Ragnar Tennesee

Running the Ragnar Tennessee was the focus of my 90 day training. When I started the program, I wasn't sure I could do it. I thought that, if I did manage to run it, I would never run another relay. When Tauni asked me to run Vegas, my first reaction was that I didn't want to do it for a number of reasons: wasn't thrilled about the course; wasn't sure how the family team concept would work; didn't know how well my knee would hold up; feared that if I did hurt myself I wouldn't be able to do Tennessee and accomplish my goal. After a day of thinking it over and testing myself with a couple City Creek runs, I was excited to run and, as I have written earlier, had a great experience. So I in the days leading up to Tennessee I didn't experience quite the climax I had planned. But by the time I got on the plane for Atlanta I was fully engaged for the adventure, excited about seeing places I had never been and running with a great group of people on my team

Here are a few impressions:

The Start. The race starts at Collidge Park on the Tennessee River in the heart of Chattanooga. Chattanooga, by the way, is a beautiful city that in recent years has reinvented itself as an art and outdoor reaction center. Our team, Ragnar Athletic Supporters for Healthways, had an 11AM start time. It was a cool, overcast day, which did nothing to dampen the spirits of the runners. Dan announced the start wearing a florescent green wig with an energy level that bordered on manic. He led runners in the wave, passed out candy to the loudest, and had each leg 1 runner do a lap around the start area upon being introduced. Tanner set the tone for our team, wearing a white jock strap over his black sweat pants. I noted a number of religious-themed team names, sharply contrasting to the many gamey Vegas names.

Our van had a certain symmetry - two race founders (Tanner Bell and me), two Kristin Bells (Tanner's wife and mother) and two participants in every Ragnar during 2010 (Amy Donaldson and Tracy Mullendore). Amy is blogging her experiences and observations at desnews.com. Amy was particularly interested in Tracy's story. He is running the Ragnars in memory of his wife who died of breast cancer three years ago. As he explained, Ragnar has become his church. It is where he connects with people and finds solace from his grief. From what I have observed, he is not alone in finding meaning in completion of a relay.

After the Dan's spirited introductions, which energized everyone, Kristin Sr., our first runner finally hit the road. Our adventure had begun.

Legs 1-6. The first six legs of the race mostly follow a narrow road along the Tennessee River. In the cool weather we all struggled to figure out the right number of layers to stay warm enough without overheating. Most of us ended up shedding clothes as we ran. There was intermittent rain until my leg, when it started raining hard about the time I handed off to the first runner in Van 2. The scenery was gorgeous, and traffic light. During this first group of legs, and throughout the race, many exchanges were located at churches, which seemed to be at a density of at least one church/mile.

I began my leg in a Gore-tek jacket with three layers underneath. I warmed up after a mile or so and shed the jacket the first time our van stopped to offer support. By the end of my leg I had shed two more layers and was running in only in a short sleeved tech tee.

Somehow, a short distance before the exchange I missed the sign for the final turn. Instead of turning right I continued along the road, heading up a long hill. Fortunately, before I got too far, a senior citizen couple in an SUV pulled off the road in front of me. Friendly as everyone in Tennessee had been, I thought to myself that they probably wanted to ask questions about the race. Instead, the first words I heard were, "You missed your turn." My reaction was first disbelief and then relief. As for disbelief, I remember races past when teams complained because the course wasn't adequately marked, resulting in their runner missing a turn and getting lost. In most cases the runner didn't see what was before his eyes. Now, as it turned out, I was one of those guys. On the way back to the exchange I saw the sign that I missed, prominently positioned where I might have run right into it. As for relief, once I gathered that the the couple knew what they were talking about I was relieved, first, to have been found before I got really lost, and, second, because I didn't have to run farther on that leg.

The couple dropped me off at the exchange, which was located at a school. I noticed my team looking for me to come running toward them on a trail. I walked up behind everyone and casually announced my arrival, surprising them all. Funny, actually.

After the run I queried on Facebook how long it would have taken me to figure out I was lost of the couple hadn't picked me up. Some wiseacre commented that I would have become like Forrest Gump, running till I encountered an ocean. Would that I could run that far.

Anyway, following the exchange we all piled into the van and headed for Sewanee, home of University of the South, where we had heard there was a great place to eat. Unfortunately, I can't recall the name of the restaurant, but it was very good. They served a wonderful bean soup. I even tried their coconut pie, which I shared with everyone else on the team. We seated ourselves at the only open table in the restaurant, which as it turned out was open for a reason - it was located right in front of the back door and every time someone walked in we got a nice blast of cold air.

Legs 12-18. Appropriately enough, Exchange 12 was located at the Cowan First Baptist Church. I say appropriate because there must be more Baptist churches in Tennessee than there are Mormon churches in Utah. In Utah, churches are built only when the church hierarchy decides it is time to build another church. In Tennessee, evidently, when a young pastor with a divinity degree figures out how to raise enough money and finds a market, he builds a church. It would appear as though the pastor market is not unlike the market for dentists or lawyers. Some have little shops in the country and barely eek out a living; others have what it takes to draw a big crowd, which means large churches with big parking lots. Those big churches make perfect major exchanges.

By the time we started running the rain was gone, the skies had cleared and the temperature had dropped. Kristin Sr., as usual, ran without complaining. Tanner struggled with a sore IT band and Kristin Jr. with a sore lower back. Tracy always ran hard with a fierce determination, not to mention perfectly coordinated outfits. Amy was ever cheerful, seemingly having an reporter's endless fascination for the stories of the runners. In virtually every van someone is running to stick it to cancer, to overcome grief or to please some team captain who wouldn't take no for an answer and discovered an inner runner in a couch potato's body. Whatever the twist, Amy could find it and spin it into a tale that teaches not just about running, but about the human condition.

I ran leg 18, the last in our van and the shortest in the entire race. Only 2.7 miles long, the first half of the leg features a few rolling hills; the last half is a steep downhill that ends at a park in Lynchburg. Knowing I didn't have far to go, I pushed as hard as I could through the hills. Then, remembering many a long, hard run down City Creek or Farmington Canyon, I picked it up when I reached the final long hill. I have no idea how fast I ran, but I felt fast - fast for an old guy with six decades behind him and a gimpy knee. Whatever the pace, it was a joy to run hard.

At the exchange old episodes of the Office were playing on a big outdoor screen, and hot chocolate and s'mores were being served. All very nice except that the temperatures were approaching the freezing point and the only folks watching the big screen were volunteers. I chatted with a couple of them. I swear someone must have given everyone in Tennessee happy pills. Like everyone I talked to they were excited about the race, had nothing but complements, hoped we would come back, and want to run next year. We've met some very nice people all over the country, but for uniformly pleasant, polite and enthusiastic I don't think I've been anyplace quite like Tennessee.

After hanging out for a short time, we drove to a motel somewhere near exchange Exchange 22, where Tanner had reserved a room. There we showered and, for maybe the first time during a relay, I actually slept for an hour or two, sharing a bed with Tracy, who for the record did not snore. I set my alarm for 4:30, which gave us just enough time to arrive at Exchange 24 within about 30 seconds after the Van 2 runner arrived.

Legs 24-30. It was dark at Exchange 24 but the sun came up by about Leg 26. It was clear and cold, the ground covered with frost. During this stretch, the hardwood forests of southern Tennessee gave way to rolling pastures lined with long fences. We saw large horse farms, some of which were reputed to be the property of the rich and famous, including country music stars and Al and Tipper Gore. I saw a few brave souls, the competitive types, running in shorts, but most runners wore sweat pants, gloves, hats and jackets. The morning sun provided little warmth but illuminated a tame but lovely countryside.

I was nervous for my leg. I didn't have the spring in my legs that I felt in Vegas. I tried to visualize running strong, but was having a hard time convincing myself. After what seemed like an endless wait Amy handed me the baton and I was off. On this, as on the previous leg, I took off limping but within a short distance was able to run with rhythm, though my legs felt heavy. The first stretch of the leg is along the shoulder of a busy highway. I had the thought that if some driver took his eyes off the road for a moment I could quickly transform from runner to hood ornament, which would be a poetic way for a race founder to go out. Once we crossed the highway onto a quiet country lane that vision passed. I had only to concentrate on finishing strong and marveling at the large McMansions of the outer Nashville burbs. After passing the "one mile to go" sign I came to a roundabout with an arrow pointing right. I debated with myself for what seemed like a long time and then followed the roundabout to where it dumped me on a road heading right from the roundabout. Running up a hill I again was met by someone telling me I had made a wrong turn, although this time the messenger was on my own team. They picked me up and dropped me off just past the roundabout for my final half mile or so. In the distance I soon saw a shiny office park that I figured must be the location of Healthways headquarters and Exchange 30. I saw Dan and his green wig announcing arriving runners. I heard him call my name and identify me as the genius who came up with the Ragnar idea. Having been called out, I ran as hard as I could through the exchange, arms raised in triumph.

