American Odyssey Redux - Part II - Everyone Needs Beef Jerky

“My car feels like an empty mansion when I drive it alone now,” my friend e-mailed me. “Needs 4 or 5 people and a bunch of bags of random food.”

How true it is.

There’s a scene in Michael Crichton’s book Travels when he encounters a family who’d just come down from Kilimanjaro, the same hike he’d planned to make the next day.  "Why don't you ask them about it?" his girlfriend says.

So he does.  As the conversation struggles forward he notes, "As they spoke, the dull look never left their eyes.  I couldn't tell if they were tired, or disappointed, or if something odd had happened that they weren't talking about...I was disturbed by the flat intonation, the inward manner....Finally the wife said, 'It was good. It was a good climb.'"

That’s how Mrs. Onthebusrunning and I felt at our local Mexican restaurant just hours after ending our 200ish mile journey from Gettysburg to D.C. So many combating appetites battling: sleep, thirst, hunger, hygiene.

Tired, bearded, happy to be done.

Of course, it didn’t start this way.

Full of life and full of real food, we huddled around the crowded starting line in the parking lot of the Wyndham Gettysburg. Our team shivered with the scores of other runners as the wind blew ominous clouds overhead, the kind that had you not known any better, you’d swear it was fall.

We cheered the countdown on in our olive green shirts with the shadowy figure of our inspiration stenciled on the front: The Most Interesting Man in the World for the Most Interesting Team in the World.

The vans were stacked thanks to a generous donation from MOM’s grocery store and everyone’s favorite running Jamaican, Rohan. We had enough apples, oranges and bananas to feed a small country let alone a van of hungry runners.

The seconds ticked down and the race director with a microphone bellowed, "Goooooo!"  And the first steps of our journey began.  Here's what happened along the way:

Rohan makes us the Most Interesting Team

- Van 2 had six hours to kill before they ran so they scoured Gettysburg for beards to look like The Most Interesting Man in the World...what they got were Abraham Lincoln beards.

- The Rohan Show - Rohan getting on top of the car.  Rohan getting yelled at for being on top of the car.  Rohan running away from the van. Rohan interviewing with the local press. Rohan riding an aluminum horse. Rohan crowing out the window about "Alien sex." Rohan tearing it up on the course!

- Tagging other vans with our Most Interesting Man in the World quotes...even though the grammar was questionable.

- Ebo taking his shirt off.

- Fantasizing about beef jerky.  Eating beef jerky at 6:00 in the morning.  Eating beef jerky all the time.

Ride it...my pony!

- Rachel getting hollered at as she passed through her first of back-to-back night legs.  BA!

- Rachel realizing that she and coconut water do not mix.

- Karen gutting out her last leg in the dawn on the C&O canal after falling twice before reaching the half way point.

- Finding out that @Sarahfindingfit ran down Bloody Lane with a burned out headlamp

- Rachel and Rohan walking into a coffee shop by the MARC train station in Maryland and getting asked if they were, "Part of the doins' down at the station."

- When given the choice between salami sandwiches and peanut butter, salami is the first to go.

Sound asleep at the finish.

- Ebo ran 30 miles collectively instead of 20; 26 of them without a shirt.

- It's easy to fall asleep in the sun along the D.C. waterfront after two beers, two hot dogs, a polish sausage, a chicken breast, and one hour of sleep in the last 33.

Trying to explain these "fun" experiences to non-runners at work, it usually gets met with a blank stare.  And when I know I've lost them, I stop.

“How was it?” I get asked.

"It was good.  It was a good run."

American Odyssey Relay Redux - Part I - The Night Run

 "They" say the second leg of a relay is your best one.  The first is tolerable, and the third is pure guts.  It was with this in mind that I rolled from foot-to-foot at around midnight and bounced on my toes in short-shorts and a tank top trying to stay warm, trying to will Mrs. Onthebusrunning over the crest of the final hill to the quiet parking lot that marked exchange point 16.  The time ticked close to midnight.

Trying (unsuccessfully) to sleep 

I'd tried in vein to get a powernap in after our first exchange.  But even though I felt exhausted, there's something about trying to will your body to sleep at 5:30 p.m. where it just doesn't want to cooperate.  The problem is of course compounded by train whistles, the tapping of rain on your sleeping bag, and the loudest flagpole the world has ever seen (or heard).  I checked my Facebook page and saw I had a message from a friend that said, "Hope the race went well."  I snorted.  I posted back from inside my sleeping bag, "We still have 23 hours to go...but thanks!"

As the sky darkened behind ominous clouds and night settled, the temperature may have dropped but the energy in our van was palpable.  Whatever rest we'd managed kicked in and it was time to take on the night.

