I found out last week that I’ll be runner #12 for Ragnar Wasatch Back this year! While being runner #12 was my first choice, there are some things that make me nervous. I’m a flatlander taking the turtle approach to rebuilding my running base, and I’m training to run in the mountains of Utah at 6,000 ft elevation as the last runner in a relay. I will not be fast.
If you don’t know what a Ragnar is, than let me give you a brief overview before I start counting to 15. You and 11 people hop into 2 vans and proceed to take turns running over the course of about 200 miles. You shower with baby wipes, praise your respective deity when there are only 4 people ahead of you at a port-o-potty, and sleep in a van or on a gym floor – if you’re lucky enough to get a couple hours of sleep between legs, that is. Ragnar, without a doubt, is one of my all-time favorite things I’ve ever done. I love them so much that I’m even a Ragnar Ambassador this year. So, because there are 15 Ragnar Relays throughout the country, here are 15 reasons why you should run a Ragnar (in no real particular order):
1) It’s a great introduction to distance running. Other than the occasional untimed 5k that centers on getting doused in colored chalk or running through lights, most races have an element of competition. You’re trying to beat yourself or the person that’s been in your 5 foot radius the last 2 miles, and that can be intimidating for new runners. Add in a few extra miles for a 10K and you’ve officially gone from a fun activity to an actual race. Ragnar allows you to work on running further distances in a more friendly setting. The focus is on teamwork and finishing each leg strong (or at all in some cases – I’ve had some extremely tough legs). You aren’t letting anyone down if you didn’t hit your goal pace for a leg, and you always have a chance to try again with the next one. Many of my teammates who weren’t originally distance runners have left Ragnar wanting to run 10ks and half marathons because they know they’re able to run the total distances – even if they’re broken up between legs during Ragnar.
2) Any running ability can do it. Each person runs a total of 3 times and the leg lengths vary. One person could run a series of 5 miles – 10 miles – 6 miles, while another person runs a series of 3 miles – 2.5 miles – 3 miles. You know beforehand what distances you’re running as well as the elevation change within each leg. But even then you can always switch up runners at the last minute if need be. In my last Ragnar we had someone who was blistered and bruised before his 3rd leg; a gruesome 8 miles uphill in the desert. So I volunteered to switch legs. Even though that meant running back to back 8 milers for me, I was more than happy to switch knowing that he was hurting. And hey, if that guy who rarely runs could do 10 miles total in painful Sketchers he bought the day beforehand, anyone can do it.
3) Coming up with fun themes. One of the things that makes Ragnar so fun is that people get extremely into character. Teams dress up in costumes, decorate their vans, and try to outdo other teams. For my first Ragnar we were team Salute Our Shorts and all ran in American flag shorts. Other than just being incredibly stylish, it paved the way for a dramatic finish as our final runner raced down the hill in Aspen neck and neck with the final runner for team Canada. We had the entirety of both teams cheering on our runners, chanting praises for our respective countries, and ending in one giant mass of North American pride. While usually it’s respectful to let an entire team finish at once and to give them room, this was an exception. It was essentially the Olympics. USA! USA! USA!
4) Running at night. The idea of this originally freaked me out. What if I got hit by a car? What if there were no other runners around me and I got lost? What if a manbearpig attacked me? However, running at night has proven to be the most fun part of Ragnar for me. For one, the weather has cooled down so it’s easier to push yourself to run faster. And what’s sexier than a reflective vest, a headlamp, and a blinking red light to alert your presence to everything around you? Nothing. That’s what. While you don’t really get to see the scenery due to the lack of nocturnal vision, there’s no better rush than running in the dark, trying to catch up to the blinking red light ahead of you to get that kill.
5) Kills. This is Ragnar speak for when you pass someone, and it’s tradition to mark the number of people you’ve passed with tallies on the side of your van. Even the least competitive person on your team will beam with pride when they finish their leg and say they got 2 kills. This tends to push you to run harder and faster because you know that you’ll get another kill in just a few hundred yards (even if it takes a mile and a half to actually reach that person). Even just passing one person is enough to call the run a success.
6) Cheering on your teammates. One of the most fun things to do during the race is park the van in a totally inconvenient spot, get out, and yell uncontrollably at your teammate for the 6 seconds it takes them to run by. We wave flags, blast music, and try to be as obnoxious as possible. Since each leg is about 3-8 miles, there’s usually an opportunity to pull off at least once for the sake of embarrassing your teammate in front of fellow Ragnarians, as well as taking an unflattering running photo of them. And if there’s a time crunch, there’s always the option to honk loudly and scream out the windows of the van as you pass your runner.
