The Wasatch Crack Relay is NOT a show-up-at-the-spur-of-the-moment kind of race. One must prepare a year in advance by coughing up $1200 for your team to participate.
After you’ve given the establishment your piece of the $900,000 pie, you run. If you have one of those hillbilly stages (which few get to escape), you run hills. I have a friend named Hillene. She likes hills, that's why we call her Hillene. We’ve been running this behemoth of a hill called Suncrest (in Highland, Utah). This Suncrest doozy is 5 miles up and climbs 1500 feet. Hillene likes to run so hard she pukes. Not me. I don’t puke – for I foam at the mouth.
Foaming at the mouth and puking are not becoming.
Each team who participates must find 3 volunteers, come up with a name, commiserate over t-shirts, have them printed, pick who runs which stages and find vehicles to trash. It goes on and on. Logistically it’s a big fat pain.
One week before the race, our team does a Friday run, Friday midnight run then a run at 5:30 the next morning. This is to practice and/or prepare for running without sleep. The midnight run is scary - it’s dark and the canyons are filled with bats and Zoobies around campfires. (Zoobies are what the locals call the college kids at the BYU). Someone usually runs ahead and jumps out screaming and someone usually wets their pants. It’s not me, however – for I foam at the mouth.
Foaming at the mouth and wetting the pants are not becoming.
By the time all of the above has been completed, I start to complain with “I’m never doing this again” and “this is too much work” and “those Ragnar people are making bank over this enterprise.” Then I quit complaining – for I foam at the mouth.
Foaming at the mouth and complaining are not becoming.
I’ve completed the Wasatch Crack Relay twice now. Each of those years, the Ragnar folks send all participants an e-mail that says, “We want to hear your story! Send us your story and you could win something special!” (Like a box of Wheaties with your picture taped to it).
Both years, I’ve given serious thought to sending them a story. I take notes, make brainstorming charts (complete with snide remarks), and type myself up a real nice outline. Then reality hits and I relinquish my efforts. I don’t have a gut-wrenching story that divulges how running saved me from an alpaca addiction or how our team is completing the race in honor of Operation Save Darth Vader. I don’t do charity when it comes to running - for I foam at the mouth.
Foaming at the mouth, running and charity are not becoming.
On Thursday night (T minus 24 hours), the Crack-o-Dawners meet to temporarily vandalize our vehicles and discuss details. Details like what time to leave, what to eat, who’s bringing what and how fast (or slow) each runner plans to complete their assigned legs. Vandalizing and discussing are something I do do - for I foam at the mouth.
Foaming, vandalizing vehicles and discussing details are becoming. (Or at least they’re on the road to becoming something…)
Trailtrekker and rabidrunner
Hillene and Downhill Diva
Facebook pose complete with photographer's shadow.
A minor glimpse of the antics to come.
Ever Supportive Spouse