....order information follows below.
"The band of 55, shambling along in a procession of Gothic horror, closed their ranks and refused to yield. They now resembled the crew of a shipwreck, rather than trained athletes. Every foot and leg injury, short of fracture, was eased gently Eastward. shins swollen grotesquely, soles blistered like paint exposed to heat, strained tendons and pulled muscles, festering dog bites. The men's skins had now been tanned so dark that Payne, or for that matter Gardner and Cotton, were no longer readily identifiable. A threadbare track suit was aristocratic garb. Many had their clothes hanging in rags. Bandages that would have brought shudders of distress in Crimea were wrapped around the wounds. Rivers, who took a shoe size of 6 1/2 could only continue in size 11. For 45 of these gallant men there was no incentive beyond pride left. Even the eleventh-place man, Harry Abramowitz, was well aware that he was incapable of making up twelve hours on the man in the last position for prize money, John Cronick."
No this ain't Claude's Big Butt, Team Slug's Fattest Butt, or any current event. But, this was a real, genuine footrace. If interested book ordering information is below. It's a doozy. happy days, john
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