Finish and Aftermath. After we completed leg 30, we drove to the house the Ragnar crew had been using the past two weeks. It was a large, beautiful house on a country lane, the best and least expensive, Dan told me, of any house they had ever rented. Everyone but me showered and slept. I showered, sorted through all my gear, and wrote.

We arrived at the finish an hour or so before Van 2. There I met my daughter Mari, who was waiting with her friend Sydney Rees who is trying to make it in Nashville as a singer-songwriter. Dan had arranged for Mari to do a recording session the previous day with one of Nashville's finish sound engineers. As Sydney told me, that just doesn't happen in Nashville.

The finish was on the river, directly across from Tennessee Titan stadium at the foot of honky tonk row. Still going strong, and still in his green wig, Dan announced teams as they crossed the finish line. Our final runner, Chris Infurchia, Ragnar's CEO, arrived wearing a large pink bra. He had run his final miles with a runner who slowed to encourage him in the true spirit of the event. Chris also had run the Ragnar Vegas and struggled with injuries. We ran behind him through the finish line and when he crossed a reporter immediately grabbed him for an interview.

After we all received our medals, including the coveted Deuces Wild medal awarded to anyone who completed Vegas and another Ragnar in the same year, we headed up honky tonk row for some barbecue, and then to our hotel.

Heathways arranged for Lonestar to play at the finish. This seemed like a really good idea, but due to a combination of fatigue and cold most runners, including the majority of our team, chose to not return for the concert. I arrived with Tanner, Chris and Kevin after the concert had been underway for at least a half hour. I saw Mari and Sydney next to the stage and joined them there. Dean, the leader of the band, commented on the small crowd, which he said comprised mostly friends and family, and invited everyone to come down to the open area in front of the stage. There I stood with Mari and Syd for most of the concert, the music soon causing me to forget the cold. After the concert I overheard Dean tell Chris that in the future it might make more sense to hold the concert before the race when everyone is still full of energy.

The idea of a concert celebration looks great on paper, but for the second time turned out not so good in the execution. The sparse turnout took me back to our very first Wasatch Back. That year I hired Ryan Shupe and the Rubber Band, then probably the hottest band in Utah, to play at the finish. As in Tennessee, most runners took off once done running, but a few came back for the award ceremony. We had contracted with Shupe to play and hour before and an hour after the awards. That year, as soon as the awards were handed out, every last runner took off, leaving only the Hills, the Bells and a few of our neighbors, the Rolands and the Williams, to watch the last hour of the concert. Like Lonestar, Shupe was dismayed at the tiny audience, but I think both bands and those who watched actually had a great time. I told Dan we really should bring Shupe back to the Wasatch Back. And maybe this time we can draw an audience. As for Lonestar, Dean seems committed both to running the Florida Keys race and to playing again at the Ragnar Tennessee, but next year maybe in Chattanooga.

I left the hotel very early Sunday morning to take Mari to the airport. About a half hour after I arrived Amy showed up and we talked for a long time. Other than Dan and Tanner, I don't know of anyone who appreciates the Ragnar series as much as Amy. She told me she had never run farther than four miles when she was invited by a reporter for the Salt Lake Trib to run on his team in the first Wasatch Back. She ran, including a seven mile leg in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm, and was hooked.

We mused about what it is about the races that means so much and keeps people coming back. On paper, it doesn't quite pencil out - hours of waiting, multiple runs within a 24-hour period, sometimes cold and wet weather, no sleep. What seems clear, however, is that something more than meets the eye goes on when people do things together that are hard. This week, an article in Sports Illustrated talked about how marathon participation has dramatically increased since the days of the "running boom," while times have gotten slower, and went so far as to say that completion of a marathon for many is a spiritual experience. Having run both marathons and relays, my experience is that marathons are more physically demanding but that the relay experience is more profound. As I said above, in every van there is a story of someone running to overcome hardship or push through a barrier. But beyond that, relays inevitably create bonds that change people, if only for awhile. As anthropologist Sarah Blaffer Hrdy wrote in "Mothers and Others," the abilities to empathize and cooperate are what make us human and separate us from the apes. In a world perhaps trending toward increasing selfishness rather than selflessness, relays force us into circumstances where we must cooperate and, through shared difficult experience, to empathize. As we do so, we touch on the best that is in us. And that, for many, is a spiritual experience.

Week 13 - End of 90 Days

The 90 days ended this week, not exactly with a whimper but certainly, for me, without fanfare. Our last week we were on our own so we all planned our own workouts and exercised independently of each other. The group had a celebration dinner Friday evening, which I missed because I was, and currently am, in Tennessee for the Ragnar.

Because I left before the final Friday workout, I was weighed and measured on Thursday. Final weight was 180, down from 207. Waist measurement was 33.5 inches, down from 39. Nice results for 90 days. This is just a beginning, and I am committed to maintaining the discipline I have exercised over the past three months. Talked to Dan last week about meeting M, W and F for weight training at 6AM. Then cardio on our own and T, Th and Sat. If it works, Dan and I should be able to keep each other working hard. I also appreciate the opportunity simply to spend time with Dan.

Our final homework project was to create vision boards, boxes or books. This entailed finding pictures and key phrases to remind us of our objectives. I spent Monday evening copying pictures from my iMac and from the internet onto a flash drive for printing at Costo. I picked them up Tuesday evening early, and was surprised I had selected over 50 photos, far more than I could use. Tauni had bought a foam board and I used colored paper for a background.

I laid out the pictures and had a hard time visualizing how to make it all work. I had seen vision boards created by other members of our class that were works or art, and could not seen how mine would turn out near so well. Finally I started cutting and arranging pictures that meant something to me, jotting down key phrases. I finally came up with the following words or phrases:

FAMILY (used family pictures from summer vacation to Cannon Beach)

FRIENDS (picture of Parky, Wil Colom and Derrick Johnson at a restaurant on the road to Morogoro)

MY ONLY ONE (three pictures of Tauni; she is beautiful in all)

Hit the road, Jack (pictures of Morogoro Highway, Trapper's Loop Highway and Avon Pass Road)

"We thank thee, Lord, for all thy bounteous blessings" (Picture of Grandpa Barney and Grandma Jo with Mom and Dad at a Christmas dinner. The photo could have been posed by Norman Rockwell. The phrase was uttered in every prayer I heard Barney give and reminds me to be grateful)

You Never Know (picture of Beatty and Hoffman from Ishar - reminds me to keep trying because you just never know what you might miss out on if you don't)

"It doesn't take much to realize that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." (Photo from closing scene of Casablanca, Bogart and Raines standing together watching plane carrying Ingrid Bergman and husband fly away. Reminds me to keep my problems in perspective.)

"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift." (Picture of Steve Prefontaine running last race.)

As a man thinketh ... (Pictures of Nelson Mandela and Morogoro Mountain. The ANC spent time in exile at the foot of that mountain. Mandela visited Morogoro (I believe) before returning to South Africa and over 25 years in prison. While there, rather than hating, he imagined, and later succeeded, in making peace, when violence would have seemed much more likely.)

Nyumba Bora. (Picture of prototype house at SUU, copies of which we plan to build in Africa in furtherance of our goal to be first to successfully provide reasonably price middle class housing and mortgages in developing world, most likely starting in Tanzania.)

First lines of "Relay" from chapter entitled "Dad." (Picture of young with golf bag over shoulder next to car. Reminder of goal to finish draft of book by March 2011.)

I felt like I had completed my first Young Women's project. Even thought I stayed up past midnight Tuesday putting it together I had fun doing it. It certainly focused my attention on things that are most important to me.

After presenting my vision board to the group on Thursday I thanked everyone, including our trainers and coach Kristin, for being there and inspiring and motivating me. I meant every word. It has been a wonderful, life-changing experience. Physical evidence of the change, aside from the loss of weight and inches, is my having completed two Ragnars within two weeks, which I hoped, but was not sure, I could do when I started the 90 days. I was skeptical I could get fit enough or that my knee would handle three relay legs but I did it. Twice. I have made mental/spiritual changes. The details of those are for another day. Suffice it to say I am happier and more productive, and heave improved relationships that are very important to me.

