KEN KARCHER

Ken Karcher used to come to visit,
And I'd like to make this explicit:
He came to run the MMTR
And was, at that, quite a star,
For he had the talent requisite.

The year his age was seventy-one
The Karcher Award by him was won.
By this story please don't be bored,
For those who've won the Karcher Award
In twenty-six years have been but one.

I fondly hope before I'm done
That I'll be the second one.
But let me make this clear:
It get's no easier year-by-year
Now that my age is seventy-one.

Fifty miles is a right long ways,
And farther still it seems these days.
The trail is a happy place,
But it's hard to keep the pace
Long after one's best days.

The cutoffs by margins narrow
I used to make with taxed bone marrow.
At seventy-one it's hard to thrive.
Yet toward this goal still I strive,
And Ken Karcher is my hero.

Considering his knack,
If Ken ever comes back,
When the results have been scored,
An octogenarian award
I'm sure they'll need, Jack.

We exchange e-mails now and then,
Always welcome, no matter when.
And, by the way,
I'm happy to say,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEN!