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In August, I ran in the Spokane to Sandpoint relay race. 12 women all agreed to run 3 legs of a race over about 30 hours. (At least for us. One team ran it in under 24 hours, but that’s just insane. And I bet they didn’t stop at Old Navy in Spokane and find an incredible sale.)
My friend Joanna asked me to do it and lately I’ve been saying yes to all sorts of activities without thinking how I’m meant to be on my couch reading. I’d agreed before my biking accident, but my surgeon had said I could do whatever I wanted 3 weeks after the surgery. (LIES, by the way.) So I said I could still do it because I would have about 6 weeks to train. They reduced my legs to the bare minimum and I think I was going to run about 10 miles total. Really stupid still, but more doable.
There are 6 to a van/suburban and you trade a slap bracelet. So you pretty much spend a whole day psyching yourself up to run. And then you run but you aren’t finished so there is no sense of accomplishment until the end of the 3rd leg.
I think relays were developed as a sort of torture during the French and Indian War.
It’s really hard to psych yourself up after 6 hours of inactivity. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t so I watched Mission Impossible 4 to see if I could tell myself if I don’t run, someone would kill me, but that only works the 1st time. And then you know it’s not true.
But I did it. I ran at night along a river that needs more lights because I’d just been telling myself someone was going to try and kill me and as I was leaving the transition, a teammate mentioned how she was glad she wasn’t running this leg because ANYONE could jump out.
And I switched my final leg so I ended up running an extra mile. I listened to Eye of the Tiger 4x to keep me going, but when the last .25 mile was straight up, I walked and swore this was the one and only time I’d ever do a relay because they are stupid and I now know 5 other women way more than I should.
But a couple day later, I found myself talking to Joanna about the race and the phrase, “Next year, I’d…” came out of my mouth.
Seriously… when you turn 40,50,60 JUST BUY A CONVERTIBLE.