Mosquito Send-off

On Friday the first, as the sun set and our team was ready to start our next section of the relay, we had to say goodbye to our new friends we had met at Silver Lake-the mosquitoes. We were waiting for the Silver Fox to run in and send EK off into the sunset, then they came out of no where. The swarming mass seemed to enjoy the fact that we had put repellent on, as they were on a different kind of sports adventure. We swatted at the bugs on each other, as we stood waiting at the exchange. We gave a short congratulations to the Silver Fox, who was then quickly surrounded by his adoring mosquito fans. 

So began the darkness.

We followed our runners with the van lights on, often leap frogging ahead or following directly behind so the runner could see what was in the road. Each of the runners faced a rutted, dusty road, and altogether ran about thirty-six miles in the dark.

 The van ride was interesting as EK began her run at my normal bedtime. She was first, and I was to run last. This is where our conversations became, less lucid and more "interesting?" I spent most of this time in the back of the van, attempting to sleep when I wasn't being used as ottoman. 

I wasn't quite conscious enough before the exchange, in that I realized needed to use the powder room  to freshen up right before it was my turn to run. The driver quickly drove me ahead, but our bionic runner made it to the exchange just as I had put on my lip gloss. So I hurried to meet her and out of the light of the giant spotlights into the dark. I quickly realized that I had left my headlamp in the van. I paused for a moment, but new that the ladies would follow shortly after. 

As I began my route on pavement near the Paulina Mountains, all that I could see were the lane lines and the stars above the tree line. 

One step after the other I began a gradual uphill, yet my teammates hadn't followed with the light. I ran a bit faster than normal those first five minutes. I also had a great time of reflection, in that, I had to trust whatever was my story in the road ahead. Was it a pothole? A mountain lion or other wild animal that would end my life's journey? 

I looked at the stars so far away, yet was comforted by knowing that whatever my "fate" on the run, I had to trust the Maker of those stars.

The ladies in the van did catch up to me, and so did the Hulagans. I didn't understand why their van was out there, as they didn't have a runner in sight. At one point their van pulled up ahead, seeming to wait for their runner, but as I passed, they cheered. I said thank you. Then I saw a different kind of moon.

I was taken aback by this tomfoolery, so much so I lost a bit of focus, reminding myself that I should try and find the humor of the situation rather than having my sensibilities offended. 

Shortly after this incident, my van checked in with me, and then said a Hulagan was behind me-fifteen yards. Before I knew it, she passed me going uphill. It seemed I never recovered from that non-celestial greeting. 

Thru Travel Not Advised

Here's my new Canadian friend before she headed down this very long, hot and dusty road. She ran almost nine miles on this road, whereas I ran a little over the last five it. 

I estimate that she ran during the time of the "Great Badger Showdown." A woman from the Hulagans said a badger chased her down the road. She said that she came down with heat stroke not long after. Must have been the stress of the wildlife encounter. She should have taken a picture of herself.

The story of the chase down is rumored to be so enthralling that a person using a port-a-potty while the woman shared her story right outside the potty, chose to sit and listen to said story rather than exit. People clearly don't get out in the woods enough. 

On this run is where my handy-dandy waist belt came in handy, as I used my water spritzer on this run. At first the sprayer was quite handy, but as I became hotter, all the spritzing I did just made me have to, well, it gave me the "Gotta go right now" urgency. I stopped spritzing and took care of nature's call before the officials' cars came by.
I did receive an encouraging, "Only one mile to go!" from an official gal who was inside her air conditioned Audi. Easy for her to say. The official guy in the other car reminded me of those sweepers when I did the Nike run-good looking guys pointing the old lady the way to the end. He asked, "You alright?" Of course I huffed, "Yes." I didn't ask, "Would you be alright if you were out here?"

