I learned a lot this year at the Outward Bound Colorado Relay. Outward Bound's philosophy is about character building, in a roundabout way. Their mission statement is
To inspire character development and self-discovery in people of all ages and walks of life through challenge and adventure, and to impel them to achieve more than they ever thought possible, to show compassion for others and to actively engage in creating a better world.
Pretty cool, huh? With that mission statement in mind, I'll describe the lessons I learned during this year's relay.
Bright and early Thursday morning (5:30 am), Dave and I drove to the team captain's house and started our long journey to Colorado to begin the Colorado Relay. I was congested with snot and generally feeling not too great. This continued pretty much all weekend.
We got to Colorado, checked into our hotel, had our team dinner. At our team dinner, we learned that one of our team-mates didn't really know what she was getting into, One of our teammates was really new - even new to running. She got really upset when one of our alums started to describe the leg she was about to embark on (which he did last year). She didn't have a lot of confidence in her ability, hadn't looked at the leg maps, and her longest distance to date (she claimed) was about 3 miles.
Lesson 1: Be prepared. The rest of the team scrambled to re-arrange our leg order so that we could put her in a leg that she thought she could do. Early preparation might have saved everyone a lot of stress. And in the end, I think she got exactly what Outward Bound wanted her to get - I think she did more than she ever thought she could and I'm really proud of her.
We started the race at 5:40 in the morning with very high winds - 70 mph gusts or something. OK, I made that up - I'm not sure of the numbers, but our Runner 1 was blown off the road. Runners 2 and 3 were also blown around. At exchange 3, all the port-a-potties were blown over.
Runner 4 did a glorious, long climb up the mountain, and I took the baton from him at almost 10,000 ft in elevation. My 4.5 mile leg went up about 1000 more feet. I did not turn in a spectacular time, but I got it done.
Lesson 2: Hypoxia makes you happy: most of this race is at a higher elevation than where I live (5000 - 6000 ft). Though I do some occasional running up the mountain, I don't generally train at 10,000 ft. There's not a lot of oxygen up there, it's pretty hard. I'm glad to have done the training I have, because otherwise the breathlessness I experienced would have seriously freaked me out. I was feeling pretty crappy when I started my run, and I felt slightly less crappy by the time I finished.
Because the access on part of the course is very limited to vehicle traffic, runners 4 and 5 (that's me) were collected by the active van (2) and we got to stay in the active van for the first 15 legs.
Lesson 3: Advance Planning is Awesome: I remembered to move all my stuff to the second van, so I was ready with dry clothes. The second van we rented was bigger, so we had room for the two extra bodies - nobody was squished. Even though I had forgotten my food, all the runners in Van 2 had plenty to share.
Lesson 4: Nutrition really is the 4th discipline: I took all Hammer products - I had HEED and Recoverite and e-caps and gels, I consider these crucial to my survival. Recoverite, especially, kept me going. I took some e-caps and kept feeding myself small meals. Some of my team-mates didn't know about e-caps. I shared what I had with me, and they said their leg cramps were relieved immediately. Woo hoo!
Lesson 5 - Having a cold when you're doing a 24-30 hour running relay really sucks. As I sat in the van, trying to re-fuel, my stomach didn't really want to co-operate. I was never really hungry, I had to force-feed myself. I was fully aware that I had two more longer legs to do after my first one, and I was feeling progressively more dessicated by the minute. . My head cold meant that I was making a whole lot of mucus - and when your body makes mucus, it de-hydrates your tissues. No amount of water I drank made me feel "wet." My lips were drying out. My eyes were dry. I was really plugged up.
Lesson 6: The Colorado Relay course is really beautiful. Being in the active van for 15 legs was actually pretty cool because it meant that I got to see the first half of the entire course. The aspens were just starting to change color. It's really high up. It's just beautiful.
Lesson 7: Bring all your running clothes and lots of dry clothes for in-between, be prepared for anything: Even though the winds were high when we started, the sun came out at the top of the mountain. Later it got brutally cold. This year it didn't rain or snow, but we were ready for it all the same ('cos it did last year). Temperatures were all over the map, I used a lot of what I brought. I don't know if it was my illness, or the changing weather, or calorie deficit but I had a hard time staying at a stable temperature - I was hot, I was cold, I was...not in a good place.
