Every year I spend a weekend with my
best pals running the Ragnar Relay.
Basically we divvy-up a 200 mile running course from the Canadian border
to the south end of Whidbey Island among the 12 of us. We each run three different legs, starting on
a Friday, continuing through the night and finishing sometime on Saturday for a
celebration. This means 2 vans, 6 people
per van, very little sleep, eating and drinking from coolers and changing
clothes in the bushes or nasty little port-a-potties. And quite a bit of
running. During those 30-ish hours we are either in the
van following a runner, cheering someone on at the relay exchanges (while
trying to rest up and fuel up for our own next run) or running. You can imagine that this does strange things
to one’s body. Some may think it odd to choose such an activity, but believe it or not, this is more fun than you
can imagine.
This year along with all the fun there
were a few bumps in the road. Keep in mind that we don’t jog these routes, we RUN. And as sometimes happens when one pushes
oneself, some folks’ bodies rebelled a bit.
Especially our bad-ass Sherry - she had it bad. From the hours between her second run, leading
up to her third race leg, we had watched her face fade from green to a
white-ish gray and back again. She spent
much of her time in the port-a-potty line and chewed many-a-pink tablet in an
attempt to quiet the belly-beast. Her
refrain was, “I’ll be okay. I have a
long time before my next run.” At the
time I was thinking about flying pigs.
Yeah. Right.
We whispered to each other while she
was in the green plastic potty-stalls about who might be able to handle taking her
miles, because honestly she looked like death - no matter how strong her will
was.
Then whattayaknow? I was warming up for my run, after which I was
supposed to pass the wrist baton to Sherry, and noticed that her face was
approaching the living-human color of beige!
After my 7 hilly miles I was happily surprised to reach the exchange
point to find Sherry (instead of an alternate) waiting with her arm out for me
to slap the bracelet onto her arm. “GO
SHERRY!” We all screamed.
The vans always leapfrog their
runners to offer support and it wasn’t long before we could see that she was
struggling. Her stomach was on the high
and treacherous cliff. We leapfrogged,
screamed, played music and cheered all we could. The other van had to get the next runner
ready at the exchange so our van set up at the top of a monstrous hill on the
course.
We didn’t just set up. We set up a dance party. With B-52s cranking out “Love Shack” we cheered
on not only Sherry, but every runner who climbed, hobbled and walked up that
beast of a hill. Our friend Amber flew,
the Pirate limped and Sherry conquered.
All the while we danced, cheered and just about every runner and van
joined us in our rhythmic celebration.
(Disclaimer: The Rum Baton may or
may not have influenced our party.)
After cheering her through, we
followed the runners to the exchange with B-52s blaring. Every single van and runner joined the dance
party. Even the Pirate limped his way
into the exchange and was rewarded with a rum shot from the baton. I won’t take credit for the runners’ efforts
on that hill, but I’m pretty sure our enthusiasm didn’t hurt. Nor did the rhythmic dance music. Sherry ROCKED it. (And by the way, our Women’s team was the
fastest!!)
At the end of the weekend I was more
than exhausted, had lost my voice but I couldn’t stop smiling. I kept thinking about the power of friends,
and music, and fun.
To help readers to
understand the Running Relay, here is a short poem:
Northwest Passage
Twelve people
Two vans
Packed with running gear, goodies and baby-wipes
A day
A night
Another day
On two legs
For three legs
Very tired legs
High highs
Medium lows
And everything in-between
Our mood and conversation sometimes mimics the route we run,
Climbing up to a peak, and then descending into a valley
With surprising twists and turns along the way
Topics cover things we normally wouldn’t imagine uttering
aloud
Discussions of bodily functions
And things that smell bad
Food for fuel? A must
Sleep? A maybe
Laughter? Unavoidable
Rummy yet happy
Hungry but satisfied
Exhausted and already planning for next year
200 miles and a Day later
We are 12 lifelong friends
Because we did this crazy thing together
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