Weekend 12 - Eden to Paradise and back

Friday afternoon I called my good friend Dee Benson and asked whether he would be up for a mountain bike ride over Avon Pass - i.e., over the dirt road from Eden to Paradise. I did that ride one-way over Top of Utah Marathon weekend, but wanted to do the round trip. With winter fast approaching, this could be the last weekend the ride is even possible before next spring. Fortunately, Dee accepted. We planned to meet at my house at 930AM Saturday and from there drive to the south end of the road where the gate closes during the winter.

I went to bed Friday night thinking I would get up and attend our last 90 day Saturday morning workout. Still tired from lack of sleep during the week, and knowing I had a rough ride ahead, I decided it would make more sense to get up and make sweet potato pancakes, which I did. I offered one to Dee when he arrived. He tried to beg off, but after convincing him to try one he couldn't stop, and ate a couple more. One more sweet potato pancake convert. Why do so few non-Southerners know of their virtues?

I had carefully laid out my gear, knowing there was a likelihood of rain. When we arrived in Eden (or, more accurately, Liberty), I discovered I had forgotten my outer shell jacket, next to my bike my most important piece of gear. Consequently, we made a quick stop at Diamond Peak Mountain Sports in Liberty and found a terrific shell on sale. In fact, it was so terrific that both Dee and I bought one.

We finally hit the road around noon. The first 3 or 4 miles of the ride climb about 1400 feet. (Someday I will take my Garmin Forerunner to get an exact measurement of the climb.) That stretch of road isn't very good on its best day. After the recent week of rain, it is treacherous on a bike. In its wetter spots (of which there are many) it is more like stream bed than road, full of a lot of loose slippery rocks. Sure enough, I managed to lose traction in one particularly slippery area and went down hard. Fortunately, I suffered nothing worse than a couple cuts and bruises and kept going. At the top of the climb, which opens up in June to a broad, golden meadow, the trees had lost their leaves and the grass and flowers were all brown and dry. None of that, however, detracted from the spectacular mountain vistas that are a joy any time of year.

As we proceeded downhill toward Cache Valley the road improved and with it the scenery. We rode past increasing numbers of evergreens and even saw a few remaining deciduous trees ablaze in yellow. Dee noted a corral and commented that there is nothing he enjoys more than rounding up cattle, recalling the days he spend at Jim Clegg's ranch in Wyoming. (Jim's been gone 10 years now. He had a massive heart attack while riding his horse and was dead before he hit the ground. Can't think of a better way for a cowboy to go, though Jim was way too young, only 59.)

Since we got such a late start, I debated whether we should turn around and head back before we made it to Paradise. Always accommodating, Dee said he was up for whatever I wanted to do, but in his not-so-subtle way made it clear he would be disappointed if we didn't make it to Paradise. Heading downhill, the miles flew by so it soon became a non-decision for me to keep going till we hit the pavement. There Dee noticed with surprise the gorgeous ranches, wondering aloud, however, why anyone would want to live on Avon. After all, Avon is not at all close to convenience stores, movie theaters or gas stations. I observed that some people prefer the quiet, telling Dee of local opposition to paving the Avon Pass road. He seemed unconvinced. I at one time thought that paving the road was a good idea. But if that ever happened it would ruin one fine mountain bike ride, not to mention two of the best legs of the Wasatch Back. I am now squarely with the locals.

I told Dee it had to be about 10 miles from the end of the pavement to the Paradise Diner. Turns out that the first mileage marker indicated it was only 3. That's all it took to convince me we needed to ride to the diner, which was our original destination.

It took about 1:40 to make it to the diner. It was, as usual, empty, except for a couple of employees. I commented to Dee how I couldn't imagine they could make enough to pay two employees, let alone buy food. In his best cowboy way Dee observed that we showed up around 2PM, which wouldn't exactly be the lunch hour peak in Paradise. He suspected, allowing that he couldn't possibly know for sure, that they might have a bit more business around breakfast time, a decent crowd during the lunch hour, and a few more folks at dinner time. Had to admit he had a good point.

We ordered chile and hot chocolate. The waitress told us we would have one refill of hot chocolate, then corrected herself and said we could have as much hot chocolate as we wanted. Dee limited himself to one refill. It was so darn good I had two.

As we hit the road again it started raining lightly. Dee commented that there was one thing that could really spoil a ride like this. That would be concerning ourselves with whether it was going to rain. As he put it (more or less): "If you worry about the rain you'll ride like hell and worry the whole time. If you don't care, you won't worry about the rain and you'll enjoy it if it comes." In fact, I was worried about riding in a cold rain. After Dee's sage advice I calmed down and figured we would be just fine no matter what came.

As we rode past a canal near where the road transitioned from asphalt to gravel Dee mentioned a case currently pending before him where the US government has taken the position that grading a road next to an ancient canal running through someone's back acreage in Heber was permitted as "reasonably necessary" to the maintenance of the canal. Accordingly, the government argues it is not obligated to condemn the land for the road and pay the landowner for the taking. This got me sufficiently wound up that Dee commented I was even riding faster. I mentioned that this was the whole point of the due process clause, at which he commented that I sounded like a Democrat, which long ago for a brief period of time I claimed to be. It does in fact seem that if the government has more or less unlimited money to spend on blowing things up in Afghanistan and other far off places it ought to pay for plowing a road through a good American's back 40.

Dee then asked about my nutrition regimen, considering that since the 90 days began I have lost nearly 30 pounds. I told him I have cut out most sugar and starches, including breads, eat more protein and vegetables, and have gone cold turkey on Diet Coke. I added that I enjoy drinking water more than I ever have and even drink green tea in the office. At this point he shouted, "Stop! I can't stand any more of your monologue. You have eliminated everything I like to eat." I protested that I was just answering his question and that he was, after all, the one who got me to read, "In Defense of Food." He said he didn't care, he wouldn't hear it. I had eliminated a good portion of the fun in life. Which of course is fine if you have Dee's metabolism and exercise habits. If I ate like Dee I would look like an overfed hippo, to which I think I did bear some resemblance before I began the 90 days.

The ride back is a long, gradual climb. Somewhere about halfway to the summit the rain came down fairly hard. We noted with satisfaction the water beading up on our new outer shells, confirming the wisdom of our purchases. When we crested the summit we took a few minutes to enjoy the breathless view of Ogden Valley and the rugged backside of Ben Lomond. Then it was on down the steep final few miles of the road, which, with the afternoon rain, had rivulets of water running everywhere and even deeper ruts. Picking a passable line down the road seemed almost a technical challenge. I followed Dee, but still managed to wipe out once. Notwithstanding the valley view, it was a relief to finally hit the pavement. There Dee noted my mud splattered pants, shell and bike, and observed that I looked the way a mountain biker ought to look.

We stopped at the Eden Maverik to fill up with gas. Dee asked if I wanted anything to eat, then said, "Never mind, there's nothing in there you can eat." Still, I walked around with him and finally had got a pumpkin flavored frozen yogurt cone, which I enjoyed very much. Dee also talked me into only about my fifth Diet Coke since the 90 days began. When he dropped me off at my house, at which time the rain was coming down hard, he pronounced our journey the "perfect ride."

I couldn't agree more.

Week 12 - What's it all about?

This has been an exhausting week. Got home late Sunday evening after the long drive from Las Vegas, and then was up at 4:45 for my Monday morning workout. Flew to San Diego for a mediation Tuesday. Back home and in bed around 1130 and then up early again. Worked till 9PM Wednesday; up early Thursday. Flew to San Jose late Thursday morning; arrived home late. Up early Friday. To top it off, the workouts this week were all long, including extended sets.

Through it all, however, I was happy to be up early and working out. In fact, the busy schedule and lack of sleep added to my sense of satisfaction.

Which all brings me back to my Ragnar Las Vegas experience, and wondering why that all works so well. Why are so many people so thrilled with that experience? Why do they keep coming back for more, even planning their years around multiple Ragnars?

Even though it apparently is human nature to avoid hardship and pain, there is no question that we experience satisfaction, even joy, from doing hard things. My brother-in-law told me awhile ago about certain people at his company complaining that what they do is hard. His response, in essence, was, "Of course it's hard. If it wasn't, everyone would do it." He proceeded to convince the company to adopt as its motto, "We do hard things." The family motto of my neighbors, the Bells, is, "We do hard things." Maybe why that is why I see so many Bells do so much good.

