, why should I take your advice anyway?
Frankly,
Anonymous Rider
Dear Anonymous:
If that is your real name. Please take under advisement that a Man would never sign a letter to another Man, "Anonymous". If you were under my charge I'd have you horse-whipped for such a digression. In any event there are several key aspects to keep in mind when planning a long bicycle ride including the model of revolver one should carry. Are you planning on running into highway rogues or simple backcountry thugs? If highway thuggery is your main obstacle, we recommend carrying a 1918 Officer British Military-issue pistol of 38 caliber bore or larger. Should your route follow only backcountry roads, save weight and carry a 1932 32 caliber Double-barreled Derringer. A common thug can most always be quickly persuaded to seek his fortune from other sources when shot in the knee-cap at close range. [Note: use brass bullets as they tend to fly in a better line.] We have found that a whimpering knee-shot rascal tends to dampen the zeal of his mates and the whole matter is usually resolved with little fanfare in due time. Regarding cannibalism, only do so when your mate is clearly dead. It is in poor taste to dine on preachers, choir boys, and nuns, so refrain unless in dire straits.
Best regards,
Mallory
~ STOP ~
