Walking a Ragnar Leg: My Hardest "Run" Ever

This weekend was a big experience in how the shoe feels on the other foot.  Three weeks ago, sharp pains in my calf dropped me from 45 mile weeks down to 2-5.  I've made some therapy and medical rounds and came out with a diagnosis of tendinitis.  Nothing serious, but the best medicine for it is, unfortunately, rest.

Last weekend, I tried a 3:1 interval, and didn't get past the first mile before my calf hobbled me into walking the last three.  However, I could walk with no pain or discomfort.

Enter this weekend, Bourbon Chase: A 200-mile relay race along the Kentucky Bourbon Trail

Team Pink Elephants on Parade

My original commitment to the team was 18.6 miles.  Third or fourth longest in our set of 12.  With much thought (and generous teammates willing to run more), I got myself down to 13 miles.  This is doable, I can walk a half marathon, especially across three sittings.

The new leg assignment put me in position #7, the first runner in the second van.

[Aside for those unfamiliar with how these relays work]

Ragnar relays are all about 200 miles broken up into 36 legs.  You (typically) have 12 runners that each take a set of 3 legs.  You run in order 1-12 for all of them.  You split your group into two vans of 6 people.  One van is always "active" and has a runner running at any given time.  Van 1 transports runners 1-6 while Van 2 drives ahead to the 6/7 exchange.  Once runner 6 finishes, Van 2 takes over as active van and runs legs 7-12 while Van 1 drives to the 12/13 exchange.  This repeats until all 36 legs are completed.

These locations where both vans meet are called "Major Exchanges".  These places have more parking and amenities (potentially food, bathrooms, showers, music, or other things).  This also means they are the loudest, most populated of all of the locations since teams will have both of their vans roll through.

[End Aside]

Race Start/Leg 1 (GPS) (speed spike was me trotting down a hill.  It was super painful to go downhill on blistered heels, so I risked it)

I would take over from runner #6 at Maker's Mark Distillery; a gorgeous location.  After the Van 1 started at Jim Beam, we drove there and had a relaxing 4 hours to kill.  We sampled some of the product, checked out the beautiful glass sculptures, and made fun of one of our female members who accidentally wandered in to the men's room.  All great fun.

We didn't have cell service at the Distillery, so we didn't really no how Van 1 was progressing, but they rumbled in a few minutes ahead of schedule and their runner wasn't far behind.  I got into position, able to watch the runners stream in in various states of fatigue.  There were a few fun footraces to get to the next runner and see the replacements bolt away.

Then #6 arrived.  Flying.  She easily looked like the strongest finish of any of the ones I had watched.  I stepped into place and yelled for her to finish hard.  Reached my hand out.  Took the baton.  And.  Walked.

Runner #6 Coming in hot!

 I'm sure it was all in my head and I'm just being self conscious.  But it felt like the crowd got so quiet.  Every look was surprise that this fit looking guy was "just walking".  Pity.  Amusement.  My stupid brain amplifying every reaction, making it just about me.  I nearly burst into tears.

Some lady blocking the picture of the transition.  Oh, and a die hard Clemson fan in the foreground.

But damnit, I floored it and power stepped my way out of there as fast as I could.

I was overtaken a total of 8 times.  Not a bad showing.  And even registered two "kills" myself (the team-relay term for passing someone).

Team vans were driving the same route to facilitate the exchange between runner 7/8.  Since this was the first leg for Van 2, most of them were cheering everyone going by.  Most just "woooo"ing as they passed.  One super-unappreciated, "It's ok, this hill is tough".  Well-meant, but totally not helpful at all to my situation.

By mile 3, I could tell I was doing a number on my heels.  My VFF shoes are wonderful for running, but I still heel strike when I walk (especially walking fast).  I bit my lip and gritted through it, but I knew I'd be paying for it later. (Spoiler alert: I have matching blisters about an inch in diameter.  Go me!)

By the last mile, I started experimenting a little getting a little more of a speed walker's hip turn in, but I'm sure I was doing it all wrong.  I put zero effort into looking into or practicing this advanced skill.

I was super proud of walking through that.  This was one of the most mentally demanding runs of my life.  It was a combination of having enough confidence that this was what was best for my body and being able to ignore all of the negative spin my head was putting on all external input.

Leg 2 (GPS)

For Leg 2, I experimented with running.  My heels were murdering my feet, so I needed to try something different.  So I ran.  And it felt amazing.  It was 1:30 AM and I was flying through the dark.  Zero calf problems.

Was passed a few times at the start when I tried out walking, but quickly avenged every single one of them.  Racked up some 13 kills.  The 3.5 mile run was the longest and fastest run I've had in weeks.

Leg 3 (GPS)

Leg 3 was a bit of an unknown.  It was a lot hillier than Leg 2, which would be harder on my calf.

Leg 3 Start

I get to the start line, and a guy in a banana suit runs off about 30 seconds in front of me.  Brain goes into competitive mode: I CANNOT let a plantain outpace me.

And then he did.

For two miles I chased that banana and even dropped the hammer a bit down one of the hills.  But my calf's protest started to grow, so I swallowed my pride and walked in in the last two miles.  I had to let the banana go.

One of these days, Banana-man.  One of these days...

Weird aside.  During my "run" part on this leg, I passed a guy who called up "Hey!  How much do you weigh?"  To which I told him (165 lbs).  And he responded "Huh.  Big guy!"

Seriously?  I've had comments about my height all my life.  But "big guy?"  I don't even know.

Conclusion

A few years ago, I took a "sick day" of sorts at our ATC Half training and ran with some of the 12-14 minute milers.  One of them was marveling at the fact I could run a half under 2 hours.  To which I responded with something along the lines of "running a 3 hour half comes with its own challenges, some easier and some harder; never sell yourself short on that."

My first leg was the embodiment of that.