I ran leg six, finishing the run at the 85 degree mark. My experience was that the farther I ran up the road, the less the trees attempted to provide shade. I saw no mirages, but I was happy to have done the training I did on those very hot days in Eugene. I felt this training helped me know I could handle the heat. I hadn't trained on such a running surface, but I kept my slow but steady pace. I did wear my Garmin watch, and it said that I ran hundreds of miles. I forgot to turn it off at the end of my run. So, I couldn't tell my pace and I couldn't tell if the elevation slowed me down.

I would like to say I enjoyed the beauty of this particular leg, but I just recognized that it was hot and I needed to put one foot in front of the other.  I did appreciate my peeps with the water and woo-hoos, and for fixing my iPod when I floundered with it at the start of my run.  

Here is the team at the Silver Lake rest area. I tried to sleep but became enthralled with a couple that were singing in the park. I love bluegrass, old time country, and folk music. Although my teammates may have found them annoying while they were trying to sleep, I loved the interruption.

Matt and Rachel Wilson of Silver Lake Oregon

So It Began

This photo doesn't look like much to the non-participant's eye, but this photo has race historic significance. These people aren't just standing around.  This was the beginning of the race, and the beginning of the friendly rivalry amongst these three teams.  This is a photo of our team along with the Sea Monkeys and the Hulagans. The Sea Monkeys have just attached their precious mascot to their car. Notice that our blond friend seems to be mesmerized by the monkey. More later on the significance of the photo...

So at the end of the first leg of the race, a new friend and I were bonding by the information kiosk, while my old buddy EK was kickin' it in up mountain. EK took on quite a bit of mileage this race, and did wonderfully. We had a great time in the van together, and she only made me spew out my water once while I was in a post race delirium. 

And So the Story of Van One, Leg Six Begins...

 The adventure of the Cascade Lakes Relay started the evening of Thursday July31st. Our welcoming sign at the Ray's in LaPine Oregon confirmed that this event was really happening. If I recall correctly, this is where we called ourselves, "Sports Adventurers." Perhaps this gave us a reason why we had uprooted ourselves from our home and families.  

The story goes something like this...

After picking up one of our runners in Black Butte, we ate our first meal together in Sisters at Martolli's Pizza. The ladies of "True Grit Natives" then met up with the men of our team as we spent the night in cabins on Lemolo Lake. 

Our team's start time was at 8:30A, needing to be there an hour before the start for "check-in," leaving us with a wake-up time of 6:00AM. Not too early of a time, if it weren't for not sleeping well the night before. When I did sleep, my anxiety about the race and fear of injury lead me to dream, or think that I was going into renal failure. Although this condition would have rendered me unable to compete in the relay, I had to convince myself it was only a dream. 

Nancy's Sleeping

It was a week ago that I set off to compete in the Cascade Lakes Relay. Time flys. I will post about the race, but for now I'm catching up. It seems like I spend time either catching up, or moving on...I'm on Orcas Island right now, and only a few spots have wireless internet. This is the first day I have attempted to write a post so here goes...

A few other runners and myself drove back from Bend on Saturday evening, still exhausted from the race. We ended up having the Canadian contingent of the team stay over at our house. I wasn't able to be as hospitable as I would like, as we were to leave for Washington bright and early on Sunday.

 The third of August, our family headed north to Orcas Island, Washington to vacation with friends for a week of respite on the water. During our travel north, I was rather short with my family, and out of sorts when we left home, as our goal was to catch the 2:45PM ferry to Orcas Island. I let our Canadian friends know they could stay as long as they liked. I think I actually gave them our house. 

I slept, and grumped all the way north, making it to the ferry, as we were one of the last cars on board. We met up with our friends, and I had to make the transition between exhausted sports adventurer to "Travelin' Nan."

I spent the first couple of days at Orcas eating and sleeping. If I remember Monday at all, it went something like: Sleep in. Eat. Take a nap. Eat. Go to bed. Not a great vacation companion, but I did start waking up on Tuesday.

The joke around the house was a quote from our friend Silas, "Nancy's sleeping. Nancy's sleeping like tractor at Fernwood School."