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| Superstars Van 2, bright eyed and bushy tailed on Friday afternoon. |
Second Run: Leg #19, 8.7 miles
Going on an hour or so of disjointed sleep on a hard floor, I was full of nerves going into this run. It was my longest, hardest, and hilliest run of the three. Just look as this elevation chart:
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| According to Garmin, an elevation gain of 749 ft, with a loss of 712 ft. Up and down, up and down. |
1) The temperature: I had no idea what the temperature would feel like in the middle of the night. I packed a short sleeve, some arm sleeves, and a long sleeve for this run just in case. I brought my pair of long capris. In the final moments, I decided to go with the long sleeved shirt because I had been freezing by the time Erica finished up her first run just before 10pm. I figured it had only gotten colder.
2) The getting lost thing. If I made a wrong turn or missed a turn, I'd be lost in the dark in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the Swinomish Indian Reservation (didn't know at the time that's what it was, researched later).
3) The dark. I was both excited and nervous to be running in the dark. I'd read bloggers who had run other Ragnars before who claimed that they simply loved their night run. It was the absolute best. I was looking forward to learning the joys of running in the dark, alone, in the middle of the night. But I was also going to be in the dark, alone, in the middle of the night. Nightmares commence.
4) The potential for injury or abduction (see reference to nightmares above). I didn't know what kind of light I'd have on the roads I would be on, so the odds of stepping in a pothole or turning an ankle on the side of the road were greatly increased. Also, the whole darkness and lack of other people thing only contributes to fears of the sexual predator who must be hiding in the ditch up around the next curve (note to anyone who takes these fears seriously: you are never really alone--there are other runners around you and teams of vans constantly driving by, in addition to the volunteers placed strategically on corners).
5) The hills and the distance. While I can say that I had 749 ft of hills to climb, I can't really envision it. As much as I climb hills and pay attention to elevation, all I know is that 749 ft of climbing is a lot. I also was worried about going too fast or pushing too hard, because my third leg was another 8.4 miles and I needed energy in reserve for it.
6) The tummy. I had eaten randomly, sporadically, and not according to any diet I was used to most of the day and into the night. There are no port-a-potties between exchanges. 8.7 miles is a long way. Enough said.
There was a lot to be worried about.
The run started by weaving me through La Conner, across the Swinomish Channel, and into the Indian Reservation. All fears of getting lost were immediately forgotten as I remember that the directional Ragnar signs had very bright red LED lights blinking at the top of them that you could see from a mile away. They were literally impossible to miss. Also, I felt like the route was marked much more frequently and there were more volunteers guiding you through tricky turns. I'm assuming Ragnar does this on purpose for legs that most people will run at night. You'd think these Ragnar people had done this before or something...
As soon as I entered the Indian Reservation, I found myself on a tree-lined road with no street lights and nothing around. I passed a runner or two and a runner or two passed me. Usually I could see the blinking taillights of someone up ahead or turn back and see the headlamp of someone behind. But we were spaced far enough apart that generally I felt alone. In a really good way.
It only took me about 2 miles to realize that running in the pitch black quiet of night was exactly how all those other bloggers described it. AMAZING. Life-affirming. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. The essence and complete existence of the void.
I decided at that point that hills didn't matter, time didn't matter, and pace didn't matter. I decided to stop looking at my Garmin and run solely based on feel. If it felt good, I'd keep going. If it didn't, I'd slow down. Whatever my body wanted to do, I would listen. It was in charge.
I slowly began to realize one of the greatest benefits of running in pitch black. With your headlamp on, you can only see about 10 feet in front of you. Which means that you can't see the hills coming. And when you feel the grade of the road begin to rise under your feet, you have no idea how high that hill is or how much further you have to go. You just run. Without the worry or fear or mental battle that comes along with staring a hill in the face. You can't stare that hill in the face, because you can't see it. All you can do is go with it.
When I hit the hills, I climbed them with ease. And when the downhills came, I felt like I could fly. Because I didn't know how long those downhills would be either. So I enjoyed them with every little bit of myself that I could.