7) Cheering on other teams. One of my favorite memories from the Colorado Race this past year was pulling off in the driveway of a small airport to cheer on our runner during her 8 mile night leg. As we waited for her to arrive, we cheered on every other runner that went past us. It was 1:30 in the morning and these people had already been running for 6 miles at that point. Watching the looks on their faces as they were cheered on by random strangers was intoxicating. Each person went from looking beat down to having regained some of that initial excitement. It took nothing more than saying “Great job runner! You’ve got this!” to someone who was contemplating giving up and walking, to get them to change their entire attitude. As they passed us they would smile, some would say thanks, but almost every single one seemed to leave with their head a little higher and their speed a little faster. It’s my best memory from that race.
8) Swag. Ragnar has some sweet stuff. For one, the logo is pretty cool, and they stick it on everything. I have Ragnar shirts, water bottles, tank tops, jackets, hats, etc. Each person on the team gets a shirt that says their particular relay on the back, but you can always buy more at the tents near the start and end. I wear my Ragnar gear regularly, and it’s such an easy way to strike up a conversation when you see another person with the logo. I recently ran the Twin Cities marathon this past October, and I noticed a man next to me had a Ragnar temporary tattoo. As I was chatting with him about the series, a few others joined in the conversation. It certainly made the prerace jitters subside a bit and take my mind off the cold. There is a special bond between people who have run a Ragnar, and we brand ourselves with pride.
9) Get to meet new people across the country. I’m about to run my 3rd Ragnar – the SoCal race that goes between Los Angeles and San Diego. My team is made up mostly of the group I did my previous race – Las Vegas – with; and I didn’t know a soul before that race. I joined a random team solely because I wanted to do the Las Vegas race. They were made up of people from all across the country. I met 11 strangers when I got off the plane that day and I had one of the most fun weekends in recent memory with them. In most situations it would be the beginning of a horror movie (25 year old girl shows up to Las Vegas on her own to get into a van with people she’s never met), but for Ragnar it’s completely normal. In the end we got along so well that within 5 days of completing the Las Vegas race we had already agreed to do the SoCal race together in April.
10) The exchanges. Each time the slap bracelet “baton” (Ragnar is super high tech) is passed between runners, it happens at an exchange. Usually you’ll find a dozen or so teams waiting and cheering for their runner. It’s a great time to talk with teams you’ve recognized throughout the race but haven’t had a chance to meet because of the whole running part. And it escalates into a big party at every major exchange (6, 12, 18, 24, 30) because both vans of people for each team are there. These exchanges usually have food and hot cocoa, a building to go inside, often a place to get a few hours of sleep, and if you’re lucky they’ll have showers. There are hundreds of Ragnar racers hanging out, taking a break, cheering anyone and everyone on, and really getting into the spirit of the race.
11) It’s a good excuse to travel. There are 15 races all over the country. From Washington to Tennessee to California to Florida to Massachusetts, there are a lot of races to choose from. Running races are a great excuse to travel somewhere new, and Ragnar lets you pick destinations from an entirely new perspective. I’ve been to southern California once before, 7 years ago, but have yet to go back since. I’ve said over and over that eventually I’ll get back, but it wasn’t until my Las Vegas team decided we were going to do Ragnar SoCal that I had that extra push to get me to finally go.
12) The medals. When you complete a race you get an awesome medal that also doubles as a bottle opener. If you do two specific races that count for a double medal, than you get a large, colorful, double bottle opener medal. They. Are. Awesome. And when you walk around with 3 medals from a single race around your neck, people will point it out and give you lots of high fives. This in and of itself makes running the races worth it. The medals are sweet.
13) Ragnar allows you to see some of the most beautiful landscape in America. Running the trails of the Colorado Rockies can only be described as breathtaking. There is nothing better than watching the last bit of sunrise in the early morning hours through the thick, green trees lining the Rio Grande Trail; acting as a barrier between you and the rushing stream offshoot of the Roaring Fork River. Each Ragnar takes you 200 miles on trails throughout parts of the country that you’d never see otherwise. Whether it’s through the desert, the mountains, along the coast line, or around great lakes, you’ll get lost in the beauty of the scenery.
14) Picking another Ragnar team to compete against. Each Ragnar has between 200 and 1000 teams that you’re competing against. This allows for the actual pressure of winning to be lifted (unless you’re one of those teams made up of college track stars) because you understand that you’re just trying to get the best time you can. However, your start time is determined by your projected end time, so there are always a few teams that are about your same pace that you see over and over again. You see them at the exchanges, you kill each other back and forth during the legs, you trash talk them in your respective van. There is that one team you have dubbed your Ragnar competitor for that race. For my first Ragnar it was a group of people in purple sequin tutus. We didn’t care if 15 people passed us, as long as we passed team purple sequin tutus (if they were ahead of us) that was all that mattered.
