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April 25, 2000    From the desk of Richard Schletty, TRC President

Useful Information

"Don’t go crazy. You got too many good years ahead of you."
—Rich Schletty speaking to himself on Joe Schletty’s message center, 3/18/00

I have had an obstruction of the vowels since January of 2000, which has made it very difficult for me to write anything of substance. Nevertheless, despite my horrendous handicap, I am about to provide you with some useful information that is long overdue.

First of all, may I say I’m sorry. I’m the sorry S.O.B. who ran for the presidency of this running club. I ran without qualifications, without skills, without vision, and without a war chest for campaign expenditures. Nevertheless, the boys, in their infinitesimal wisdom, elected me as the captain, the leader, the guiding light, and grand inquisitor. How could that have happened? How can we make sure this doesn’t happen again? By following the wisdom of one Bernard Q. Mike who fitfully refused to vote for me. At first I didn’t understand why. I thought we were friends. But he knew me all too well from days of yore when I failed to deliver a cloisonné pin design on time. (Never mind that the job was within budget, and the quality was extremely high). Have you ever tried to design something for a pinhead? It certainly isn't easy.)

Burning at the Bush

"Hypocrisy is the closest thing to apostasy as we have ever seen."
—Joe Schletty, on his deck, August 10, 1977

Well, last night I was finally able to resolve my writer’s block with my inaugural run of the millennium – two hard-fought miles from The Bush to Dodd Road and back again. I realized right then and there, as my burning lungs gasped for Mother Oxygen, that I, who have been dormant, obese and fallow for several years, would indeed have been guilty of hypocrisy if I had attempted to speak (via the organ of a club newsletter) on behalf of Triangle brethren who are so dedicated to the game of running. So here I sit, on a beautiful Monday morning, feeling at last that the mantle of oppression has been lifted from me. I can speak once again as a fellow runner, one with all who value physical sport above money, concupiscence and volunteerism at the local co-op. I feel a peptide of energy re-awakening in my legs. I am thinking perhaps that these legs will once again dance (Larry gasps, "Oh, no.").

But enough about me. On to other Club News....

January’s Gala Gathering

"The stories of our fun should be told over and over again with comedic zither."
—Larry Mike, 2/31/88

January 7-9 was the weekend of the Annual Gala (is that what it’s called?). Joe Mike, Joe Schletty, Bernie Mike, Larry Mike, Rich Schletty, and Ben Mike assembled at the John and Betty Mike family cabin near Ashland, WI. Two waves were all that were necessary to effectively transport the gala-goers from the Twin Cities to the lakeside pavilion. Ben, who is not one to "hedgie" his bets, managed to make arrangements to have Hedgie (Richy) accompany him for the 2nd wave going up Saturday afternoon. Ben was a little bit soaked from the post-game revelry with his broomball hockey team, so I commandeered the steering wheel while Ben sat back and spoke of his dark past while feeding Richy pungent shards of Alaskan salmon. Richy also spoke of his drab past. We came to a mutual understanding. Ben no longer thinks of me as a stuffed shirt, and I no longer think of him as the younger brother of his older brothers – I now consider him a man in his own right, a West Sider standing tall in his own duck boots, a gentleman and a judge of good whine.

Benny Boy and I rendezvoused with other members of the club at the Pink Tavern on Saturday at about 5 p.m. Good timing. The beer was flowing and the pool tables were groomed and ready for competition. And what a great gaming experience it was! I won both my matches. In fact, I haven’t lost a pool game since that brilliant January day. I won 3 straight on Easter Sunday at the L&M Bar in Dundas, as a matter of fact.

We left the bar in due time and made our way to the cabin where food and drink was consumed. Then we went to the casino where I turned good fortune into misfortune. Those gol-durn, one-armed bandits. Durn them all. Next time I will play Blackjack like my big brother Joe. But enough about me. Let’s talk about other club members.