There has been a fascinating string of comment on the Ragnar Facebook page about Las Vegas Leg 24, the 8.8 mile run over a boulder-stewn "trail" in the dark. As I noted last weekend, I heard a lot of R-rated curse words from runners on that leg while waiting to provide aid to my son Brandt. Ragnar asked for comment on Leg 24 on Facebook - whether the leg should be improved or rerouted. A few folks recommended rerouting because of the risk of injury. But the overwhelming majority commented that surviving the leg was a great experience and recommended that it not be changed. It appears that, if anything, Leg 24 will become the signature leg of the Vegas race, just as the Ragnar leg, with its 1678 ascent over 4 miles has from day one been the signature leg of the Ragnar Wasatch Back.

In trying to understand the paradox of why we seek to avoid difficult things but gain so much when we undertake them, I reread Rob Schultheis' book, "Bone Games." I followed that up with Maria Coffey's "Explorers of the Infinite: The Secret Spiritual Lives of Extreme Athletes - And What They Reveal About Near-Death Experiences, Psychic Communication, and Touching the Beyond." Both Schultheis and Coffey come from the community of extreme climbers, who -though Coffey says they would never admit it - aspire to the mountaintops in large part for the spiritual enlightenment that comes in those places closest to the heavens, not unlike, say, Moses or Mohammed. Schultheis writes at length about the initiatory rites of shamans, which consist of various forms of extreme deprivation and pain that ultimately open the initiate to visions and enlightenment. Native Americans named these experiences Bone Games. Coffey writes of miraculous feats of strength, premonitions, psychic communications and other phenomena experienced by extreme athletes. There clearly is a lot going on that we barely understand when we are pushed to the limits of endurance.

For many, Ragnar as a physical test that almost could be likened to a Bone Game. The combination of physical exhaustion and sleep deprivation is sufficient to unclutter the mind and bring the present into sharp focus, thus dispelling stress and worry, opening the mind to the beyond. It would be interesting to know whether, and to what extent, this clear mind causes Ragnar participants experience what they would consider insight or enlightenment. Without question the Ragnar experience has created strong bonds of friendship and has caused many to improve their health and fitness through improved diet and exercise. It would be interesting to know whether this added discipline improves other facets of life, including family and other relationships. I expect that it would.

These positive changes, however, will be lost if discipline is not sustained. Since I was a small boy, I have been taught that we must endure to the end. From this maxim, two concepts emerge. First, no backsliding. We must have the discipline to maintain good habits for a lifetime. Second, this discipline requires endurance. Perhaps that is why endurance sports may have the most to teach us. We are made to endure to our limits. Only by continuing to push our limits can we reach our potential.

As the late, great Steve Prefontaine said, "To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift."

Weekend 11 - Run Like Hill

We are on our way home from Las Vegas. Tauni is taking her turn at the wheel. Our team, “Run Like Hill,” successfully completed the Ragnar in 33 hours. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around that number. My first Hood to Coast team finished in just over 25 hours and I thought that was slow. With this team, however, time was irrelevant. For several of us, just doing it was accomplishment enough.

We spent the night before the race on a houseboat at Callville Bay on Lake Meade. My brother Tracy’s daughters - Renee, Sarah, and Kelsey - were all relay rookies and jumbles of nerves. On the way to the houseboat they drove the first part of the course where they would run, which only served to raise their apprehensions to the point of tears. They, with Sarah’s husband Ryan, their brother Chad, and sister-in-law Michelle, comprised Van 1.

The pre-race tension was broken somewhat by brother Geoff’s recorded team cheer:

What are we gonna do? Run.

What are we gonna do? Run.

Are we ready? Shiii...

Are we ready? Shiii...

Are the Hills in the house? Woof, woof, woof.

Are the Hills in the house? Woof, woof, woof.

That cracked us all up.

The Van 1 group departed early, with Tracy and his wife Joeen, our photojournalist. Progress reports trickled in as they finished their legs. Their fears had melted to something seriously approaching euphoria. As they neared Exchange 6 I checked in frequently with Renee for their ETA. Her last text to me before the exchange, “So excited to see you guys in a few minutes ... this is sooo much fun!”

This was also a first time for my niece Brittany, who, together with her husband Ryan, Tauni, son Brandt, future son-in-law Blake and me, made up our group. Unlike Tracy’s daughters, however, Brittany seemed positively serene. After a long day of waiting we finally met Van 1 at the Callville Marina, Exchange 6. Ryan handed off to Ryan and we were on our way. While we waited to send Tauni off at Exchange 7, Amy Donaldson’s van parked behind ours. Amy, who writes for the Deseret News and is running and writing a chronicle of the complete Ragnar cycle in her blog, cheerfully announced that her team would finish last, as is their custom. She told me one of her teammates had lost 180 pounds since he started running. He corrected her, slightly, agreeing that he had lost 180 pounds but gained 20 back. After Amy’s van pulled out, the Domestic Divas, Kristin Barrus’ team, pulled in (Kristin being my 90 day coach). I introduced myself to her team mates, who had heard about me from Kristin. I didn’t see Kristin as she ran into the exchange, but saw her soon after, her face flushed with effort, clearly having reached the elusive level 10 (max effort).

I brought four pairs of running shoes with me, which I freely admit is excessive. Anxious about my knee, I wanted to find the pair that would work best and planned to try out three of the four pairs during the race. After walking and jogging in all of them, I finally settled on Nike Lunar Glides for my first leg. I also brought support tights and two knee braces, which seems only slightly less excessive. As it turned out, I ran in the Lunar Glides all three legs but started with a CloPat strap and switched to tights and an Ace brace to support my knee for my second and third legs.

My legs got progressively harder - leg one 3.1 miles and partly uphill, leg two 4.6 miles and uphill into the wind, and leg three 5.6 miles uphill. Following Kristin’s coaching, before running I visualized myself crashing through barriers and getting stronger each leg. In the event, it went exactly as I imagined. During my first leg I quickly found myself in slight oxygen debt but became somewhat more comfortable the further I ran. As I crested the final hill I could see the exchange maybe 1/4 mile away and lengthened my stride, ran in at a decent pace. I began my second leg at about 2 AM, a cold wind blowing. I took the the Wil Colom birthday collection of songs to accompany me, figuring that it would take about 15 songs to get me through the leg. I lost count of the number songs, but recall listening to the end of love song collection, the gospel and patriotic sections, and the beginning of the civil rights selections. Back in the van I twice played through Diane Ross performing “We Shall Overcome” with the Budapest Philharmonic. Leg three passed through a beautiful red rock canyon, finishing at Spring Mountain Ranch, where tame burros roamed the parking lot. The gospel songs carried me through the final miles of the leg. After handing off to Brittany I hugged Tauni and then had to fight back tears, a race first for me. I have never felt such a sense of achievement upon completion of a race; I really believed I would never be able to run like this again.

This race experience delineated itself sharply between the three sets of legs. The first 12 legs run through the Lake Meade National Recreation Area. The scenery is dramatic, starkly beautiful. Leg 12 finishes at Lake Las Vegas Resort, a luxurious high-end resort built in the optimistic days before the Great Recession, green lawns and palms in sharp contrast to the jagged brown hills surrounding the resort. Exchange 12 has been my favorite exchange at every relay I’ve been involved in, and this was no exception. Runners are seemingly all high from having completed their first legs, fatigue and sleeplessness having yet to take their toll. The Lake Las Vegas oasis provides fantastic swimming pools, hot tubs, cabanas and food. Some runners relaxed by the pools and cabanas while others enthusiastically cheered on teammates at the exchange. Our group ate pasta together after sending off Kelsey at the exchange. Tauni’s brother Mike had offered to let us stay at his condo at the resort. Little did we know how massive the resort would be, and we elected to head to Exchange 18 rather than try to waste time trying to find it.