At one point, I took a glimpse at my watch, just to check how far I was into the run and it told me I'd gone 6.4 miles. I literally couldn't believe it. No way I had gone that far already. I thought my Garmin had malfunctioned in the dark and was suddenly lying to me. But it wasn't. I had just soared my way through the most amazing 6 miles of running that I'd had in a very long time.
And the temperature...perfect. I haven't had a nice cool run in over a month. It felt great to be running in mid-50 temps again.
When I hit a long, slow downhill, I tried my best to hold myself back. I had one more run to think about. But it was hard. I saw the "one mile to go" sign (Ragnar doesn't mark every mile on the legs, they just tell you when you have 1 mile left), and I smiled. Literally. Like the biggest smile ever. I almost didn't want it to end. It felt like every runner's high I'd ever experienced paled in comparison to this one. It doesn't get better than that.
And then, out of the darkness I rounded a corner and saw the next exchange. I uncurled the slap bracelet, attempted to wipe it down a bit on my shirt, and then passed it on to Jessie for her next leg.
Then it was over. And I was on a high like I couldn't believe. I floated back down to Earth and checked my splits.
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| A bit all over the place, but that comes with "running by feel" on hills. |
The In-Between: from leg 19 to 31
After getting Jessie going on her next leg, we hopped along a ways on her leg to check on her before she went into a long stretch of miles without van support. I was awake for that. I stayed awake for her hand-off to Ana. And then I started nodding off in the back of the van. Over the next several exchanges, I slept off and on, waking up fully or slightly every time the van stopped. I overheard conversations as if I was in a bubble, and even participated in a few sleepy-eyed conversations between wake-ups.
Finally, Erica was off on her 8.9 mile leg to finish out our second round of legs. I peeled myself out of the van at the major exchange and saw the sympathetic expressions of the girls from van 1 as I approached, sleepy-eyed and disheveled.
It was about 11am when I took off. It had been foggy and cool all morning, and luckily the cloud cover was holding strong. I started off feeling stiff and tired, so I reminded myself to slow down and to try my best to enjoy this one at least a fraction as much as I enjoyed the last one.
After Van 1 took off, we drove straight to the next major exchange at Coupeville High School (again no idea where that is). Kevin, our very amazing driver, went straight to the gym to pass out for the full 3 hours we had of down time. The rest of us cleaned up in the locker room and headed to the cafeteria for an eggs, bacon (not for me), and pancake breakfast. And coffee, which served two great purposes. One was to wake me up a bit. You can guess at the other.
After eating we moved back to the gym to attempt some sleep, but Erica and I had both nodded off in the van for quite a while and were a little too amped up to get any sleep. We sat on top of our sleeping bags, chatting, deliriously laughing, and trying to stretch out our cramped legs.
The gym started emptying slowly and time started to dwindle. Before long, Erica and I gave up on trying to get any sort of rest and made our way back out to the van so I could prep for my last run.
After eating we moved back to the gym to attempt some sleep, but Erica and I had both nodded off in the van for quite a while and were a little too amped up to get any sleep. We sat on top of our sleeping bags, chatting, deliriously laughing, and trying to stretch out our cramped legs.
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| Over-exhausted runners trying to get sleep on a way too well lit hard gym floor. |
*Side note on the amazingness of runners and good people in general: It was here that Erica realized she had left her bag, filled with Garmin, credit card, ID, and lots of other essentials in the cafeteria. After failing to find it, Erica found Ana (who was listed as an emergency contact on her RoadID, which was in the bag) and Ana had received a call from a guy who had found the bag. He had moved on already, but he turned it in to lost and found at the finish line and Van 1 reclaimed it for us at the end of the race. A potential disaster avoided thanks to a really nice guy who we never met.
I refilled my water belt, packed my GU, and Bodyglided up (yes, in a parking lot where others could see...we were all delirious runners and I'm pretty sure no one cared when they saw me stick my hand down my pants). Van 1 came rolling in and we all met for the final major exchange.
It wasn't long before Hans came barreling into the exchange (he only had a 2.4 mile leg and was booking it).
And then I was off on my last leg.
It wasn't long before Hans came barreling into the exchange (he only had a 2.4 mile leg and was booking it).