Other club members, even one member in absentia (Winkin’ Johnny Wenker), voted for me as president of the club for the calendar year 2000. Thank you. Thank you very much. Was it because I had a one-sided piece of campaign material? Was it because I did pretty good impression of Mickey Joseph? Maybe it was just "my turn." Oh, but Bernie the Bing Mike didn’t vote for me? What’s up with that? How could you not vote for me, you unforgiving piece of cod. Even after four months of prestigious action and vital leadership, you still can’t embrace me as your figurehead, your primate, your potentate, your president. Get with the program, Bernie, or take a flyer.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk like that. And hey, how about that Joe Mike. Nice guy to talk to if you have a lot of baggage. Joe Mike, Joe Mike, Joe Mike. It’s a good name. He is an asset to our club. Where the hell was Karl...or is it Carl? Karol? The Pope’s real name is Karol. So what? Onward....

Did I say I’m sorry for being late with this newsletter? I’m sorry. I’ve been busy and stupid. But no more. No more. I have spoken privately to some of you about the new day that is dawning within my very being. Really good things, nice things, are starting to happen. Best of all, my Grandma’s Marathon check was cashed. If I can’t run all 26.2 miles, Bernie will gladly and lovingly run half (13.1 miles) for me. He was a sorry, sunken-faced, pock-marked loser again this year for not having been selected in the half-marathon lottery – even after sending a substantial "contribution" to the Half-Marathon Relief Station Fund. Son, bribery will get you nowhere. But enough about me....

Running Club Members Update

"Stay out of da mudholes – you know whad I mean."
—Grampa Ben Mike to Joe Schletty (in Vietnam) via audio tape, 1/3/70

Joe "Hedgie" Schletty claims to have lost 50 lbs – he says he down to a svelte 220 lbs. I don’t know. I live next door to him every day and I still think he’s a big ass. Can anyone corroborate his story?

Larry "Used-to-Play-Hockey-for-Cotroneo-So-What" Mike is on the road again. He started on 2/22 running 3 miles a day and had lost 30 lbs as of 3/10/99 (the day Ozzie Nelson killed the family’s pet hamster with a potato masher).

Joe Mike has lost at least 15 lbs and runs 4 to 5 miles every other day. He is in pursuit of exlax.

Bernie the Richy-Doubter Mike runs 3 miles a day but has no zither compelling him to run a full marathon. Where did you lose your zither, man? At the Boca Chica Restaurante? At the bus stop? At the Pink Tavern? In a mudhole?

Benny the Ultimate West Sider Mike says his knees are feeling good. Runs 3 miles a day. Has lost 15 lbs. I mean, like who can corroborate this shit? Benny! Stay out of the mud holes.

Johnny Steady-As-She-Goes Wenker is in good shape. No change there. Hey, Johnny, I saw you running through Cherokee Park one day. And you don’t even live in Larry’s old house any more. This guy is for real! Comes all the way from Mendota Heights to re-live the West Side dream!

Karl Stadstad does his usual thing – 3 to 4 miles a day. Way to go, Karl. See you on the circuit soon.

Richy Schletty (aka Ricardo Lardo) is a sad sack of shit. I am sick and jealous of you automatons who can kick out the mileage every week of every month of every year of every millennium like it’s fun or something. Man, I hate running. How can I break on through to the other side – psychologically and physically? Is there no hope for me? Am I like a bandit without a crowbar? A dog without a bone? A musician without a zither? A tightrope walker without tights?

A New Name for the Club?

"What’s in a name?"

—William Shakespeare, 1515, on the occasion of the Globe Theatre’s Inaugural Production, ‘The Gimpes of Nockwurst.’

Some of the boys have expressed a desire to change the name of the Triangle Running Club to something more besmirching our present athleticism, statures within society, and innate predispositions. Here are some possibilities. Please cast your lot, men.



Road Masters


Asphalt Trackers


The Gimpes of Nockwurst


Power Pack


Toe Jam


"You Boys" (w/ Johnny accent)


Triangle Running Club


The Octagonals


The Cloisonné Pinheads


Road Misters


Flatulent Posse


Southeast Suburban Boil Lancers


Road Meisters


The Sidetones


Multi-Angular Running Club


Blistering Pates


Curb Runners


Larry Is Our Leader Running Club


§ (symbol for the club formerly known as the Triangle Running Club)


[write in] ___________________________________________
Bernie Mike write in: "bushrunners"

Send this ballot along with $5.00 P&H to Schletty Graphics, 712 Smith Ave. So., St. Paul, MN 55107. Or call 651-222-2526.

The Schedule of Bush Runs and Sanctioned Races

Sorry, boys. I ran out of time. I might have something for you by the end of August.


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