We were among the first to arrive at Exchange 18 in Henderson, a large park and concert venue. There most of us rolled out tarps and sleeping bags on the grass and tried to sleep. Knowing better than think I could sleep, I wandered around, jogged yet again in my Skylons and Newtons enough to conclude I best stick with the Lunar Glides, and finally pulled out my Kindle and read for a while. We sent Ryan off around midnight. By this time the wind was blowing and it was getting cold, enough so to complicate the decision about what to wear when running, long sleeves or not. We followed Ryan for the first part of his run, who reported a course marking issue that we promptly reported to race central. Tauni was cold and anxious before her run. I held her at Exchange 19, trying to calm her and keep her warm. Always nervous to run in the dark late at night, she asked that we keep close and provide a lot of support. After a couple miles she threw off her long-sleeved shirt and waved us on. Our fatigue grew and moods darkened as we approached leg 24, Brandt's leg. Brandt lightened things up a bit as he took off in his skeleton costume; I thought to myself there is a reason he works at Disney. Anxieties rose as Brandt’s leg veered onto a rocky trail. Tauni insisted we watch him carefully. Fortunately the trail ran in close parallel to the highway. We stopped several stops where I was able to give him water. I saw one runner lose it, f-bombs flying. That was definitely the low point. In the dark of night, I thought the course needs to be routed off the trail, but I eventually got some perspective, realizing that the changing conditions must be taken in stride and viewed as part of the overall race experience.

Brandt finally handed off around 6 AM at Exchange 24, which is located near an old school. I gathered that the school was of some historic significance and son Dan explained later that the exchange itself had some interesting features. By that time, however, we were all so tired that we couldn’t appreciate it and wanted to get to Exchange 30 and rest as quickly as possible. At that point I seriously questioned my resolve to run the Ragnar Tennessee. While I was thinking, Tauni, a madwoman in a hurry, grabbed the wheel of the van and asked me for directions. I searched the Ragmag for off van driving instructions but couldn’t find them. I then plugged GPS coordinates into my Tom Tom, selected yes to the option that warned of dirt roads on the route. As the sun rose we found ourselves on an empty and deeply rutted road that seemed to have been built to connect scattered mobile homes and dirt farms. As Tauni voiced her exasperation that the Ragmag lacked off van directions, Ryan sweetly pointed it that it did, which demonstrated my inability to read with comprehension during a Ragnar. After driving 15 miles or so we finally reconnected with the race course and followed it to Exchange 30. There my vision of a tranquil grass resting place was shattered, the exchange being located on rocky patch of dirt, the apparent remains of a landfill, various household articles including shoes and small appliances strewn here and there. Volunteers there served pancakes in an effort to raise money to save the old school at Exchange 24. I tried some and they weighed heavily on my stomach but was pleased to hear one of the volunteers say they had served over 1000 order of pancakes with a lot of runners still to come through. The line at the portable toilets was long, several panicked runners having to cut in the front in order to do their business in time to meet their teammates at the exchange.

After what seemed like a very long time, the Van 1 group arrived. They were all in high spirits, particularly Sarah. She joyously announced, “This is the happiest day of my life!”

I replied, “Happier than your wedding day?”

“Oh yes,” she said, “I already told Ryan.” I assume he understood.

Back on the course, everything became hilarious. Leg 31 is a killer, 10.1 miles with an 1100 foot climb the first 6.5 miles. Per the Ragmag the leg is unsupported, which the women in my van, given the leg’s difficulty, considered downright cruel. They insisted that I pull off to give water to Ryan. When I resisted, citing race rules, their response was that it would take three violations for us to be thrown out. I told them I was far less concerned about that than jeopardizing next year’s race permit, which they thought was ridiculous. As I pulled off the road, I announced, “This is freaking scary!” They all thought that was uproariously funny. Near the top of the hill we met Ryan again. Mari asked if he wanted her to finish his leg, to which he answered, “Heck, yes!!” Mari prepared to run and we pulled off one last time just over the crest of the hill. When he arrived Brittany questioned his manhood, telling him he didn’t appear to be injured, at which point he flipped her off and kept running. Mari eventually did get her chance to run, accompanying Blake on his last leg. I was anxious before my last leg, changed outfits and shoes a couple times, and to my surprise felt very strong throughout the leg. Everyone on every team seemed giddy at Exchange 36. We sent Brandt off, stopped once to give him water, and then drove to the finish to meet the rest of our team.

At the finish Joeen handed out Run Like Hill t-shirts. Renee, unfortunately, had to leave to catch a plane before we all arrived. Her absence from the team picture created a mini-crisis, which was resolved when her brother Geoff agreed to stand in for her with the understanding that her face would be Photoshopped onto his body for the official team shot. Tanner Bell announced our arrival at the finish line, and I saw Dan as soon as I crossed. It made me very happy that they were both there when I finished my first Ragnar, the founders together for that moment.

I learned long ago that with relays the journey is the reward, but this time I experienced an unexpected feeling of satisfaction, even joy, after the race. After checking in at the hotel we got on an elevator with another group of runners. One of them, a veteran maybe a few years younger than me, rhetorically asked, “Does anyone actually enjoy these while running them?” Looking back, the answer is yes, but for the middle stretch of this race the answer would definitely have been no. In the wee dark hours of the morning I was ready to again call it a running career, and was trying to devise the right way to break it to Tanner that I would definitely not be running Tennessee. Before the evening ended, maybe even before the race ended, I was mentally making plans for Chattanooga. In the end, all of it was worth it. This was an unforgettable experience and will be part of family lore for a very long time.

Week 11 - Headin' out for San Diego

I recall a time when one of Tauni's and my favorite songs was "Come Monday," Jimmy Buffet's ode to the loneliness of the road. Seems like I have spent a lot of time there the past several years. I really don't want to take off all that much anymore, at least not alone. I'm currently flying to San Diego; had to miss my morning workout to catch this flight. I miss our group and am already mourning the end of 90 days, which will come all too soon.

Now I am thinking beyond, toward winter and how to maintain what we've begun. This includes continued vigilance to maintain good diet and exercise habits, but also maintaining friendships. Changes can bring both joy and struggle. I have always wanted to see what is around the bend and have sought to avoid routine. I am energized by new experiences, challenges and friends. And, yet, it has been such a pleasure to get up early every day, meet the same group of people working toward a common goal, and come away on both an endorphin high and with the attitude that I am up for anything life throws my way. That structure has improved my life and I will be sorry to see it go. Now I must take initiative to plan exercise routines, find workout partners, and maintain relationships.

With the Vegas Ragnar coming later this week, I already feel my adrenaline surging. It has been a long time since I laced up my shoes for competition. Low key though this competition may be - several on our team running in their first race - I feel like a racehorse in the gate, ready to burst out and push toward my limits, even though I have know idea why I feel I should. What in the world is it that makes us want to compete? Why do we have a need to push through barriers? I recall Kristin telling me about visualizing crashing through walls during the final miles of the Top of Utah Marathon. I passed that image on to Nina, who used it to keep going when she wanted to quit running during the St. George Marathon.

I flipped through an issue of Trail Running on the flight. The issue focused on 100-mile ultramarathons, and, in particular, on this year's Western States 100. Times keep coming down; the winner nearly broke 15 hours this year, a bit over 9 minute mile pace. That's faster than the pace I hope hold in the Ragnar. The Western States recap described how the top competitors had to back off and regroup at times during the race, or, in other words, fight through their own barriers. A lot of ultra-distance running is managing pace, nutrition and hydration, which makes smashing barriers possible. A relatively short overnight relay does not involve near the stress on the body of a 100-miler, but the process of regrouping and facing mental barriers is similar. Key for me will be to keep going without being stupid and pushing into injury.

It has been a long time since I felt this anticipation. I can't wait for the experience.

Weekend 10 - Gratitude hike

Our 90-Day group gathered at 7:30AM Saturday morning to hike Adams Canyon. This was billed as our Gratitude Hike. I am afraid I missed the memo directing us to make a list of the 5 things we were most grateful for. More on that later.

I had heard of, but never been, to Adams Canyon. When we arrived the parking lot was already half full, and as we began our way up the switchbacks we encountered runners returning from their morning trail runs. Partway up the trail we saw campers and, along the way, many hikers. The trail is very well groomed and the scenery, especially on a perfect fall day, spectacular. Having lived in Davis County for nearly 30 years, I can't believe I have missed it. It already is one of my favorite places and it will be a place I return to again and again to hike and run.

Kristin, our coach, directed us to head up the canyon at our own pace and we quickly broke into small groups. I soon found myself walking with Melodi Christensen, whose husband Josh helped me prepare for the program with a number of muscle activation sessions where he successfully revitalized my legs and shoulders. Melodi is sweet, kind, quiet and serious. She seems very consistent and has been extremely generous to me. Kristin joined us after we had hiked for 20 minutes or so, and asked Melodi to list the 5 things for which she was most grateful. Besides her husband and children she expressed gratitude for aspects of her religious faith, all of which I found very endearing.