15) Bragging rights and a sense of accomplishment. Tell someone you just completed a 200 mile relay race. They will probably buy you a beer (or in my case after Colorado, a glass of wine). It’s a sense of pride for yourself, for your team, and you get to brag about it because it’s worth those bragging rights. You finished that Ragnar race, and you have the bottle opener medal to prove it.
"You do realize that two years ago this weekend it was Coachella and [everything that goes with Coachella/REDACTED] and this year it was running 200 miles?"
Friday at 9:30am, I got into a van with seven other people all wearing matching shirts.
Shirts!
Van 2, ready to go.
33 hours later, after running 12-23 miles each without a shower or access to a proper bathroom, through no sleep and tired legs, after being chased by dogs (Will) and getting hit by a kid on a bike then having a panic attack (me), and with our first van dropping out of the race, six of us crossed the finish line, filthy, exhausted, and victorious.
I went in thinking it was probably going to be difficult, but not that difficult. I was only running 15 total miles. I've done two half-marathons this year, how hard could it be?
Before my first 5 miles.
After my first 5 miles.
I knew that much of the race would be hilly. I didn't realize how hilly.
What my first mile looked like.
After that first run, I started to realize what I had gotten myself into.
We go on the weirdest dates.
Because along with the hills and the all-night running, Ragnar isn't able to shut down the streets. It's not like a regular race where you cruise through blocked-off streets. You're waiting at stoplights and dodging cars and in Will's case, getting chased by a dog.
Will finishes his first leg.
With legs 6-12 out of the way, we handed off the baton to Van 1 and went to get some food and head to the next major exchange. It finally sunk in that this was going to be a grind, mentally and physically. I would go through pre-race jitters two more times, try to calm my nervous stomach in a porta-potty that had been anointed by thousands of runners before me (and baking in the hot sun for hours.)
You know you're running a 24-hour relay race when pooping at a place called "Tip Top Meats" feels like a luxury. #ragnarsocal #ragnar
— Nina Bargiel (@slackmistress) April 20, 2013
I would try to gauge hydration and nutrition and experience running through pitch blackness past abandoned fields and through freeway underpasses at 4:02 in the morning, trying not to let my brain get the best of me but still managing to outline a full Law & Order: SVU episode.
I decided to run as fast as I could through these sections, imagining that if a killer saw me they'd be so threatened by my physical prowess that they wouldn't bother. It made a lot more sense at pre-dawn and on no sleep.
After Van 2 finished our second legs of the race, Van 1 told us they were dropping out. We weren't sure if the Ragnar officials would let us continue, so while we waited to hear from race command, we all vowed to finish the race regardless. Even if we got a medal and a DNF, we'd finish the race we came to run.
Word came through minutes later: we weren't eligible to win the race (like that was ever a danger!) but we were cleared to carry on.
So we did.
Off and running my last 6.2 miles.
My last leg was my toughest leg of the race. Not only was it the longest distance, but there were multiple hills, including a final one that was going to be a bastard of a climb.
Ow.
As it turned out, the hill was the least of my worries.
I got through the first two miles and met up with my team who gave me a fresh bottle of water and cheered me on. I told them I'd be fine and I'd meet them at the exchange.
Mile two found a ton of traffic light and running past a drainage ditch, but after cutting through a parking lot, mile three was Fiesta Bay. It was a warm, sunny day and everyone was out, rollerblading and riding bikes. I navigated through the crowd and gave wide berth to a couple of 10-11 year old boys on bikes. I'd guess I was about 10-15 feet in front of them when I heard them laughing and yelling and then an exclamation and a skid and as I felt the rush of air on my left side I tried to get out of the way. He only grazed me, but I tweaked my back in the process.
I slowed down my pace, realizing I was at the halfway point and I still had about three miles to go.I thought that was going to be the worst part of my race.
Again, I was wrong.
Here's something you may not know about me: I do not like running over freeways, even if they have tall fences to prevent you from going over. I don't know why. I've never fallen off a freeway overpass. I don't know anyone who's fallen over a freeway overpass. But it freaks the crap out of me.
As I navigated the cars entering and exiting the freeway, I realized I was not only going to have to go over an overpass, bu there was no fence. The only thing that separated me from the 5 down below was about as tall as my hip.
I tried not to look, moving straight ahead, but I didn't feel like I was getting enough air. So I took a deep breath. And a deeper breath. And a deeper one. I was gulping air and it wasn't enough. I was starting to get fuzzy around the edges.
I crossed and then realized about twenty feet later, there was another one.
My throat hurt and now those fuzzy edges were going black. Tears sprung to my eyes but since I was salty and dehydrated, I was now blind. There was a part deep in my lizard brain that told me that if I didn't keep moving forward, the thing that I feared the most (falling over onto the freeway) was most definitely going to happen.
