Last summer I wrote
about my experience running the 2011 Cascade Lakes Relay. I’ve felt bad ever since knowing that I never
finished my story, especially with only this one chapter to go, and all the while
the details are slipping away, but it had been time to go back to my teaching
job (and that keeps me pretty busy), and I just wasn’t ready yet to feel any
closure to these chapters of the run. I
was conflicted. How could I conclude
this story when there were certain conclusions I had not even been able to
reach myself: Would I ever want to do this again, or should I strike it off as
completed from something some people call a bucket list?
As I wearily sat in
the van, I felt nothing at first. I knew
everyone was around me, and yet I seemed unaware of them as people I was connected
to. Our route to the finish in Bend
followed the route of the run. We passed
Tiffany. We passed Jesse a few times,
and illegally gave him some support, even though he was not part of our
van. Little by little as I rested, my
elation increased. But then we passed
Jesse again. He was running up hill,
strong and smiling. He had actually
climbed in elevation so much that there were patches of snow on the side of the
road. In August! He was cresting into the snow zone! I thought of how I felt, drained and a bit
dejected, and I looked at Jesse with that smile, running happily—uphill—and for
a moment I felt like asking Kristi to stop the van, so I could get out and
punch Jesse in the face, right in that smile.
But then I started thinking.
Yeah, I have felt that before, the joy of running. Not at the moment maybe and right now it’s
hard to remember that time, but I know that feeling, and I’m sure I will
again. I started to feel really happy
that I was done. I had completed
something which was really challenging for me.
That’s called an accomplishment.
I was so glad to be done, I thought, thank you, Kirsten, for putting me
in Van 1. I laughed at myself thinking
how just hours before, during a low point, I had hated Kirsten, thinking she
had given me and my van mates the harder job.
Now I loved Kirsten, with all my heart.
Of course, there was still enough of the residual resentment that I was
glad Van 2 was still running at the peak of the heat of the afternoon, and even
though it’s kind of sick of me to think that, I did. What an experience this was! What a rollercoaster of emotions, from low to
high and everything in between, and then back again. A challenge!
Completed! I felt contentment
with a bit of elation rushing in. Wow! And I do love Kirsten Bartlett. I’m so glad to be done. There’s a beer and barbecue waiting for me
somewhere at the finish line, and I’m happy with that.
We made a stop at
Elk Lake, so blue and lined with forest.
Shana got out of the car. Man,
she looked like she was in a hurry. She
ran down to the lake, to the end of a dock, and dove in. That’s my free-spirited friend for you. Before I get into any kind of body of water,
I think about it, I ponder some more, I put my toe in to test the temperature,
and then I usually think, OK, where’s the hot tub? Once in a while I’ll decide to wade in
slowly. Very rarely will I put my head
into the water. Today I had no interest
in that. I was interested in finding
some coffee though.
I went to the lodge
and found the café. When I asked for
coffee, they said they were done serving coffee for the day, but they had some
left from the morning that they would give me and not charge me. It was lukewarm and nasty tasting, but it was
caffeine, and it was free. I was
beginning to feel this overwhelming sense of contentment. I was beginning to look forward. After staying that night at Seventh Mountain
with Jean, Tiffany, and Danuta, and having dinner with them and the Bartletts, I
would be joining my family the next day for a little much-needed R&R for a
couple of days at Eagle Crest. The
coffee was bad, but life is good.
When we got back
into the van, we realized that through a mix-up involving Shana, Connor, and
Kristi, that Kristi’s new, expensive camera had been left unattended and had
been stolen. It had all the pictures
from the relay. It had all the pictures
she had taken with it, including a wedding she had attended. It was so new she had not even downloaded
them to a computer yet. The camera was
gone, and all the photos on it were gone, too, forever. Still feeling emotionally fragile, I just
felt sick. What is wrong with the human
race? We should be helping each other out,
not ripping each other off. That’s the
job of corporate America. At least we the
people could look out for one another. And
now I would brood about this for the rest of the car ride to Bend. And, of course, I did.
When we got to
Bend, everyone scattered. I knew Shelley
went to take a shower because she’s clean like that. I didn’t know where anybody else went, so I
wandered around the finish line aimlessly, all by myself. I had placed an order of a barbecued pulled
brisket sandwich from Hole in the Wall, so I knew that was waiting for me. And I’d felt like I’d been waiting a lifetime
for a pint of beer. When I wandered over
to the food area, I ran into Sheri’s husband Chris who had not been able to
connect with Sheri yet. I knew Sheri was
somewhere with pain, dragging her foot in a sideways motion. Chris is in a wheelchair. So I decided now I had a purpose. My mission: to find Sheri and bring her to
her husband. So I wandered off
again. This time with a purpose. Near the finish line I ran into Jennifer, a
runner I ran with once on the McKenzie River Trail. I sat down on the lawn and talked with her
for a while. I don’t remember what we
talked about, but I remember thinking what a pleasant, nice person she is. She puts me so at ease that I could
comfortably tell her all of my most intimate secrets, if I could think of any,
and I’m glad I couldn’t, because, of course, that would be weird, but that’s
how she makes you feel. I got up to go
tell Chris I didn’t find Sheri. Of
course, Sheri was there, with Chris.
I went and got my
beef brisket sandwich that I had pre-ordered from Hole in the Wall and a pint
of Cascade Lakes IPA. I sat down in the
sun at a white, plastic picnic table with Chris, Sheri, and Shana, ate my
dinner, and drank my beer. I felt quiet,
both inside and out.
Then the whole team
gathered at the finish line, joined Caitlin, our last runner, even Sheri was
talked into dragging her new sideways leg, and then it was forward on to the finish
as a team. We got our t-shirts, which I
really love, by the way: one of my all-time
favorite running shirts. Then we said
farewell to each other, sadly happy, and then we all went our own ways to
return to our real lives.
I was left
wondering if I would ever want to run the Cascade Lakes Relay again. The running was hard enough, but what really
got to me, and I think it’s an age thing, was the car ride and the lack of
sleep over this extended period of time.
Those were hard on me. When I was
younger, like almost all the other runners, I would have been fine with this. But it was really hard, now that I’m over
sixty. But what would I do if Running
from Badgers asked me to join them again for the 2012 relay? Would my sense of loyalty to my teammates
trump whatever rational decision I might come to during the coming months
before next year? Fortunately, as soon
as October, I heard the news: Running
from Badgers was going to metamorphose, opening its wings to become an
ultra-marathon team, meaning the team would only need half the people, meaning I
would not be needed. Only for a fleeting
moment did I feel a hurt, and then I felt myself open up to this overwhelming
feeling of complete relief. I could stop
pondering this conundrum. The decision
was made for me. I was free. It felt so good to be relieved of this
pressure that I realized my decision would have been and should have been to
never run this thing again. I enjoyed the experience, a lot really, but
as it would turn out, once was enough.
This year as I saw many people I know and care about heading off to run the 2012 Cascade Lakes Relay, I wanted to wish them luck, and to tell any newbies that it will be an experience of a lifetime, one I would recommend to other runners. But for me last year’s 2011 Cascade Lakes Relay, participating with the Running from Badgers team, was one of my experiences of a lifetime, and I’m ready to leave it at that, to just leave it at that.
The End
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