We were soon joined by Meg Naisbett, my fellow BYU Law School alum, and a retired Weber County prosecutor. Meg asked me what 5 things I was most grateful for, at which time it was evident that this was something I should have thought about in advance. I won't say I was exactly stumped, but I did have to give the question a few moments of thought. My first response was "my wife and four kids," which adds up to five. I then explained that if I consider them two categories - wife and children - I am grateful for friends, "this!!" (while holding my arms out wide and looking at the gorgeous canyon walls), and finally the experience we are soon to complete. My list is much longer than that, but it is a pretty good start.

I asked Meg, "What about you?" She expressed agreement with my own feelings about the benefits of our 90 days.

We finally all found a gathering place near the canyon stream and then shared our thoughts and feelings about our common experience. Without going into the details of people's comments, many of which were very personal, there seemed to be a couple common threads;

First, while we are of very diverse ages and backgrounds, we definitely have formed a bond. I recall during orientation that Marci or one of our coaches, possibly Kristin, commented that we are all part of this group for a reason. And, indeed, we all came seeking to improve our lives, physically and mentally. Doing so is hard and requires a lot of discipline, and it seems a bedrock principle of human nature that people who do hard things together for a good purpose inevitably form strong attachments. Many Ragnar and other overnight relay participants have reported a similar bonding experience, though no doubt the strength and durability of the bond is proportional to the length and difficulty of the struggle.

Second, while there was mention of the physical benefits of the program, people focused more on the mental and spiritual changes they had made. These included improved relationships with spouses, relatives and colleagues, discovery of self worth, banishment of chaos, and balance. There were more than a few tears shed. That and someone spilled her Camelback directly uphill from me so that somewhere in the middle of our discussion I suddenly discovered that my butt was cold and wet, providing momentary comic relief.

I hiked back with Meg. We got separated from the group and, demonstrating the skills lawyers lack, managed to twice walk past the trail spur that leads back to the parking lot (which as trails go is on the order of a freeway). We first wandered too far north, then too far south. We finally got directions from an old veteran and successfully made it back to our cars.

I got home in time to see Tauni drive off, headed for a bridal fair in Provo. The whole wedding thing is hard for me to comprehend. Tauni and I got married a month after our engagement and I recall nothing about the planning other than where to go on our honeymoon, the ring, something about the dress, and the location of our reception. I don't recall Nina's wedding being very complicated. The planning for Mari's is on the order of a presidential inauguration. I thought everything was settled a couple weeks ago with dates and locations of the rehearsal dinner and two receptions (one in Salt Lake and the other in Poway), the dress, the photographer and the ring. But there seem to remain a myriad of details to resolve that I scarcely comprehend - which include, so far as I can tell, the florist, the table decorations and the reception menu. I am sure it will all be lovely. Can't wait to see what they all decide.

Anyway, after Tauni left I changed into bike gear with the object of riding my bike for about an hour. I did the out-back ride through Farmington to Glover Lane, past Dan's house and out Sunset to the new junior high. Round trip 22 miles. Average speed 16.9 mph, a new record for me.

Following the ride I drove to Provo to pick up Tauni and visit my valiant brother Ron and wife Karen and my parents. Ron and Karen have been tending Dad most of the time since he broke his hip a couple months ago. Dad seems remarkably improved. I am astounded, though, that Ron and Karen have been willing to put their lives on hold to nurse Dad back to some semblance of independence. They have been remarkable, and for their service the entire family should be very grateful. They are not the only family members who have stepped in to help, but no one else has set aside everything to basically do nothing but meet the needs of Mom and Dad. My deepest gratitude to them for their sacrifice.

More week 10 - Vegas baby!

I did another City Creek run yesterday, after a killer morning workout. Being still of knee no less sound, I told Tauni I would join her in Vegas. So this 90-Day experience will end with 2 Ragnars in two weeks. Yes, Chris McDougal, I was born to run!

The workouts this week were intense. To state the obvious, it has been a lot of fun to get stronger.

Looking forward to going with the flow at the relay.

Week 10 - I discover the fountain of youth

It's Wednesday of week 10, and I am feeling good, better than I ever imagined. This morning we designed our own workouts. I started with shoulders, what I learned the week 1 was the weakest part of my body. Surprisingly to me, I was able to shoulder press more than double the weight I struggled with the first week. I also did one-legged bench dips with relative ease. The first week two-legged bench dips caused significant shoulder pain. So it seems I am getting stronger.

On Monday I attempted the City Creek Canyon run I first did 27 years ago. Those were the days when I ran frequently at lunch with Charley Allen and David Hardy. We would start at the parking lot next to the Capitol and run to Area 7. Total distance about 4 1/2 miles, though we counted it as 5.

I haven't run over 3 miles in at least 6 years, maybe 7. My goal Monday was to do the traditional run from the Capitol to Area 7. I set my watch altimeter to measure the climb and took off. Turned out that though I am not used to running for more than short distances I was able to reach Area 7, though I was breathless a good part of the run. I noticed my legs are definitely a lot stronger than maybe ever so the climbing was actually pretty easy. I walked from Area 7 to the half mile marker and ran the 2 1/2 miles back to the Capitol, mostly on the trail. There are several uphill stretches on the trail, even on the way down. The dirt felt a lot easier on the legs, and was a lot more fun, than the asphalt road going up. I made it down in at about 10.5 minute/mile pace, slower than in the old days but OK.

For the rest of the day following the run my right knee was sore and felt misaligned, but by morning the pain had gone away. I know one Ragnar leg will be fine. The question is how the knee will respond to 2 more. I talked to my physical therapist friend Nylin Johnson this morning. I asked whether he thought the knee would hold up. He said there are no guarantees, but went on to say that there are a lot of things we may choose not to do if concerned about possible injury. He asked, rhetorically, "Isn't Ragnar what you've been pointing to?" Without using so many words, he essentially told me that the best parts of life involve testing our limits, breaking through barriers, mental or otherwise. He suggested using the knee brace to help the joint stay properly aligned, and added that it would be worth it to rent a bike and a rack to ride between runs. Cycling always helps my knee feel better.

When I got home, Tauni asked if I would be willing to run Las Vegas in two weeks. I said sure. Now I am hoping I will have two Ragnars under my belt by the time the 90 days are done.

Before I started the 90-Day program, I felt as though age had slowed me enough that I was on the steady road to physical decline. I watched my dad struggle to get around and thought that was my fate, and soon. I recognize now that my barriers were mental, not physical. My body remains capable of much more than I imagined. I feel like standing on a street corner, preaching the gospel of nutrition and fitness. As I hear commercials advertising new diet pills and read of advances in bariatric surgery, I suppose I feel a bit sad those cures offer at best temporary improvement, and that health, fitness and happiness is available to most everyone through proper nutrition and exercise. If that message were widely taught and believe, America would be a healthier and wiser place, maybe even wealthier.

Weekend 9 - I mash my quads and seek enlightenment

This seems like the first weekend since this 90-Day adventure began when I haven't been involved in some event that disrupts what I imagine is my more or less normal weekend routine. This weekend involved no out-of-town travel, no visiting president, no house guests . . . . Whoops, I take it back. We did have a house guest - my grandson Max. And he does require a lot of attention. As Mari observed, Max really puts you to the test because he talks constantly and he requires responses to his incessant questions. Definitely one way to keep your mind sharp.

Meanwhile, his parents Dan and Jamie are off on one of Dan's many work-related trips - to Kona to participate in the various and sundry Ironman activities. This is one of several endurance events Dan has attended over the past few months in the interest of mining for ideas to enhance the Ragnar brand. If nothing else, Dan is learning about the variety of endurance athletes and their motivations. Some, certainly, are all about ego and vanity; some, perhaps, about social connections; and some, a solitary few, about seeking enlightenment.

Before I get to enlightenment, however, there is the matter of my quads. My neighbor, Shane the pilot, drove past my house Saturday morning as I was watching Max ride down the sidewalk in front of our house on a scooter - all intense concentration - together with Tanner Bell's daughter, Maci. Shane asked if I wanted to join him for a bike ride. I had planned to do a run, but no way would miss a ride with Shane. Shane is a great companion but at least 20 years younger, nearly 20 pounds lighter, and a fair amount stronger than me. While he'll go easy for me, a ride with Shane means a good workout, which this turned out to be.

