Ragnar Race Report #2: The Year of the Steep and Heat.

The Cougars emerged from the den for another go at Ragnar Trail in an attempt to defend our large metal belt buckles from 2013. We were almost the same team, with one last minute swap out of one speedy sleek cat for another.

The race organizers made a few changes from last year. It is arguable which was the most significant or impact-ful on our experience. They changed the date, bringing it up by 5 weeks, so we got to run in the sweltering October heat during the hottest and driest summer/fall on record in awhile. They changed the names of all the trails, while keeping them essentially the same resulting in debates and mental calisthenics among the Cougars.....red is yellow, no red is red, yellow is green this year, it goes green, yellow, red...you know, like a traffic light and so on.... They did add an extra mile (more on that in a moment), and they went for budget composting commodes this year.

This year I was runner 3 so ran each leg a few hours earlier than last year. This meant my first run was at about 415 pm in the sweltering heat. But at least I got it out of the way early and could look forward to cooler trails for the remainder of the race. I contemplated jumping in the lake before I started but thoughts of chafing put an end to that idea. So I settled for an ice cube snuggled in my cougar bandana and a camelback full of icy water.

I started on Red which is Ragnar trail code for the.hardest.trail. It wasn't the longest at only 4.5 miles but they were nasty miles. Last year this trail was Green but they added an extra mile and did a color swaparoo. I was familiar with the first climb from last year and remembered it involved a lot of walking so started off in not too much of a hurry. At the top of said climb I turned right and entered the unknown terrain of the new mile. I was the first Cougar to do so and my race report was being anxiously awaited in the "village." Single track, shade, backside views of a lake....so far I was liking it and appreciated the opportunity to run in the day when I could actually enjoy the view. A sharp left and it was a steep drop down into trails clearly designed for mountain bikes, not runners. The legs took a pounding dropping in and then quick up then down then up then down again and again. Then another left, this time to begin going up and up and up and up. Words fail me on how to describe the experience of "running" up this section of the trail. First of all, there was no running involved. It was the kind of trail that brings hikers to their knees b/c it hurts just to walk up it. And you're not really walking. You're bent over, hands on knees b/c the only other option is knuckle-draggin' (or crawling and that would have looked really silly). I actually encountered two retchers on this section of trail and several people just plain bent over and miserable and not moving. The heat + incline was putting people over the edge. Back down in the village I heard later that the hill was a 20% grade. For reals. This section went on way too long. When it was over I struggled to get into any kind of running groove. I didn't even really enjoy the downhills, usually my favorite part, b/c I didn't trust my weak, still shaking and jello-like lower appendages to carry me safely downhill. And did I mention the heat? I know most people really don't like running in hot weather but I think I dislike it even more than most. Or at least I complain about it more.

After the horrid hill section Red rejoined last year's trail. The crazy thing about this was that although I ran this trail last year in the middle of the night while it was raining, I remembered all of it. All the turns, ups, downs, bushes, really everything. Psychologically I think that sorta saved me and I really did need saving at that point. I had stopped looking at my GPS b/c I really didn't want to be reminded of how slow I was running. I was happy to reach another steep climb with a scramble at the top b/c I remembered it from last year so I knew that it was, a) much shorter than what I had already climbed and, b) getting me closer to the finish line. I passed one woman whose language cannot be repeated on this family blog but let's just say she was a bit unhappy about what she'd signed up for. I topped out on a spine that I'd run in the dark last year and tried to briefly enjoy the view this time. And then it was down, down, down back to the final quarter mile where all 3 trails merged into the finishing shoot. Runners go up a short but very steep hill and then across a timing platform where a beep goes off and the team names then shows up on a TV screen at the start/finish so the teammate running next can go into the transition tent to meet the incoming runner, knowing they are now a 1/4 mile out. Having done this last year I knew that my teammates would be cheering excitedly as soon as THE COUGARS popped up on that screen and then would be running to the fence for some good ol' hand-slapping as I ran by. This buoyed me to keep going and to not throw up despite the face that my stomach had been making that suggestion the entire run. And then it was over and I asked my teammates if they wanted the bad news about the new mile.

The nighttime runners made a liar of me, coming back from their runs ecstatic saying Red was "hard but awesome!" That is, until Laurel and Brandi had the privilege in the morning heat and their race reports sounded a lot like me. Ah, validation. Everyone needs it. And nighttime running has a way of sprouting wings. Honestly, I kinda wish I could do all my runs at midnight. The effect is amazing. If you're still with me....read on.

I didn't bother to try to sleep b/tw Red and Yellow, although I should have. I felt sleepy and a bit discouraged after my first run. I was honestly a bit worried that if I did sleep, I really wouldn't be able to get up for that 11:30 pm start time. Instead I ate some cold pasta and stale buns from the mess area, hung out with my teammates sending out and bringing home our runners every 45 minutes to an hour or so. And avoiding those composting toilets as much as possible. You might remember last year's composting toilets were a highlight of the Ragnar Trail experience. They had 24 hr attendants, were quickly replenished of supplies or cleaned when they needed it, and graced by candlelight at nighttime. This year we had the Walmart of composting toilets and it turned out that toilet paper was one of the smartest things I packed, next to my running shoes. They were set up in their own little "village" and all race long runners could be seen dashing from door to door trying to find one that was useable before someone else got there first. Useable = toilet paper, hand sanitizer and not overflowing. Actual sawdust or candles were not even on the radar this year.

