Ruminations...

This One Time at Ragnar…

We’ve been punished. We’ve pushed ourselves. We’ve persevered. Here are one runner’s random reflections on her fabulous (30th birthday) Ragnar weekend…

Old McDonald Had a Farm…

Animals seen on the road: cattle (no kidding!); goats; deer (alive and dead); chickens and roosters; dogs; coyotes; armadillos (alive and dead); skunk (dead); myriad crazy running friends, with some decked out in dresses, tutus, sashes, and all manner of regalia.

Relationships…

I’ve developed a love/hate relationship with running hills and the ‘one mile to go’ marker signs. I love running down the hills, and hate—no, loathe intensely—running up the hills. In fact, I am convinced that I could climb Everest and K2 with no oxygen after this weekend. As for those pesky ‘one mile to go’ signs… well, the last mile was the LONGEST mile of the whole run. There were 2 times when I loved seeing those signs… during Leg 18 when I was almost done with my ‘very hard aka diabolical’ run (confession: I actually hugged this sign) and Leg 36 when we were almost done with the event. Otherwise, they just gave false hope. Jerks.

Tutu much…

I learned several things over the course of the weekend. One of the best lessons was the celebration of motherhood. Many, if not all, of the all female teams were composed of mommas. Hot mommas, I might add. What a wonderful way to celebrate a commitment to be in shape, inspire other mothers, and come together to encourage other moms. (And as an added bonus, I am pretty sure those dads at home were cheering us on to come home. I know my husband learned to appreciate his ‘stay at home’ wife a little bit more!) There really is no better calling in the world as that of a mother. It just took 180ish miles to be a bit more reflective on that.

Teamwork is essential. Throughout the race it was common to hear in the van, “I could not have done it without you.” Or, “Thanks for cheering me up that blasted hill.” Or, “Does anyone think that leg was easy? What moron decided that?” The team component of this race made it incredibly worth it. I know that my team support helped me through those long, slow, painful inclines. They helped me stay awake during the night, mainly because of all the laughter. They also helped me realize the importance of being united for a cause and sticking to a decision. We decided, albeit crazily, to run from San Antonio to Austin. And that is just what my TEAM did.

What’s in a name?

Easy. Moderate. Hard. Very Hard. Huh!?! Those aren’t ways to categorize the runs. Ragnar, I have a few suggestions for next year. How about “You’ve got to be kidding me,” “It’s less than 4 miles, you’ll somehow survive,” “This will help with your mountain climbing training. Don’t worry, you don’t need to see the top of the hill,” and “Sorry, you drew the wrong straw. See you at the exchange, sucker.” I think those are a bit more reflective of the actual running legs. Give it some thought.

Running From The Kids. That is our team name. Between the 11 of us, we have 31 beautiful, healthy, and wonderful children. They are the reason we run. For peace and quiet. To get perspective. To show them we can do it. To allow them to miss us and appreciate us. And to inspire them to do the same—whether it be a great relay run or learning to hit a curve ball or memorizing a hard piece on the piano or developing a talent in the arts or aspiring and achieving a goal. We were examples to them. The appeal, aside from the actual run and bragging rights distance, was to get a little time away from the housework, the errands, the carpooling, and to do something entirely for ourselves. This is a rarity. A treasure. What I learned, and I could perhaps speak for the team on this one, was that I started by running from the kids and decided I was really running for my kids. It’s just a little preposition change, yet poignant. They needed to see me accomplish a feat other than the daily routine and keeping our schedules coordinated. It started as ALL about me and getting the heck away… and ended with me wanting to be back with them…with a medal around my neck.

Lessons learned…

Pack lightly. While we all had overly stylish purses, we didn’t need to bring the biggest in our closets. Yet, we were oh so stylish at the country gas stations getting our smart waters!

Divide and conquer. Rather than individually bringing wipes, bug spray, bandaids, etc. we should divvy out the list and minimize on the paraphernalia.

Be organized. Thankfully our captain is the master in planning for just about every scenario. (Perhaps she is a ghost author in the ‘worst case scenario’ book series?) We were pretty much ready for any contingency. Thanks Erin!

Get rest. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Just thought I’d throw that one in there. Not sure how to make it happen…

Eat, don’t binge. Eating was one of the toughest aspects. We liked munching on bagels, bananas, apples, string cheese, and wheat thins. But I won’t lie that we also consumed copious amounts of chocolate, licorice, coconut ‘Ragnar’ cake, and lots of trail mix.

Stay positive. It was hard to be negative with this team. You just weren’t allowed to be. Our attitude permeated everything. Way to go girls!

There is a reason it is called Hill Country…

I really wasn’t prepared for how hilly and hard those hills are. At the start, I was cursing those darn hills. At the end, when I could feel my legs again, I was thrilled to have mastered that feat. Whoo hoo! I think I’ll take a little more caution next year when choosing my legs. And perhaps I won’t have to do 4 of them!?! How cool are we that we finished the race with 10 runners, rather than 12? Again, go us!

And finally, does this medal make my ego look big?

I find myself wanting to shout from the rooftops that we conquered Ragnar. Did we win with the best time? No. Did we win our category? No, but came in a not too shabby second. Did we finish? You betcha, and in style! I think that for the next week I’ll need to wear some kind of Ragnar momento (I still have my bib, maybe that’ll be my Halloween costume?). I am so proud. Proud of myself, proud of my team, proud of my husband and kids for surviving. I really did it. We really did it. I am not sure that Ragnar will need to do any additional advertising for next year. They now have 10 devout runners to speak of what a wonderful, hard, intense, painful, cathartic, and blissful journey it is. I have always thought that when athletes cry at the end of some feat it is because of exhaustion riddled with pain. Oh no my friends. It is sheer joy and probably the purest expression of release. I know, because I found myself emotional at the end.

And yes, I am wearing my medal around the house today as I do my chores and clean up after the kids and the husband. I think it makes me look just short of perfect.

I am ready to sign up for next year.