The whole team went to the starting line. Kirsten, our team leader, got interviewed and explained the team name Running from Badgers. She confessed her phobia of meeting up with wild animals in the dark on a long, lonely nighttime leg. She had heard that last year a woman had actually been chased under just such circumstances by a badger. Who even knew Oregon had badgers, but then I just learned in the last year, after living in Oregon practically my whole life, that we have moose too, or as the old question asks, is the plural meese? Thus, our name—Running from Badgers—and our inspiration to run fast, especially at night. Lots of people after seeing our name would ask if we were from Wisconsin, showing that badgers may be more closely associated with that state. I think it was at some store along the route, Kirsten was asked once again by a woman, who was not running in the relay, how we chose our name. Kirsten explained about the woman who was chased last year by a badger, after having rehearsed her story several times before because of how often she’s been asked about it. Then, surprise of surprises, the woman says, “I am that woman. That was me. That thing came out of nowhere, and I turned around and ran the wrong way for awhile with that thing right behind me on my tail. Then I quickly looped around and started running the right way again and left that bad badger behind.”
As I looked around at the competitors, I noticed again how predominantly young the crowd looked. I’m used to seeing mostly younger people at races, but the youth factor here was really disproportionate. Aww, to be young and foolish again. So I thought, what is this 60-year-old fool doing here? Am I such an old fool that I can’t even make a reasonable decision anymore, and am I making a huge mistake to think I am up to the challenge of running three seven-mile runs over the course of two days and a night, while basically resting in the discomfort of a straight-backed seat in a crowded, sweat-stinky van? Will someone please take over power of attorney for me, and make my decisions for me? Maybe I’m going to die!
It was the night before when I first noticed that it didn’t look like there were going to be that many runners over the age of 60. In fact, I had noticed two things as we signed in, decorated our vans, and had our dinner and an SOB brewski (for anyone who doesn’t know that’s Polish for beer—our teammate Danuta must know this because she’s from Poland, which by the way makes us an international team). For some reason everybody was getting hit by mosquitoes, except me. I’d get an occasional strike, but the others were being swarmed by dark, gray clouds of bombarding mosquitoes. So I’m like what? Am I so old and nasty that even the mosquitoes don’t find me attractive? I was so embarrassed about this that I lamely remarked to one of my younger teammates, as her beautiful body is getting bombarded by an incoming fleet of mosquitoes, that perhaps I had eaten something lately that kept the mosquitoes away. She replied, “I wish I knew what that was, because I want to eat some of that.” That didn’t make me feel any better. I know it sounds weird, but I was jealous because everybody was getting bitten but me.
So after a photo shoot at the starting line, where I self-consciously tried to hide my rejected-by-mosquitoes body towards the side and in the back of the group and behind my coffee cup, Shana was off, running the first leg of the relay for the team Running from Badgers. My van mates and I loaded into the vans. Connor was the driver with his girlfriend Kristi as co-pilot. Sheri had a seat to herself while Shana ran, Sheri preparing to run the second leg, 10 miles of two miles downhill and then 8 miles up, up, and what must have been miserably up. And I sat next to Shelley and sadly bemoaned the contrast of her youthful body compared to mine.
(To be continued)
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