So 11 pm rolled around and it was time to line up for run #2, on Yellow. I cost us a little time here because I'd dashed off to the horrible toilets for one last second visit when Lihini, our #2 runner, arrived in transition. I didn't even have time to think as I tightened my headlamp and pulled on our team timing belt and headed off across the beach to start my leg. Last year Yellow was Red and was my absolute favorite loop, mainly b/c I ran it in the early morning when I could see and it had amazing flowing downhill. The first thing I noticed as I ran was that it was 20 degrees cooler than my loop on Red and man did that feel good. It took a little bit to adjust to running in the dark and not knowing exactly where I was putting my feet. Then I started climbing and to my amazement I felt great, I kept going, I passed people. This was going to be a spectacular run. I ran all the way up the double track until I hit a sidewinding goat trail that I remembered from last year. I did not run all of those hills last year so I got my first mental boost of many to come.

I power hiked the goat trail and my headlamp zoomed in on a gigantic black beetle. Better him than a scorpion or a rattle snake or a cougar. This sent a little shiver down my spine and I had to fight thoughts of cougars for a short little while before I was zooming again. Yellow turned into mostly single track after this point with plenty of Danger Downhill signs and lots of airy sections on each side of the trail. Lots of runners were tentatively making their way down these sections but I was charging. Not as fast as last year, the darkness did slow me down a bit, but still enough to get that incredible feeling of floating in the dark night air as I zoomed by. I don't know if I was really zooming but I felt like it and that is all that matters. I didn't want this section to end. I just wanted to keep running and keep feeling so phenomenal. I didn't look at my GPS at all b/c I didn't really care what my pace was or how far it was to the finish and I actually kinda couldn't, you know, for safety. It is not advisable to look at one's watch when running fast down technical single track in the dark.

Yellow dumped me out from my trails of euphoria onto the road for a few short moments before sending me back up another big climb. This was a hike/run and as soon as it leveled off at the top I was off again for the downhill to the finish and that last quarter mile. I did not want that run to end. I wanted to hoot like I was on a mountain bike and truly, honestly, really would have gone right through transition and kept going if someone had told me I could run Yellow again. But that isn't how the race works so I had to hand off the timing belt and go meet my teammates. I honestly felt like I was buzzing. Who needs drugs when you can run Yellow by headlamp. What is better than that? Other than riding Yellow by headlamp, I imagine.

So now it was time to sleep. Hah. I think I have the adrenaline rush from my run as well as the caffeinated Cliff Blocks I took before it to thank for lying awake in my tent for 3 hours. That and my full bladder which forced unwanted trips to Toilet Village. Julia was my tent mate and she ran around 2 am. She was back in the tent with me and confirmed that I did sleep from 415-430 am which I suspected. Then I was up to wait for my next leg, which ended up starting around 630 am.

My last leg was Green, last year's Yellow. I did not like this loop. It was 6 miles long, relatively flat but with deep sand, except for a big, long roadie climb in the middle, and several climbs in the last mile. There was no single track. It was all double track and dirt road. For some reason around 5 am I went into GI meltdown. This meant that I almost moved into Toilet Village during Toilet Village's darkest hours. Whoever was manning this atrocity had clearly been disgusted into giving up on his job by 5 am and I can't say I blame him. This ordeal distracted me from any real mental planning for the final Green loop. I had a vague and lofty ambition to break 1 hour. Last year only 1 of our 8 teammates had done so and this year a few already had, showing the Cougars were truly on form. My time last year was somewhere around 67 or 68 minutes and I remember feeling pretty rough. So in the back of my mind I shelved that goal. I tried to run comfortably and reminded myself that I wanted to run a strong second half, which fits my running style more than going out strong from the gate. I was passing people for awhile and feeling like I was working hard. The sun was rising and it was cool but wouldn't be for long. I kept looking at my GPS and telling myself I was going too damn slow. But then I'd listen to my breathing and realized that I was running about as well as I could at that moment w/o sacrificing the negative split that would mean I'd had a good run. So I ran by feel and tried to hang tough. The woman ahead of me was running about the same pace as me and eventually a bit faster. I realized I was not going to catch her but I wanted to keep her in my sights. I threw out an invisible rope and kept my pace and cadence up a little more than I otherwise would have I think.

At the top of the big climb I realized that my average pace was just under a 10 minute mile at that point which meant that breaking 1 hour was attainable, particularly if I ran the second half faster and didn't fall apart (which I've been known to do). So I committed to that goal. This was a breakthrough run for me. I can put my head down and give it all when I ride my bike. I have a more complicated relationship with running and am more susceptible to negative self-talk and choosing less physical suffering over attaining a running goal, particularly on race day. For some reason the strong chief who sits atop my shoulders in a bike race, goes on vacation when she sees running shoes. I reflected on the awesomeness of my Yellow run and on how effortless and light I felt at the finish line. I wanted to dump all of that excess energy that I didn't expend on Yellow to be left on this Green trail. I pushed. I dug deep and the weird thing was I didn't really suffer. I just ran hard and it felt good. For probably the first time ever. I managed to find that zone b/tw running too slowly and exploding in a cloud of lactic acid misery. The last climb hurt but I stayed mentally tough. I wanted to break that hour much more than I should have wanted to for something that didn't really matter at all. But whatever, it was what it was and hopefully I can call on this new mental running strength some other time when I might need it for an important goal.

I was glad to see the finish line but I didn't throw up. I was in control. My watch said 58:33. Nice. Solidly whipped my own butt from last year, although I did have the benefit of daylight this time around. 14.5 miles down and time to go eat and rest and enjoy the final few hours as my teammates put in their last loops. We don't know yet if we won our division again b/c it takes the Ragnar folks a few days to figure it all out. I guess its complicated to run a race involving hundreds of teams of runners. Either way it was an epic weekend: 14.5 miles, 1500 feet of climbing and 15 minutes of sleep = exhausted, happy and bring on the pumpkin pie.