I crossed the freeway and saw that I was at the bottom of my final, two-mile hill. I used the last of my water to flush my eyes. My throat was raw from trying to suck down air. I wondered if I should text Will, but I knew if I told him what had happened he'd insist on coming out and getting me. You're not allowed to run with a pacer during the daytime hours.
I decided as long as I was upright, I was going to finish.
I closed my eyes, calmed my breathing, and remembered that final hill at the Tough Mudder. It was just one foot in front of the other, all the way up.
I opened my eyes and started up the hill.
Runners passed me, one by one, each with a "good job" and "you got this." Another team was out there waiting for their runner to pass and saw that I was clearly in distress. They asked if they could help and I just said I needed to finish and each one high-fived me and promised me I would. A guy in a Tough Mudder shirt carrying an American flag gave me a thumbs-up. (Later, when turning in the flag we were issued by Ragnar staff, Will ran into the guy. He recognized Will's shirt and said he had seen one of Will's teammates in distress but committed to finishing and was she okay? Will said that was his wife, and she finished. This is why I love racing.)
I got to the last exchange and told Will I just needed five minutes and a cold towel. Afterwards, I celebrated with my crew. My Ragnar was 95% done.
Bikes and panic attacks and hills, oh my!
Will brought us home with the last 5+ miles, and we ran toward the finish as a team.
DONE.
It wasn't the race that I thought I would run. My guess is that it wasn't the race that many of my teamates thought they'd run. But I think the point of a race like Ragnar is that you give up that control. You deal with the task in front of you, and when you hit a roadblock, you solve those problems together.
Will, Tim, Shira, Brian, Zvia, our rockstar driver Desiree who took care of every single one of us and Elizabeth for being the best van decorator and mascot we could have ever asked for: thank you. Thanks to Eva for organizing the group, because wrangling a group of people to do anything is always a Herculean task.
After my final leg, Will said we were never doing this again. After a shower and a good night's sleep, we're figuring out when we can do our next one.
It's not a race for everyone. The physical and mental grind, the lack of sleep, being filthy and sore and trapped in a van with a bunch of people, even if they are your friends, is a challenge. I won't lie: it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But in life, the hardest things we do are usually affairs tinged with grief and sadness.
But in the past year, between Spartans and Tough Mudders and half-marathons and now the Ragnar Relay, the hardest thing I've ever done is a badge of honor.
Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take another shower.
This is a Thing that I Am Doing: The Ragnar SoCal Relay
Two vans.
Twelve people.
197 miles.
Tomorrow morning, I will hop in a van with five other runners and two support staff and head out to the second van exchange to be a part of the Southern California Ragnar Relay. Each runner will run three legs of the 26-leg race, which starts at 9:30am tomorrow and goes nonstop through the night until we cross the finish line in San Diego Saturday evening.
As the date loomed closer, I've been been filled with dread. Have a trained enough? What's it like running in the middle of the night? After no sleep? Why oh why is my last leg my hardest? Why am I choosing to be stuck in a van with five other sweaty people? What was I thinking?
You ran for like a straight hour last night. For a while, I was like, 'Yeah, look at her go! She's motivating me!' But then I was all, 'Uhh... I gotta go home. BYE.'
Next-Door-Cubicle-Neighbor on our co-work-out last night
I worked out with my next-door-cubicle-neighbor last night. He used to play soccer and runs a lot faster than I do. Also, he completed his entire workout before I even got to get off the treadmill. Did you know that they turn off at 60 minutes? No? Well. Good. Because no one should ever have to know that.
Ragnar So Cal Leg #2 Runner 4 - Temecula - Fallbrook
This second leg started in the late evening sometime in the 9-10 o'clock hour. I would be starting just outside Old Town Temecula. We had an estimated time for Robb B. to come in but I wanted to wait at the exchange because they had a holding area across the street and I didn't want to make him wait. I was relieved to see him and before I took off he tells me to take his flashlight as it helped in the dark. I was happy to have it. I got stuck at a few lights and finally made my way to Temecula Creek Inn Golf Resort and onto a golf cart path. It was kind of fun but between some heat of the day and the sprinklers going off it was quite humid. I then get off the path and run across grass to get to a trail. This was the scary part. Pitch black and no one ahead of me or behind. I focused on my music and gave it my best. It was quite hilly on the trail and hard to see. I then made it off the trail and back onto Old Hwy 395 and the rest was all downhill from there...well pretty much. It was still quite humid but the downhill was nice. I made it to the exchange and handed the baton off once again to Shannon.
I ran 6.7 miles in 1:21 minutes 12:12 pace I was hoping for a faster pace but the stop lights held me up a bit.
