Coming Full Circle: Why I Want to do Another Ragnar

In April 2010, I experienced what I thought, at the time, was the worst heartbreak I would ever experience. My first "serious" relationship since high school had disintegrated in what seemed like the blink of an eye. I was lost and confused and really didn't understand how it had happened. One moment things were fine, the next I was hiding in the copy room at work because she had come to my building for training. 

Over the next few months, I would experience my first end of relationship spiral. There were days I would be so depressed I could barely eat and nights when I found myself at a bar trying to forget. I made a lot of mistakes during that time. I hadn't quite developed the type of coping skills I needed to deal with it because it was all new to me. Yes, at 26 years old I had never experienced the heartbreak of being dumped in my life. To put it simply: it sucked!

Sometime over the course of that summer, I received an IM from a woman who I had been in a training class with months before. In the training we had learned that we both loved to run and a friendship had developed around our mutual interest. She asked if I wanted to join the Ragnar Relay team she was on for the Las Vegas event. At the time, I knew nothing about Ragnar, but I was in a mood where I knew I wanted to try something new so I said yes. It was a choice I will never regret. 

I started doing my research and found out that Ragnar is a relay where teams of 12 (or 6) alternate legs to cover an area of about 200 miles over the course of 2 days. I had been given the 12th spot (aka anchor legs) for the team. My legs were listed as moderate, difficult, moderate. Even though I was in fairly good shape at the time, I considered myself a moderate, at best, runner. Seeing that one of my legs was a 7.1 mile, 1000 foot incline on a desert trail, I was a little terrified.  

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Having a Ragnar to get ready for diverted my attention from the non-healthy ways of coping. I was able to focus on the goal of getting prepared while channeling my stress and frustration in a positive way. My nightly runs replaced the nights at the bar and I had to eat to keep myself fueled for them. Add to that there were the meetings with the team and talking with the friend who invited me to further keep my mind off of negative things. 

As for the actual relay, the experience was amazing! Things started out by meeting the two team members who had flown in from Montana and immediately giving one of them the nickname "T-Had" while we were painting the race vans. There were so many memorable moments:

• joking in the van.
• trying to sleep at some outdoor pavilion that I don't remember the name of.
• trying to sleep in the middle of the desert.
• not getting more than 20 minutes of sleep the whole time. 
• picking cactus spikes off of one of the other team member's butt before realizing how awkward it was and having a female do it instead.
• laying out under the stars waiting for runners to finish their legs.
• the crazy costumes (more men in tutus than most Halloween parties)
• the hilarious van decorations (use of a blowup doll is pretty much guaranteed)
• and of course, the running.

Out of all of these great moments, one stands out more than any: The "difficult" leg. My first leg was moderate. It was a little under 5 miles with only a little bit of uphill. I was still feeling really good after. Things were off to a pretty decent start. As the 2nd leg started to roll around, sleep deprivation was beginning to kick in and it was getting pretty chilly. I started the leg around 2:00 AM. I missed the handoff from the person who was before me by a few minutes. I cannot remember if it was because I was going to the bathroom or changing into warmer clothes. It was an auspicious start to say the least.

Leg 24 started easy and that lasted for about 1/2 a mile, when we veered off the fairly well maintained trail and onto a dried creek bed. This is where the majority of the leg would take place, in the middle of the desert, on a dried creek bed, ridiculously early in the morning. For the first couple miles I have to admit I was a little nervous. I could hear the coyotes howling off in the distance. The moon didn't light the path very well and my headlamp would only cover the few feet in front of me. Basically, outside of a 5' x 5' area, I had no clue what was going on around me.

Around mile 3, the fear started to fade away. I distinctly remember the song Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons coming on over my iPod and for some reason it struck a cord with me. I really have never taken the time to analyze the song. However, in that moment, I took it as: "You've been weak, but you are as tough as lion and nothing life throws at you can take you down." My pace quickened.

Despite speeding up my pace, a crowd of runners was starting to form behind me. I tried to move off to the side but no one wanted to pass. I guess no one else wanted to lead the way on the dark dangerous path. I was happy to be leader of the pack. When it comes to running I doubt I'll ever get that opportunity again. I was leading a pack of runners, under a full moon, through an empty desert with nothing but the sounds of howling coyotes off in the distance. How cool is that?!

As we wound our way to the end of the creek bed portion, I felt a sense of pride that I was able to lead without fear of what was ahead (metaphor intended). The second we got out of the creek bed, every person behind me passed and I was more than happy to let them. I took a moment to walk for the first and only time during any leg. Sure, I was tired. But for the most part I just wanted to take a moment to reflect on what an amazing experience it had been. I'm not ashamed to admit that I fought back a few tears, unsuccessfully of course, as I thought about everything that had taken place since April. In that moment, though, I knew everything would be alright.

Here we are in 2016, and I've just gone through another devastating breakup. This time around I think I'm doing a much better job of not going into a full-blown spiral, but it is still tough. That's why a few days ago, when I saw a post on my Facebook feed about a friend who doing Vegas this year. I immediately got on the page and posted that I was looking for a team. I was so excited at just the thought of doing it again, that I started responding when someone asked me to join their team. Sadly, I had been a little overzealous completely forgetting that I had sprained my ankle only about 10 days before. With the event only a little over 2 months away and a possible 8 week recovery time, the math didn't quite add up. I had to decline.

Even though I declined that team, I'll admit that I'm secretly hoping for a miracle that heals this ankle quick so I can start training. Then if only I can get a second miracle and a team still needs an extra runner, maybe things can still pan out. Even if they don't, I've got my heart set on doing Ragnar Del Sol in March. Events like Ragnar are not about the competition, unless you are on one of the few teams that is shooting to win it all. It is a community experience like no other. Whatever you have going on in the real world gets to fade away completely for two days. For me, spending two sleepless days cramped in a van with people I barely knew was the best thing that could have happened.