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| Just look at him flying past me. He did manage to successfully get the slap bracelet on my wrist though. Then I stepped back to get out of his way. |
Third Run: Leg 31, 8.4 miles
Again, this run was a mental worry at the beginning. I was running the most mileage of any of the other 12 runners, and this was the leg where it showed. While most everyone else had somewhere between 3 and 6 miles to run, I had another 8+ miler to face. With more hills.
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| Two big guys with some nice flats in between. |
This leg was beautiful. I started by running on some flats through some farmlands (cows, sheep, the lovely smell of manure). I gradually made my way downhill towards the water and got a beautiful view for a little while along the beach.
Then I climbed a hill. A really steep hill. See that one up there just past mile 2? It may look small on that little elevation chart, but it sucked. As I climbed it, I reminded myself of the Nike Women's Marathon back in October. It had some tough hills. I climbed them. Then I recovered on the downhills and went on to PR. I intended to follow the same sort of pattern here.
As I climbed, I passed a girl that seemed to be really struggling. I tried to give her encouraging words, and despite the fact that she shrugged them off without a word (I don't blame her, I get very grumpy on hills too), it helped push me up the hill just a little harder.
Once I got to the top, I ran along through a state park and tried to get fully recovered. I fully enjoyed my long downhill, which dropped me off onto a "Scenic Parkway" (I was with it enough to actually read the sign). Suddenly I was surrounded by water on both sides with nothing but flat ahead of me for a couple miles. I tried my best to absorb the scenery, enjoy the view, and love the run. I didn't love it as much as my night run, but I was still happy to be there doing exactly what I was doing.
This is not to say that I wasn't struggling. My legs were tired. My body was tired. I was thirsty and drank a lot of what I had in my water belt. I was completely encouraged by all the vans that drove by me cheering, whether they were my team or not.
As I came around a turn at mile 7, my team was there waiting for me and seeing them was just what I needed to make it up the final hill. Because, yes, it was a mile-long uphill finish. And I had very little left in me.
As I ran, I had to stare that hill in the face for a while. No dark of night disguised this one. I was tired. I was done. I only had a mile to go. And I had the taste of the disappointment of the RNR Marathon in my mouth. I would not give up on this hill. I would not lose my fight here.
So as I hit the base of the hill with exhausted legs, mind, and body, I easily found my mantra. "Fight." All the way up the hill, I chanted with every breath, "fight, fight, fight, fight." There was a girl in a pink shirt about a quarter mile ahead of me. I wanted so badly to catch her. I gave everything I had to catch her. I couldn't do it though. But I realized in the act of trying that I had given everything I had to give. I couldn't catch her, because I didn't have anything left to give. I had fought with every ounce of energy I had left. It felt amazing.
I didn't stop on the hill. I ran the whole way. I gave it everything I had. I fought to the finish. I passed that slap bracelet. And then I was done. 20.7 miles. Done.
And then, after a minor celebration in my head, it was back in the van and on to finish off the last 5 legs of the race.
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| Leg 3 splits. I went out fast (oops), tried to enjoy it all through the middle, and pushed as hard as I could up the final hill. |
I crammed my tired, sore legs back into the van after about a minute of stretching and cheered on the rest of the crew as they finished off their legs. It's great to see the looks on faces as they finish and realize they're done. One by one, we all finished.
Erica had the last leg. We raced the van to the finish line, scrambled to gather the rest of our team and met Erica just as she was about to cross. The whole team ran through the finish together (a great tradition at Ragnar, everyone finishes together). We finished somewhere around 28 hours, but official times aren't posted yet. However, with scientific mathematical calculations, that puts us at about an 8:30 average overall for the team. I think that should put us fairly up there in the rankings.
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| Team Superstars (plus a couple photobombers in the back) DONE! It hurt a lot to do the Superstar lunge here, but we did it anyways. And yes, I'm wearing compression sock and flip flops. I dare you to judge. |
At the finish, we celebrated, had some pizza (yep, I was hungry enough to eat a piece), drank a beer, admired our medals, shared some stories, and then made our way home.
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| Erica, me, and Ana. First time Ragnar finishers. And the medal doubles as a bottle opener. Kind of awesome. |
This race took a lot of organization, a lot of planning (our team met 3 times over the few months before the race), a lot of energy, and a lot of time.
Would I do it again?
DEFINITELY.
See you next year.
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