After I got turned over to Van 1 again, we started over with runners 1 through 5. Runner 1 did a smokingly fast run across Georgia pass - 13 miles up and over the pass - she said people were stopping her all day and commenting on how amazing she was (which she is). Runners 2 through 4 continued down the mountain and back over to Frisco, CO where I picked up the baton and headed to Copper Mountain along a bike path beside the river.
I started at about 7 pm. Starting elevation was about 9100 ft - still higher than were I live - and ended about 800 ft higher over 6.8 miles. My stomach started cramping right away. I worried that I would have a 6.8 mile death march, but thought I'll just tough it out. I will. I can do this. My pace was not great. At 2 or 3 miles the headlamp came on, the sun set for good, the moon rose brightly. The view was outstanding. Still, I felt like crap.
Let's go back in time for a minute, shall we?...Last year, I did the very shortest legs of the Relay because I had IT Band problems that got acute in the weeks leading up to the race. I changed legs at the last minute and got through the course just fine. This year I have had an entire year with no lasting problems. I just did my first timed half-mary race. I've been running all summer. I got rid of my orthotics when I determined they weren't helping, and I've been in a pair of Asics my coach suggested. They've been working great.
I was running on this beautiful trail along the river in my 2nd pair of shoes - a pair of Sauconys that I was not convinced were absolutely right for me, but that were recommended by a good running store. I also ran the Pino trail last weekend - a very difficult trail run. I didn't think anything of these things at the time, but I realize now that I had been loading a gun.
Lesson 8: Never Ever try something new and/or risky on race day that you are not 100% sure will work. So, back in Colorado, that gun went off about 4 miles into my second leg, when my old ITB problem started up and would not stop. At all.
My ITB was getting progressively worse, but I picked up two other runners who were happy for company. I had told the van that I would be some time between 1hr and 1hr 20 for my leg. Until I met these other two, I was starting to worry I wouldn't even make my outside time. Luckily, these two ladies helped me pick up my pace to come in. On the down side, my persistence meant that I turned my leg into hamburger.
I limped to the finish and handed off the baton, and my team asked if I was OK. I said no, that my leg hurt and that it was not good. And then I started to cry. The combination of exhaustion, dehydration, illness, and my own disappointment with myself were emotionally overwhelming.
My team was great. "We'll get you through this" they said. "We'll take care of you" they said.
Lesson 9: Take really good care of yourself: I got back to the van. I put ice on my knee, I took some acetaminophen. I changed shoes immediately. We went to Vail and had real food (OK, so it was overpriced and too heavy, but it was hot). We camped out in a church basement - I rolled my leg on the foam roller and I took a nap. I stretched. I did everything I knew to do.
I tested the ITB out on some stairs (going down stairs is a sure way to tell if it is going to hurt or not) and it felt OK. So I said I want to try it, I really want to do this. More than anything, I wanted to finish this race, do the miles and go home feeling good.
We rolled away from Vail at 12:30 in the morning - I think by this time I'd had a hour and a half of sleep in 19 hours - and headed out to Exchange 20 where we started the last 10 legs. At about 4:20 in the morning I headed out onto a lonely stretch of dark highway to do a 6.5 mile run.
Lesson 10: Running in the dark at your own altitude is really awesome: After the ITB problem started up, I had been dreading this leg. All my legs up to this point had been wholly crappy, I felt awful. This leg started at about 6600 ft and went mostly at a slight downhill. For the first time in the relay I started to feel like I knew what I was doing - and for the first mile and a half, I felt really, really good....everywhere except my right knee. Stupid IT Band.
Lesson 11: It is really depressing when one part of you is broken and the rest of you feels really good. My euphoria was short lived. I had to stop running and and start walking. The van had agreed to check up on me shortly down the road - so they stopped at about mile 2-ish and asked how I was. I said I'm already walking, it's not going well. They said what do you want to do? I said, I'm going to keep running until somebody comes up with a plan.
