Here in Purgatory our idea of fun is to head out to the wilderness and run ourselves just about to death. We did a lot this season with Frozen Ass 50, River Revenge, Canadian Death Race, and Lost Soul Ultra. Trail racing is a form of penance. A cleansing. Atonement for sins committed and those we hope to commit. So, in the tradition of Gorey’s Gashlycrumb Tinies, we offer you an alphabetical introduction to this grand and gruesome sport.

A is for Al, loudly listening to Tool

B is for Betty, chafed by wet wool

C is for Chidi, with tape on her shin

D is for Dave, who quits if he can’t win

E is for Emily, swallowed by mud

F is for Francisco, puking black crud

G is for Gord, with his broken headlight

H is for Helen, vanished in the night

I is for Ian, who gave a cactus a hug

J is for Julie, stung by a bug

K is for Karen, who crashed down a hill

L is for Larry, speared by porcupine quills

M is for Maria, lubing her crotch

N is for Nasir, and his damn beeping watch

O is for Odessa, with blackened toes

P is for Peng, who shot Gu up his nose

Q is for Quentin, who cheered “You’re almost there!” with 70km to go. He’s dead now. True story. And back to the rhymes…

R is for Rob, slashed by barbed wire

S is for Steve, peeing blood and fire

T is for Trace, who led you way off course

U is for Una, eaten by a horse

V is for Vikram, shot as a duck

W is for Wilma, in a port-a-potty stuck

X is for Xeno, blistered and red

Z is for Zelda, who can rest when she’s dead