We debated how long and far to go. I suggested an hour and a half out, and then back, which was actually longer than I wanted to go. Having ridden the Timpanogos Alpine loop the day, Shane suggested an hour out, which was perfect. We set out for the Antelope Island causeway. About an hour out, short of the causeway, having had nothing nothing to eat all day, Shane told me he would like to find a gas station and some food. I proposed we had back and stop at the Swan Lake Golf Course along the way, which we did. There we had grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches. Well fed, we continued back, taking an extra loop past Dan's house. The final five miles Shane pushed me pretty hard. I could feel the strain on my quads and gluts, but didn't bonk. In the end, this turned out to be maybe the strongest ride I've done -- 35 miles, 2 hours 7 minutes, 16.5 mph average speed, 2000 calories burned.

Along the way I told Shane about my 90-Day results. Shane achieved similar results beginning a year or two ago when he bought his road bike and started doing two-a-day workouts. We also discussed the recent Boyd Packer conference talk and resulting furor. Shane mentioned he has flown for seven years with a co-pilot who is gay. His friend knows a many gay Mormons, four of whom have committed suicide. It is very troubling to me that young gay Mormons find their situation so hopeless that they see no out but to take their lives. The last episode of "Glee," the only TV show I watch, addressed this issue. The father of the gay character suffered a heart attack that left him in a coma. The gay son's friends rally round and many of them try to support him with prayers. He angrily tells them he doesn't want their prayers. He doesn't believe in God. How could there be a God, he asks, when he is ridiculed and reviled for being gay, a condition he did not choose. No God could be so cruel. This is Packer's argument turned on its head. Packer argues God loves his children that and therefore will provide a way for them to lose their gay sexual orientation. The tortured young gay man argues that his being gay is evidence there is no God. Could both be wrong?

The answer to these questions requires enlightenment with which I have not yet been blessed, though I certainly have my opinions. I certainly seek enlightenment, which is maybe the main reason for this blog. I expect answers to questions to come to me because I write. Writing forces me to think and to imagine, and sometimes in my thinking and imagining I find insight.

Last weekend Nina related to me that story of her friend who was accompanied on her nighttime leg of the Red Rock Relay by a tall, blonde man. Except that when she told her friends about this protector, her friends, who watched the last part of her run, told her there was no one there.

Early this week Dan talked about the mental (or maybe even spiritual) experience runners have while running an overnight relay. Team members seem to open up to each other, to reach out to meet each other's needs, to become connected or bonded. This experience is repeatable. We observe it again and again. Runners express enthusiasm, even euphoria, about their experience.

We have described this mental state or feeling as being the result of mental and physical stress achieved in a team setting. Dan wondered if something similar is experienced during ultramarathons or Ironman-length triathlons. When he asked the question I recalled a book I read several years ago by Rob Schultheis called "Bone Games." I reread the book this weekend and came across this:

This is the story Joanna told me a month later back in Kathmandu: "The fourth day out, we were walking in the early morning. It was raining so hard we could barely see a hundred feet in any direction. I had gone on ahead of Francesca, and I came to a stream. it was moving really fast and there was no bridge, just a series of stones. You had to jump from one to the next. I got out in the middle , and then I just froze. The next stone was just too far to jump to, and I was slipping. Once in the water, I would have been swept away, drowned --

"Suddenly a bearded man, a saddhu, appeared beside me; he was wading in the water, bracing himself on a long wooden staff. He spoke to me in perfect English, that funny kind of accented English educated Indians speak. 'Here, let me help you,' he said. He took my arm and helped me the rest of the way across the steam.

"I sat down on a rock, real shaky still from almost falling in the water. A minute later, Francesca came across the stream to where I was. 'It's a good thing that saddhu helped me,' I said. 'What saddhu?' Francesca asked. I looked around and there was no one there.

"'I watched you cross the steam,' Francesca said. 'There was no one else there. You started to lose your balance in the middle, and then, after a few moments, you fulled it all together. I tried to call to you, but the sound of the water was too loud. But there was no one out there with you.'"

There surely is more to the universe than meets the naked eye. Someone, or something, helped Nina's friend Marlilee and Schultheis' friend Joanna. Was it mind, or spirit, of someone from an unseen world? I am convinced we are connected in ways we don't understand and can't yet imagine. I have faith, or at least hope, that in time we will find answers.

Week 9

Marci told me when she interviewed me for my slot in the 90-Day program that the mind transformation of the program would be more significant than the physical, assuming of course that I paid attention and did the homework. The physical changes are easy to observe and measure - I have lost pounds and inches and my newer clothes don't fit while my older clothes (those I bought 15 years ago) do. I also am definitely stronger and, to my astonishment, can run fast and even jump.

Mind changes, on the other hand, are more subjective. And like the physical changes, they may not be permanent.

All that said, I have noticed significant changes of mind or, if you will, spirit. Years ago a wise man asked me if I was at peace. I replied that I was not. He then told me to do what I needed to do to find peace. My first thought was, "Please tell me how to do that." But he didn't. He left that to me.

I spent years with a knot in my stomach. I talked to a counselor who certainly has been interesting and empathetic. After a year or more of counseling she recommended a pill to help dissolve the knot. Peace, however, whether internal or external, doesn't really come from a pill or a bottle. Though pharmaceuticals can help, real peace requires work and change, and the nature of the world is such that, even when we think peace has been restored, things happen that we cannot control to disturb our peace.

That said, I believe we can quiet the rumblings, or at least learn to live in a way that doesn't cause ourselves to suffer pain unnecessarily.

I have told Tauni more than once since this program began that this has been the happiest time of my life. I talked to Parky after my mid-term interview with Marci. I asked him how I appear to the world. He told me I appear to be at peace.

This has been a blessed week. I have been struggling internally with some work issues for a long time. That struggle has adversely affected my relationships with good people I work with. I sat down with Tauni Tuesday morning and told her of my concerns and outlined some alternatives. This, by itself, was a breakthrough. She advised that I talk to the firm to try to resolve the issues. I followed her advice and the response has been very positive, if not overwhelming. Kind words have flowed back to me that I did not expect.

I mentioned to Tauni that I think I have been more up front about things. She agreed, and said that my failure to do so in the past (which pretty much includes our entire marriage) has caused me to behave badly. It's hard to dispute her comment. Certainly my failure to discuss matters where I perceived the possibility of conflict has brought me turmoil internally and that turmoil has affected my relationships with family, friends and co-workers.

So, is Marci right? Is the mind transformation more significant than the physical. Time will tell but for now there is no question that the mental part is going well. I am, finally, at peace and hope it can remain.

Weekend 8 - St. George Marathon

I left work at noon Friday to pick up Nina for the drive to St. George for her first marathon. She texted me Thursday, full of excitement and anticipation. Nina and I haven't had one-on-one time together for years, so I was equally excited for the opportunity to have four more or less uninterrupted hours to talk. Of course, as long as we were within cell phone range there was no truly uninterrupted time, but this comes as close as it seems to get.

We arrived in St. George around 6pm and went straight to the marathon expo at the convention center. The parking lot was still near full and the center packed. As soon as we entered the center we saw Tanner Bell, who manned the Ragnar booth on Friday and was there to support his wife's marathon run on Saturday. Tanner is still almost shockingly thin from the 90-Day program. He still had his left arm in a sling from dislocating his shoulder and breaking his collar bone while playing ultimate Frisbee. He told me he's lost even more weight since the injury because he's lost muscle as a result of not being able to work out.

Nina found a belt to hold her Goo and beans while running the marathon. I bought some socks and sunscreen. The quest for the perfect running sock seems almost as illusive as the quest for the perfect running shoe.

We had dinner at the home of the mother of Nina's friend Anndee. Several of Nina's couple friends from Ohio State were there, most also planning to run the marathon. Following dinner Anndee's brother-in-law Rick took us to his parent's huge post and beam cabin in Pine Valley, not far from the start of the marathon. I slept in a bunk room with a couple other guys, close to the door where I could make my way without incident to the bathroom during the night.

During dinner and then briefly at the cabin we watched Utah State dismantle BYU. Hard to believe BYU has fallen so far so fast. They have lost some great skill players but I couldn't help but think that coaching must be a problem. Sure enough, the day after the game BYU fired its defensive coordinator. I suspect more changes may be on the way. Seeing their ineptitude reminds me how hard it is to sustain excellence. There is not a huge gap between the good and the average. Hard work and a good system probably account for the distance even more than talent, as the Aggie's spirited demolition of more highly-recruited BYU athletes demonstrates.