Lesson 12: Read the Rules: I was told that to play by the rules, the next runner would have to run back up the course to where I was, complete my miles, and then go on to complete his miles. I knew he was tired, and it was too much to ask someone to run twice my miles. Because we needed to come up with a sensible plan, my team-mates did 3 of my 6.5 miles for me, and then I got out and did the last bit to my last exchange. I felt really, really low. I felt like I was being rescued, and I hate being rescued. I felt like I was cheating. I felt like I had put the team at risk of being disqualified, and I was mad at myself. Now that I'm back and I'm reading the rules myself, I see that we could have done it the way we did without being disqualified. The injury exchange rules are loose. We could have done it pretty much any way, and it would probably be OK. Plus, at the end of the day, it's a fund-raiser, not the Olympics.
Lesson 13: Having a team who looks out for each other is priceless: The team, by contrast, were more than happy to help me out. They were ready, energetic, and willing. They said you need help and we are here to help. They said, it would be different if we were in a podium position, but we're not -- and we're not even high on the list. We are here for fun. It's not worth it for you to injure yourself further.
Lesson 14: Success at the Colorado Relay is measured by your sense of humour. It is clear to me that having a sense of humour is a requirement in this race. With teams in the relay like the Full Moon Floozies, Twenty Peaks (an all women team with giant boobies on the roof of their vehicle), the Chicken Runners, team Road Rash ("the art of the impact tattoo"), the Slowskis, 9 Chicks and a Dick, 9 Virgins and a Ho, and (Iron Jenny's team) Puke and Rally, it's a requirement to not take yourself seriously at any point. You just can't take yourself too seriously and still have fun. If you're not laughing, you're crying. And frankly, after having achieved a whopping 3.5 hours of sleep, I'd rather be laughing.
We finished in 27:38 - a little over 20 minutes faster than last year's time.
Lesson 15: Take your time coming home - rest and recoup We stayed in Glenwood long enough to get clean(er) at Glenwood Hot Springs, and then headed straight back to Albuquerque. It was an additional 11 hours of driving before I got home. About halfway home I realized I'd been up for 36 hours with only about 4 hours of sleep. I still felt awful from my cold - it was a steady and unhappy misery. Nothing I did made me feel better - no drugs, no sugar, no food, nothing. I convinced myself, in my sleep deprived state, that I would feel this way forever so I might as well get used to it.
Lesson 16: Sleep. OMG. Sleep. I have a talent for being able to sleep anywhere - not everyone has this. The Relay favours those who can sleep easily, and it favours short people who can stand being cooped up in a vehicle for long periods of time. I slept when I could, and it wasn't great sleep, so I was still emotionally drained until I got home last night. This morning after I woke up after a full 10 hours, I felt like a new person.
Lesson 17: It really helps to be resourceful: We had some pretty resourceful people on our team who helped make it fun. The team captain had a large van which we used for this race. One team member contacted someone in Breckenridge, who comped a room for the team to use for a few hours (including a jacuzzi). One other team member knew the pastor of the church in Vail, who let us sleep in the basement for a couple of hours. All of these little things helped make the race more fun for us, and more willing to come back next year.
Lesson 18: A good driver is essential: I convinced my friend Dave to come along and be a driver for this adventure. He's not a runner but he's an outstanding rider. He's had experience crewing for riders at the Furnace Creek 508 and the RAAM, so he's kind of over-qualified for the Co Relay. I handed him the Relay Handbook (with driving instructions) and a map of Colorado, and told him it was crucial for him to stay well-carbed and rested, he would be making important decisions throughout the race. While we were in the back being silly, cutting up, or feeling sorry for ourselves, Dave drove like a pro and remained steady the entire trip on only about an hour of sleep. Apparently, he enjoys the occasional experiment with sleep deprivation. This is the kind of guy everyone should have on their team!
So, I'm actually thinking about forming a team of triathletes. I have unfinished business on that course, and I want to do it again. So far we have nothing - sign up is in October, and all I have is my two years of experience. I think I've convinced my Beloved that he would enjoy it, I know GeekGirl is probably in with both feet. Probably S. Baboo too. I can probably convince Dave to drive again.
I need a cool name, and I need a lot of planning...
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