In honor of the Canadians I have recently spent time with, I have spelled my title in accordance with their dysfunctional manner of pronunciation.
Before I could see the thrilling conclusion of the Ragnar, I was whisked away to my new location in the north to see several of my soldiers. I continued my childhood legacy of being able to sleep anywhere, resting my eyes in several terminals, an airplane, and a chopper. I was also able to make executive decisions for me and my assistant when details of the journey started to get funky and I had to help us get around without our normal assistance from people on the ground.
Before I left, the Ragnar was about two dozen miles from its conclusion. I am still not sure who won. I am sure of my pride in the runners who took part. After their first leg, our Indiana Guard runners (about ten people spread across four teams) were whisked away for a mission. That left each team, which had all already suffered a lost runner or two to injury or mission, with an additional 4-6 legs to fill. Only two of us planned on running 25+ miles. I imagine that number was more in the neighborhood of half a dozen. Several other runners who were planning on running about 12 miles ended up with something in the high teens.
The night was cold and bitter. A fog swept across the post, accompanied by an incredible amount of condensation that soaked everything. The darkness was penetrating at several points of the course, which made the increasingly chilled puddles an even more unavoidable and daunting obstacle. I saw one Canadian team captain, forced into ultra-type mileage, sitting upright in his chair at the start line, sleeping in a sleeping bag. I'm not sure he ever left that place during the night.
Most of our runners, thought fit, were utterly unprepared for this type of event. We expected that. We also expected that they would persevere, and we were not disappointed. Runners, old and slow, male and female, refused to walk at any point, even if they adopted a painful survivor-stride. You could see the pain on many a face, but they were willingly awoken from their bits of merciful sleep to get back out there and help carry their team to the finish. This is the mettle that you would expect from our soldiers. I will provide a bit more in individual bios later.
As for me, I gradually gutted out 27 painful miles, having done 3.5 miles of ruck running in addition earlier in the day. I bonked big time. After almost puking during my first six miles due to my large breakfast, I improved greatly over my next couple of short legs (5k at a 7 minute pace; 2.1 at a 7:30 pace; 5k at an 8 minute pace). At the end of the last short leg, I could feel my body start to sag under the week-long illness I had experienced just prior to the run. Several days of barely eating and extreme dehydration sapped whatever energy came with my returning health. I did a late night 8 mile leg, starting at an under 8 minute pace, but eventually climbing to 11. I was cold, sore, and miserable from the third lap on.
After I got through it, I hobbled over to our DFAC (dining facility) and downed a cup of hot chocolate and a cup of instant oatmeal. The sugar and heat helped, though they did little to improve my hydration. I caught an hour of sleep before being painfully awoken for my last four mile leg. I was utterly dehydrated at this point and was unable to sweat, though I was wearing a wool stocking cap. I crept along at about a 10 minute pace and was passed going into my last lap my an energetic-looking star basketball player from our post. I upped my pace into the 9's, knowing that this was my last hoorah. I kept the baller in my sights, keeping within about 50 yards of him, figuring he'd eventually shake me. In the home stretch (about 100 yards), I shook my legs out and sprinted with everything I had left. I beat him at the finish line (and he had run a shorter distance than me). In that closing stretch, I had hit a 5:30 pace, which was somewhat close to what I normally do at the close of races (usually hitting about 4:30 in the final sprint).
For the next half an hour, I weakly cheered on my teammate whenever she passed and encouraged our next runner--another star basketball player on post who joined our team the preceding week. A compassionate Canadian gave me his hefty sweatshirt to help me warm up. Without any more eating or drinking, I collapsed in bed and caught another two hours or so of sleep before getting up to leave for the north. More on my experience here to follow...
