Great River Ragnar Relay: The Return of Ricky's Dirty Dozen 8/19-20/2011

I started the long, painful, solo drive from Omaha to Minneapolis at 11:30 AM on Thursday, and arrived in time for the carpool at 6:30 PM. As a team, we drove "Uncle Scott's" borrowed van from Minneapolis to Winona arriving a little after 9:00 PM. It was a long day of butt pain, but I was committed to my team and my captain.


My very good friend and our team captain, Thelma, was instrumental in my development as a runner and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her or with her, so when she calls for me, I am there. Usually our antics involve four components: 1) dressing up, 2) doing something athletic, 3) alcohol celebration, and 4) fun. This year and event, was no exception.


There were four returning members and we were short a runner, so we were technically only Ricky's Dirty Dozen Minus One. Our all-woman team was quick to pick up extra legs and it was nice having the extra space in our van. We got our obnoxious bright orange costumes/uniform from the Iowa Prison Industries, official convict jumpsuits. Temperatures hit highs in the 80's so I was not one of the girls who decided to run in uniform. I considered mine a Radioactive Hazard Suit after all my sweating and baking in the sun.

This year's course started in Winona MN, crossed over into Wisconsin, followed the Mississippi River for miles and miles, and after 196 miles ended at the University of Minnesota campus boathouse. Last year I had a few more responsibilities: I drove, navigated, took times, splits, gave massages, and actually had to use my brain. This year, I was treated like the running muscle and I wasn't expected to think. It was like my mission was just to turn my brain off and run. 
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I was runner #1 so I got to start the party at 9:00 AM Friday morning. 

Friday 9:00 AM: Leg 1 - 7.67 miles - Time 1:04:00, Pace 8:21

It is crazy not to get caught up in the start. We are given a start time based on the overall estimated finishing time of the team, so those people running the same legs are you can be any speed. I take off way too fast and cannot control myself - an internal struggle takes place between between mind and body throughout an entire hour. I eventually get the slap bracelet to Deb and consider running the 6+ miles with her, just so I don't have to sit down for an hour. I decide to stop because my right baby toe is a giant blister turned open wound in Green Silences. GROSS!

Friday 10:30 AM: Leg 3 - 5.34 miles - Time 46:29, Pace 8:42 

Deb hands back off to me and I take off in my Adrenalines. This leg is straighter and flatter, through cornfields and end up in a small town park. I stop to help a 14-year old girl who is struggling. We talk for a bit and her family decides to drive behind her and leap-frog her more closely. They tell me to go ahead, so I go. It is boring and getting hot. I see much more walkers than expected, people are already throwing up in the bushes. I am thankful that my legs are done until the evening. It's going to be a hot one!

During the break where Van 2, and our other 6 members pick up the course, our van goes to Major Exchange 13 to eat and rest. It was during this time where I hit a low point and want to go home. Not sure why this happening, but I shed a few tears, feel pretty isolated, and just don't care to be there (where?) anymore. My phone goes in and out of service and I send a few sad, sorry text messages to a few people to saying, "I need a break from running". At the current time, I mean it.

Friday 7:30 PM: Leg 13 - 6.37 miles - Time 56:00, Pace 8:47 

The first of the night legs, I put on my reflective vest, head lamp, and flashing-red butt light. The last runner from Van 2 hits me with the bracelet, and I take off like a bat out of hell. A girl in a prom dress (yes, really) was right on my tail and for about 40 yards, it is as if we are racing. All of a sudden, I find myself in small town traffic; the locals are heading to dinner in the town's only restaurant. I stop and let the girl catch up. She says she's planning a 9:00 pace, I tell her I want a 8:30. We make some kind of deal to run 8:45's and run the leg together. It proves to be a great decision and talking to someone while running, brings me back, lifts me up, and recharges my spirit for the remainder of the race.  

Friday 9:45 PM: Leg 15 - 3 miles - Time 25:41, Pace 8:34 

Holy Shitoly, it was dark out there. I love running with Thelma. I will always love running with Thelma. Reminds me of our Purdue days, except for the fact that we never ran around in absolute darkness in the middle of nowhere. 

Saturday 5:20 AM: Leg 25 - 3.9 miles - Time 30:00, Pace 7:42

Slept on a hard gymnasium floor at a junior high school at the Major Exchange for about 45 minutes, and was amazed that the other four girls could sleep so well and three times as long (just me being jealous). I wake up Trisha and we head to the exchange zone because we hear that Van 2 is ahead of schedule. The other of the girls, from either van are no where to be found. I am about the 6th person in line waiting for a porta-potty when I hear a volunteer yell, "Team 171!" I respond, "I'm here!!" and run out of the line for the can, directly into the exchange corral, and get the bracelet. I motor up the hill and hope that my van gets everything together and meets me at the next exchange. I run by the Correctional Facility in Stillwater MN and am quite happy that I'm not in my orange jumpsuit. The sun comes up and it's a great day to be alive. I can't believe I'm running so well. By the time I finish this leg, my grand total is 26.28 miles. 