And so, while I fidgeted at the handoff, I ran through the turns in my head in case the signs had disappeared.  I worried that the 6:20 pace I'd surprised myself with during the first leg might come back to haunt me here...I was still less than 10 days past running Boston.

Ready to own the night!

"This is her, I think," Paul said. 

"Team 82!" someone called out.

"Time to go," I said to no one in particular.  "Nice job, babe!" She slapped the bracelet on my wrist and I took off, leaving what seemed like the whole of civilization behind me.

Running at night makes you feel like you're flying.  I kept my handlamp trained on the road ahead of me and picked my way into the steady 1.75 mi incline I knew waited for me.  There was no shoulder on the road and every 30 seconds or so, another van would zoom by, forcing me into a neighbor's lawn.  Once they past, the night was still except for the steady plodding of my footstrikes. 

I had flashbacks to this time during the Ragnar Relay from September.  The fuse caught and I burned up the dark roads.  I carried that memory with me as I ate those hills up and kept repeating, "Strong legs, strong legs, strong legs" over and over in my head.  I wondered if I'd catch anyone on this 5.7 mi leg, but to this point, I was alone.  Two hundred meters ahead, I could see the flashing blue light marking the end of the uphills and my first left turn. 

I took a swig of water then hung a left.  I traded tall, tree-lined streets for the black Pennsylvania fields unrolling in front of me.  I started to pull back to save myself for that third leg, then decided, "Screw it.  I feel good.  Let's go."  My stride opened up, big ground eaters that sent me barreling down hills like a madman.  I felt invincible.

Off in the distance two red lights blinked.  I was confused at first because I knew there were no right turns on this loop.  Then it hit me that they were fellow runners.  I fought the urge to speed up and go after them, instead knowing that in time, they'd come back to me.

"Nice job," I offered, going by the first.  The second held up a hand of acknowledgement.

The last left turn emerged and dropped me onto the highway.  I stared up at the steep climbs that waited for me and popped a power gel for good measure.  "It's not Heartbreak," I told myself and continued pushing forward.  The searing came to my quads just as I hit the final hill and saw the bright lights of the Boonsboro high school football field.  Waved on by volunteers I threw down my finishing kick and added a couple more "kills" to my night's tally.  Paul trotted next to me to the exchange and I slapped the bracelet on him.  My work for the night was done.  Paul would loop back to the same finish area before handing off to Rohan to complete Van 1's night duty.  We secretly urged them on so that we could get to the next exchange as quickly as possible and get some much needed sleep.  Even a couple hours would do.

Ninety minutes later, I found myself unrolling a sleeping bag somewhere around 1:30 a.m. in the middle of a field in West Virginia.  I didn't care where it was or what I was sleeping on.  I pulled the cover over my head and as closed my eyes, I smiled, thinking, "they" were right.

The Next "Odyssey"

"I will endure it, keeping a stubborn spirit inside me, for already I have suffered much and done much hard work on the waves and in the fighting. So let this adventure follow." -- Odysseus


"First and foremost," I began, "There is an open farting policy in Van 1."  There were looks of relief, looks of horror and looks of confusion.  "Come on people, someone could die if we try to hold that in."

Let me back up.


Surely you know that if there is anything that is going to pull one out of the Boston Marathon hang over, it must be a race of epic proportions.  Still...


Even in November when the idea was first presented to me, I had my doubts.  A 200 mile relay just 12 days after running Boston?  At first I declined.  I said I'd be happy to support the team and be a driver.  But the memories of doing the Ragnar Relay came to the surface, not all at once, but piece by piece.  


Maybe it was the camaraderie with my team and vanmates.  Could have been the strange discussions at 6:00 in the morning, getting woken up by elementary school girls thinking we were a gang of homeless man sleeping on their soccer field, then there were the sloppy joes instead of sleep at a church in the middle of nowhere, Maryland.


So it wasn't just one thing, rather the collective memories and accomplishments that I, that we, endured over 32 hours of running from Cumberland, MD to Washington, D.C.  Of course the answer became a resounding "yes!"


For Ragnar, we were team "Got the Runs."  I've teamed up with my fabulous co-captain Sarah Finding Fit from that team to bring together "The Most Interesting Team in the World."   


Like running itself, the idea of the relay draws mixed reactions from people.  These are generally the same people who criticize the general concept of paying money to sign up for a race.  "So, let me get this straight," they'll start.  "You're going to pay to run?"


"Well, no, but, I guess yes, yes I'm going to pay but you get this t-shirt and other people are with you, and to cross the finish line, it's just well, there's nothing like it."  


