Find Your Inner Wild

My Hood to Coast team will not be running from Mt. Hood to Seaside this upcoming year and has instead decided to run a different relay race for 2017: Ragnar Trail Rainier. I am both wicked excited and slightly terrified of this change.

Here's the part where I admit to being a total chicken: I have been afraid of the dark my entire life. Now, as an adult, I'd like to say that fear has lessened, but I'd be lying. The fact is, it scares me. Period. One of the best and worst parts of running a 24-hour relay race is that we have to run solo through the night.

I was Runner #2 for Hood to Coast this year, and each of my legs were roughly six miles. The first six miles were straight down the mountain. It was morning, but the heat was intense. I remember my quads feeling like they were going to explode near mile three and running out of water half a mile from the exchange point. After powering through the last stretch of downhill, I relaxed in the van playing the role of navigator and jumped out at each exchange to bring water to my incoming team members and cheer for each next runner at the start of their leg.

Excitedly waiting for our team captain to start the race. #HoneyBucketSelfie

Several hours later, I geared up in my reflective vest and headlamp and ventured out for six more miles in the dark, all mostly a steady low-grade uphill. It was brutal. The only things that made the dark okay were the stream of vehicles with lights at my back and tons of other runners suffering along with me. The third leg I ran was through gentle mountainous rolling hills boasting views of peaceful farmland. Saying hi to the cows grazing in the fields and breathing in the blissful fresh air through moments of fog while my legs screamed filled me with a sense of nearly delusional well-being and serenity. It was a crisp early morning, and I was exhausted to the point of hysterical laughter but somehow managed to jump over two snakes in the middle of the road, run up a steep mile-long hill toward the end, and fly to the exchange knowing that I was finally done running. Though my slowest run, it was my favorite leg of the race.

Portland at sunset, shortly before running my second leg.

So why did I say that running through the night is somehow a good thing? I like that I voluntarily did something that scares me. In fact, running Hood to Coast scared me in general. I was worried that I was not a strong enough runner, that my times wouldn't be fast enough, and that my awkward self was going to have difficulty socializing with the much cooler and more experienced runners of my van. None of those fears were validated; in fact, it was the opposite experience. I ran much stronger than I thought I could, and my times were just as solid as everyone else's. To top it off, my teammates were just as quirky as I am. I had a wonderful time and instantly felt like my van members were the "solemates" I was always meant to have.

Hood to Coast Post-Race "Solemates"

My Well-Deserved Medal

I'm not afraid of running on roads with other people in the dark, but I am terrified being in the middle of a forest at night, with or without others. For the Ragnar Trail race, I will be running 16.1 miles split into three different legs through the trails of Crystal Mountain. One of those legs will likely be in the middle of the night. Yesterday, I sent an email to my team captain begging to run the shortest of the three trails during my night shift, to which I'm sure he rolled his eyes but will hopefully be persuaded.

Despite the pending doom of running through a forest in the middle of the night where I will surely become meal to a large freaking cat, bear, and dragon, I am elated to know that I am already signed up and have paid for another relay race. In the meantime, I will be spending the next several months doing the dreaded Iron Strength Workout for Runners, running through trails (yes, even at night), and learning how to use a ninja sword to fight the jackelopes that are already planning to chase me.

If you're signed up for that race, I'll be the one sprinting with a machete and bear mace blasting gangsta' rap from a bluetooth speaker wearing INKnBURN everything, and screaming at every tiny leaf that rustles in the wind during the night as I attempt to Find My Inner Wild.