We all arose early Saturday morning for the race. I assumed Nina would ride to the start with me. She loaded her bags in my car. I then saw her behind Rick's suburban with her friends. Next thing I knew Rick was backing out and she was gone. I assumed Nina was in Rick's Suburban with her friends but wasn't sure. I could have run into the cabin to check but Rick was on his way and I thought I'd better follow him. I assumed I would see Nina at the start.

Just before reaching the start area we were stopped by uniformed officers at a road block. They waived Rick through since he had several runners with him. Because I had no runners, they stopped me so, being in an area with no cell phone coverage, I couldn't be sure Nina was in Rick's Suburban. Nonetheless, I took the detour and started back to St. George, where I had planned to have a relaxing morning - breakfast, newspaper, book and wait for runners to come in. But I had the nagging concern that Nina might not have been in the Suburban and wanted to see the start anyway. I turned around, drove back to the road block, parked, and then walked the 200 or so yards through the brush to the start. Before reaching the start area I fell and drove a large thorn through the palm of my hand. A large pool of blood began to form in my hand, so I didn't notice till Nina pointed it out to me at the finish that another thorn cut up the back of my calf.

Trying to pick out one small blonde woman in the dark at the start area amid over 7000 runners proved impossible. I hoped I could find her in the 4 hour pace group, but no luck. Then I ran to the front of the start chute, where I hoped I could pick out Nina after the gun sounded when she came out of the chute. Again no luck. After the runners had all cleared I walked back to my car and drove the 10 or more miles back up to the cabin in Pine Valley. I found one of Rick's kids there, who assured me everyone was gone. Thus calmed, I departed again for St. George, only this time, with the main highway blocked for the marathon, I had no choice but to head north and drive through Cedar City. The whole operation involved a drive of 170 miles took over three hours. I made it to St. George right about 10AM, 3 hours and 15 minutes after the start.

As I drove up Bluff Street I saw cones blocking the street and runners crossing. They were moving surprisingly fast. I quickly found a place to park and walked uphill to a sidewalk along race course where I could continue to walk against the flow of runners and watch for Nina. I came upon an aid station where a volunteer told me it was 1.2 miles to the finish. Almost immediately I saw Nina's friend Holly run by. She had projected a finish time of 3:20, she was almost right on target.

I continued uphill, hoping to see Nina soon. At about 10:45 I was getting concerned when in the distance I saw a small blonde in red singlet with black shorts trimmed in red and green. I soon recognized her as Nina. To my relief, she looked good and was running efficiently. She saw me, flashed a huge smile and gave me two thumbs up. I snapped a couple photos as she ran past, and then called Tauni to report.

My next task was to make it to the finish line as quickly as possible. I was probably about 1 and a half miles out. I started to run, and as I did, found that the runners were moving faster than I thought, at what in my current state is a pretty brisk pace for me. I started cutting across parking lots and through a park to where I again met the race course. I ran on the opposite side of the street from the runners for their last two or three turns until I hit the final straightaway. I then saw Nina again, slightly ahead of me. I ran as fast as I could to pass her and get in position for a picture near the finish. Before I reached my goal a police officer waived me off the road and onto the sidewalk. There I found myself behind a wall of spectators and could barely see the runners but kept Nina in view as I continued to run down the sidewalk toward the finish. I snapped a few pictures holding my camera over spectators, hoping I would capture Nina. Finally, I reached the finish line grandstand and could see nothing more. I had no option then but to head to the finish area and hope I could find Nina.

The St. George Marathon is extremely well organized. My two encounters with local police attest to their efficiency at crowd control. That said, without Nina having a cell phone, and with thousands of runners and their families at the finish, it was going to be a long wait before I found her. I found the gate where runners emerged from the finish area and waited ... and waited ... and waited. After 45 minutes or so I found a clear area in the grass near the gate and sat down, hoping Nina would find me. After another half hour or so I saw her walk out the gate with her friend John Bowen. They were engaged in conversation and didn't see me. I finally got her attention. Her first words were, "It was HARD, Dad." But she then quickly added, "I ran 4:05. I wanted to run under 4 hours for you, but I gave it everything I had."

I told her I wanted her to break 4 hours for herself, but truthfully there was a big part of me that wanted to see her run as fast as I did on my one St. George attempt - 3:55. As it turned out, her time for a first marathon was very impressive on one of the hottest St. George Marathon days ever. Over 1700 of the 7000+ runners who started didn't finish. Average finishing time was 4:24. Two of Nina's friends collapsed on the course. One passed out near the finish. No one saw him for nearly a half hour, when his wife noticed him, got him revived and had a couple men carry him across the finish line. Another friend began vomiting around mile 18. It also took him about a half hour to calm his stomach and revive himself enough to walk to the finish.

It is quite a contrast between the universally energetic crowd at the start and the exhausted, sore runners at the finish. Those who spend the most time on the course seem to suffer the most. I noticed a big difference in the apparent condition of the runners on pace to finish in the 3:20 range and those finishing near or after 4 hours. Running a marathon under any conditions is a challenge. Running in the heat can be brutal. Nina prepared and managed the race well. She put in the requisite long runs, and during the race walked through the aid stations and kept herself well nourished and well-hydrated. She told me she was very glad she ran her own race rather than hanging with her friends who came in around 5 hours. After all her hard work, she deserved a time reflective of her effort.

It was a lot of fun for me to experience Nina's joy in her accomplishment. She told me more than once after the race, "I am SO happy, Dad." I enjoyed hearing her retell her race stories to friends. She told me she was so glad I was there with her, which made me feel very good.

Nina being Nina, she made a friend during the race, a woman named Merilee, who she ran with for the first 10 or so miles of the race. Merilee wanted to qualify for Boston, meaning a faster pace than Nina was running, so Nina let her go.

Merilee told Nina of her experience during the Red Rock Relay encountering a couple of threatening cowboys during the middle of the night. She said she prayed and was impressed to walk away from them when she saw a tall blonde runner who told her she could run with him. After awhile he said her pace was faster than his and asked if he could simply shine a light on her and run behind. Not long after her team van arrived and accompanied her to the exchange. When she told him about her protector, her teammates told her there was no one there.

After Nina told me this story she said she really wanted to reconnect with Merilee but didn't know her last name. Turned out she saw Merilee again around mile 23. Nina thought she might be able to find Merilee in the finish results and then locate her. Serendipitously, it seems, Nina's cousin Jeff's wife Alena wrote on the family website of her neighbor Merilee who had run the race and talked of a wonderful woman named Nina she met during the race. Alena posted Merilee's phone number and it turned out she was indeed Nina's new friend.

What unseen forces connect us with people? That is one I can't answer, though it certainly seems at times that an unseen hand guides us to people who bless our lives. Nina, with her warm and open heart, has a gift for making such connections.

A lot of memories of my St. George Marathon rushed back as I wandered the start area. I ran it in 1987, along with several friends, including running partner Charlie Allen, law partner Bob "Mad Dog" Henderson and Dr. Tom Dickinson. I had injured my hamstring and didn't run at all for the two weeks preceding the marathon. Consequently I was rested and my legs fresh on race day.

I vividly recall the cool morning and warming bonfires in the start area. I remember the excitement when we finally began our run and the ease of the first 13 miles. I followed a couple of runners, one a woman who kept up an entertaining stream of chatter for miles. I strategically walked the Veyo hill, thinking there was no point in expending a lot of energy on that climb, and walked through all aid stations, being careful to get lots of nutrition (in the form of Gatorade) and hydration (water). The easy running suddenly turned into a slog around mile 18. There a gradual 2 mile climb began and by mile 20 it was only by act of sheer will that I kept joining. Charlie's wife Suzi met me there, and ran most of the final six miles with me. She chatted the entire time and it took so much energy to concentrate that it almost heard to keep her tuned in. The final straightaway seemed endless, and then, suddenly, I was under the finish banner at 3:55. My friends had all finished long before me, but I was satisfied that I had run as well as I did, injury and all. For a day or two I had to walk down stairs backward, so sore were my quads. I only ran one more marathon, Portland in 1993, and there achieved my PR of 3:38. Being there with Nina made me wish I had run a few more. I am glad to have completed the two I did run.