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.