Del Sol Ragnar

We are probably certifiably crazy but Kirt and I couldn't resist the urge to do our 3rd Ragnar in just under a year (our 4th is just 7 weeks away!). Within a few weeks of our first one several people from our team were urging us to sign up for one in Napa Valley in September. (Hopefully I'll blog about that one soon. My sis blogged about it here.) Then, before we could even drive back home everyone was whispering about Del Sol which was in Phoenix, AZ this past weekend.

I've deemed Ragnar "my race". I love that it's a team event in an otherwise individual sport. The race takes place with teams consisting of 12 people in 2 vans, everyone gets 3 legs to run (varying in distance from 3-10 miles each) handing off to each other over the course of 200 miles. We finished this race in about 29.5 hours, which happens to be a really great time for a bunch like us. (Finished 29th of 203 teams in our division.) I love the team aspect - I love that I get to support and cheer for my teammates as they complete their legs and it doesn't hurt to have a van full of people honking and waving at me while I'm running!

Every Ragnar has had its good and bad. This Ragnar was in the desert so heat and dust were not ideal, but the navigation of this course was a breeze and my favorite part as always, were my teammates. My van this time was my sweet sister Libby, a dear friend Sarah, her dad Bart, (who also happens to be a dear friend), another AZ local, Lindsey and my sweet husband. I think I've finally got him hooked on these races and it is so incredible to have him with me on these silly adventures.

Our team started out at 9:00 am, but we were Van 2 so we were able to sleep in, enjoy our morning and get to our exchange a little before noon. Our first runner took off about 1:00 and it was HOT. About 84 degrees in the Arizona desert. No shade to be found and dust being kicked in your face around every corner. I was one of the last runners and luckily by about mile 3 the sun had set and the heat subsided. My first leg was 8.6 miles and I'd been watching other runners all day and was excited to get out and hit the pavement. There is something about a long run that lets me relax mentally. I know the end is not near so I don't even let myself think about it. I'm able to enjoy the experience a little more. I decided to start strong and get as far as possible before my van passed me for the first time. I had run nearly 3 miles before they caught me and I was feeling good. I remember Sarah yelling, "You are KILLING it!" and I thought, "I know! I can't believe it!" It was a little scary running in pitch dark along a desolate highway - hoping that the big rigs couldn't miss my headlamp and reflective vest because as they approached I couldn't see a thing through their headlights. As I hit the "1 mile to go" sign I was feeling great. I saw a blinking light pretty far in front of me that indicated another runner and so I gave it everything I had to catch them. As I sprinted into the exchange some idiot on a bull horn was yelling "Hurry up #49, she's going to catch you!" And I was thinking, "I'm #49! and I AM going to catch her!" As I handed off to Kirt for him to start his leg he grabbed my arm and pulled me in for a sweet kiss. The crowd went crazy and now the idiot on the bullhorn said, "Now THAT'S what we like to see!" and suddenly he wasn't such an idiot. I looked down at my watch to see my time - I had run that last mile in 7 minutes and 26 seconds. That might as well be a world record for me. I was beyond thrilled.

We attempted rest on a grass field somewhere while Van 1 ran again. Before we knew it we were getting ready to take off again about 1am. My run came about 4am. Usually the night runs are my favorite. This one was just over 4 miles and I felt like I was looking for the finish as soon as I started. Another team handed off right after I got started and I was sure the girl running with me looked pro. I didn't want her to kill me right out of the gate for everyone to see so I took off fast. Too fast. At the 1 mile mark I knew I had overdone it with another sub 8 minute mile. I looked back to see that other "pro runner" and she was nowhere to be found. In fact, there were no runners to be found. On that entire leg I was passed by 1 guy, (when I acknowledged him and told him "good job" he said, "Ya, as long as we're not talking about this cramp in my leg that won't go away!") and I passed one girl that appeared to be simultaneously stretching out her calves and puking over the side of a bridge. It was a lonely run and I was glad to have it over with.

Another crazy sleeping arrangement, this one in a high school gym with some dude that lit up the entire gym with his echoing snore. I wasn't feeling great - a little feverish and a little nauseous but I did get some rest. Our van was back on the road by 10 and my run came about 12:45. My run was along a bike/running trail and we had decided ahead of time that my van would just go straight to the exchange as they probably wouldn't be able to find me. I took off with a bottle of Gatorade in the heat of the day. By mile 2 I was wondering if all these people on bikes would give me a ride for a mile or 2 (and I still had 4.5 miles to go!) Some random team out to cheer for their runner had a few splashes left in a water bottle. They offered it to me and I asked if they would pour it down my back instead. They obliged. At exactly my half-way mark I saw several teams cheering on their runners. I couldn't believe it when I saw MY team. Sarah sprayed me down with a water bottle, Bart had a bandana soaked in ice water to tie around my neck and everyone else was telling me how great I was doing. I thought about that for the rest of the run. That was one of the toughest runs of my life and I was so grateful to have their encouragement. That Gatorade ended up being a terrible decision. My mouth felt like cotton candy and dumping sweet Gatorade into it just made it stickier. I passed 2 different runners (now walking) and asked for a swig of their water. I'm still a little taken back by my lack of boundaries - but we were all out here together and everyone had their guard down. When I passed the first one I told him he was doing great and this was our last leg! He said, "I wish my shins would just fall off." With the 2nd one I think my encouragement might have done more harm than good. We were nearing the end and the "1 mile to go" was long gone. As I caught up to him I could tell he was miserable. "Just a half-mile to go!" He grunted, "Are you serious? I was hoping it was way less than that." He tried to trot along side of me for a minute and I tried to distract him with useless chit chat, but he was done. As his feet slowed to a walk I tried my hand at encouragement once again, "Just 0.4 miles to go. You've got it. Count 500 steps and you'll be done." I think he might have flipped me the bird as I shuffled away. I couldn't blame him, at several times during that run I had sworn off any future running. Asking myself why in the world I do this intentionally?

I came in and handed off to Kirt for the final time and was so glad to be done. Those tough runs are some of the most rewarding to finish. I guess like anything in life that you have to fight for? We headed to the end to wait for Kirt and the entire team ran across the finish line together. Any doubts about why I run were answered right there. Crossing the finish line is always sweet and doing it with a team is my favorite way. I'm a lucky girl to have a husband, kids and extended family that support me in this ridiculous addiction. There's talk around here of Cal running with us in a year or two. How fun would that be?