Similarly, "So, let me get this straight...you're going to drive two hours to Gettysburg...then run back?  WHY!?"


*sigh*


For many reasons then, not just one, tomorrow, I'll pile into a van with four of my closest friends.  We'll follow another van with six others and we'll turn around and we'll run all the way back home.  From Gettysburg to D.C., we'll run.  We won't sleep.  Most won't shower.  We'll gorge ourselves on peanut butter sandwiches.  Beef jerky will be as good as sex!  We'll probably get cranky.  We'll question why we're doing it.  We'll insist that we finish. We'll fart! And in the end, we'll all cross the line together.


Come along our Odyssey starting Friday morning at 11:15 a.m. by following us on Twitter:
Van 1: @onthebusrunning  
Van 2: @sarahfindingfit


Keep running my friends.

'For if I wait out the uncomfortable night by the river, I fear that the female dew and the evil frost together will be too much for my damaged strength, I am so exhausted and in the morning a chilly wind will blow from the river; but if I go up the slope and into the shadowy forest, and lie down to sleep among the dense bushes, even if the chill and weariness let me be, and a sweet sleep comes upon me, I fear I may become spoil and prey to the wild animals.’ --Odysseus

Relay Epidemic

Going in, we knew it was going to be dangerous. The potential for signing up was a hazard. In truth, I think before the credits even started rolling, our mind had been made up, yet no one said anything.

After sitting through some awkward interviews, the lights dimmed and the soft footfalls of a runner piped in. A slight, middle-aged woman comes into view, slogging through some miles in the middle of the night. A narrow shaft of light guides her. She looks disheveled and strained. Out of the darkness, another figure comes upon her and overtakes her in a flash. Laughter went up and you could see the vigorous nodding of approving heads silhouetted against the screen. We could relate.

On Tuesday night, five of us got together, venturing out into the oncoming snow storm, to see the one-night event, Hood to Coast.

We met up beforehand for dinner and drinks, and, pulling off our coats, each revealed our “Got the Runs?” team shirts from the Ragnar Relay.

Though Ragnar was nearly four months in the rearview, it was an event that really solidified our group of running friends. I guess spending 32 hours in a van with five other sweaty, smelly people can do that for you…or, I suppose, the complete opposite if you've chosen poorly.

Aside from barefoot running and minimalist shoes, covering vast distances in two vans and on foot with 11 fellow runners seems to be the fad du jour in the running community. Like the marathon, everyone wants in…and everyone can be. From elite runners looking to crush the field, to mid-packer teams, to teams who are there simply to cover the distance and look good (or funny) doing it, these relay series have them all.

Hood to Coast followed four such teams 197 miles, from Mt. Hood to the Oregon coast. It was exceptional. The movie did an incredible job capturing the feeling that you’re part of something larger than yourself. I can remember running Ragnar and not only forging bonds with my fellow vanmates but with the other teams around us that we happened to keep bumping into at the exchange points. Knowing that there were others out there experiencing this odyssey. And to that point, the movie somehow felt the same. Here were a 100 or so people sitting in a theatre in Ballston, VA, watching the same movie as others gathered around the country for the same reason. It’s what made having this movie a one night event so brilliant. There was even a camaraderie between viewers.

As many loop members can (and have attested to), these relays leave you euphoric for days, even weeks, after you’ve crossed the finishline. Once the original delirium subsides from not sleeping for however many ours and the physical and emotional exhaustion melts away, you realize that you actually have to get back to real life. A little bit of that post-race hangover creeps in, at least for me, and you simply can’t wait to do it again.

It’s why when a friend asked if my wife and I wanted to do American Odyssey, we hardly hesitated to accept. And our only hesitation was mine because I’d be running Boston just two weeks prior. “Eh, I can just pick up one of the shorter legs,” I reasoned.

Where else can you find that it’s acceptable to eat a salami sandwich at 7:00 in the morning and not think twice about it, or wake up on a soccer field and not remember how you got there. While there are moments of snippiness, when you find yourselves somewhere on the back roads, maybe lost, maybe fighting sleep in the middle of the night, there are moments where you feel the team gelling: prepping supplies for the runner who just finished and getting food prepared for the one who’s about to take off, sharing "sticks" and becoming more familiar with your teammate, um, bodily functions than perhaps you ever thought you'd be….

Once the teams crossed the finish line and the lights came back on, we walked out together and formed a small circle before going our separate ways for the night.

“So?”
“So.”
“Hood to Coast, 2012?” Five nods.
“How could we not?”

Indeed. How could we not?