After 21 hours, my job is done. We crew and cheer each other on, and when our van completes all our legs, we just loiter at the finish line waiting for our team to show up. At 2:42 PM, we meet up with the girls from other van, and in uniform, jump in to finish the race with our last runner. By this time, I am over-sunned, fatigued in every way, sore all over, slap happy, and malnourished. 


Ricky's Dirty Dozen is 149th of 280 relay teams, and 6th out of 19 all-women teams. 

That night I drive back to Omaha. It is similar to Ragnar but instead of driving and running, I am driving and sleeping along the route home. I make it home Sunday morning at 8:00 AM, incredibly sore but at least I'm not tired.

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What I learned this year:

1) Driving or sitting in a vehicle hurts more than running.

2) Running 26.2 miles in 5 separate legs is much harder than running a marathon to completion.

3) I am still and probably always will be an "Incredible Sweater".

4) Best treat : Fresh hot gas station coffee and a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips (Friday 9:30 PM, 12.5 hours after the start).

5) Relays really are a lot of fun (after the race).

Having some fun with the local police

Boxer 500 - Balls to the Wall 8/14/2011

First race after the ultra and I chose Boxer 500, a 5K around Walnut Creek Lake in Papillion, NE. The funds go to fight against colon cancer, the cancer than runs in the Aleong Family (my father's side). It was very important for me to at support the cause, since my Godfather and dear Uncle Richard underwent his second major surgery to remove tumors and cancers. He was still recovering in the hospital when I was running. I wore the same Lucky Boxers as last year and pinned a "shout out" for Uncle Richard on my ass.

The morning race expectations were unclear. I agreed to watch a friends baby girl, so her parents could race their hardest. At the most, I would run comfortably with Olivia in her running stroller and take it easy for the path around the little lake was narrow and curvy. About 15 minutes before the start, a decision is made to leave Olivia with another friend who is not running, and all of a sudden it's on like Donkey Kong.

Our small group of TNB mates and affiliates line up at the front of the pack. Usually the best plan is to run even splits, but today we have a new plan (I would not recommend this race strategy to anyone unless they think they can win): We're going to go out as fast as we possibly can to take the lead, then let everyone else have to pass us to get in front.

The first half-mile, the mission is accomplished, but I soon realize that it's a pretty stupid plan. I am running naked (aka sans Garmin), so I have no clue how fast I'm going, but as fast as you can compared to anything slower, makes you feel like you're moving in slow motion. People start passing me and I try and settle into a pace that is on the brink of total body blow up.

I think twice during this race, "I may actually throw up during this one".

We pass a water station with 3-4 jugs and lots of cups, but nothing is poured and no volunteers are there to distribute them. I consider stopping to help, that's how badly I don't want to run anymore. It's about 1.5 miles into a 5K. Not a good sign. I keep pushing through because ultimately I have to get back to the other side of the lake where I started.

At the finish, my brain is fried. I have no idea how many people passed me (seemed like a lot) and with the aid of chip timing, I pretty much dismiss the fact that I could win an award in any category. I hop on to a massage table managed by Better Life Chiropractic and Wellness Doc, Jeff Cumro and we go through my very long list of ailments. During his adjustments and ART, I hear my name. I pounce up and run around like a chicken with my head cut off to accept a medal for first in the F35-39 age group.

This 5K killed me and I realize: I hate 5Ks.

Way too fast.

Way too many brain cells lost after this one.

What's next?

Not a 5K.

No thank you.

Thoughts About Corporate Cup

Today I ran a Corporate Cup 10K qualifier at Lake Zorinsky with a Taia and BOB. We finished in 48:31. It was the fastest time I ever ran a 10K. I don't really like 10Ks. They are like 5Ks but twice as long.


I talked to John and Kathy for the first mile, dodged a giant praying mantis on the path, and decided not to let my sore ass stop me from getting this run done. By the time we hit 168th Street, we were moving fast, but I wanted to take full advantage of any flat straightaways. I caught Kim around Mile 2, chatted briefly but took off as we headed up the dam. (Attack the hills!)


By Mile 4, the pain was stronger, but so was my will to keep moving. Taia perked up in an irritating way saying, "Please can we go home? I want to see my elephant. I want to catch butterflies." (Today friends gave her a new game for her birthday called "Elefun"). Then she saw the playground and asked to "go down the slide". I felt horrible lying to her, saying, "almost done, almost there, not really". This conversation went on until we went under the bridge back at 168th. This is when I decided to go all out.  


They put breaks on the BOB Ironman for a reason!

I put on my big girl underpants, and ran us across the finish by the baseball diamonds. I didn't look at my Garmin even once. I just wanted to keep moving steady and strong. I was hurting and sweaty but proud. Taia was grumpy and hungry but quiet. Mosquitoes at that moment seemed to look like the mammoth ones in Colorado, so we got out of there as fast as we flew in. 


Mile Splits: 8:29, 7:34, 7:50, 7:51, 7:40, 7:46 - not to shabby for a mom with a sore glute pushing a toddler in a stroller. 


I earned a Select Seeded Pass to the Corporate Cup on September 18, Omaha's biggest 10K Race. I missed the Elite Race by 1:31. Could I have done this without a stroller? Do I want it?


I guess the question is this: Would I rather be the slowest of the Elite race or one of the faster people in the Main Race? 


Maybe I choose none of the above.