Ragnar was never about running for me. It was a continuation of my step-outside-the-box goal that has developed this year. Spending 3 days with a group of people who I first met via the internet? WAAAAAAAAAY out of character. I’m a born and raised Seattleite. We say things like “we should get together soon!” but we really mean “I don’t hate you and if we happen to run into each other again, I won’t pretend to not remember you”. The Land of Lip Service, all the way.
We average 200 days of cloud cover a year. It’s like having a giant blanket pulled across the sky. It makes you feel like you have to go home and watch a movie as soon as your day is over. I’m also a bit scatterbrained of late. I hate that. With those powers combined, follow-through is not my strongest trait. (I stand a better chance if I write things down, but remembering the paper is harder than it seems.)
This was a big follow through for me. There was something that I thought looked awesome and I wanted to do it. I made some (admittedly) half-assed attempts to put together teams in years past but it didn’t pan out for various reasons. The stress (self-induced, entirely) of trying to put this together was a little crazy. I did let some Ragnar things slide while I tried desperately to keep my head above water through those last two quarters at school (I did okay- not as well as I wanted, but magna cum laude isn’t so bad. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that it wasn’t summa instead, but too late to do anything about it now.)
I knew the miles would hurt, since up to this point my longest runs have (only) been of the half marathon distance. I did expect the hurt to be different, though. I was sure it would be my IT bands that would hobble me rather than blisters. My socks claim to wick, but either they lie or I was sweating a lot more than I usually do (very possible because it was warmer than my preferred running temps). I quit counting blisters after 6 or so.
I have the post race blues pretty strong today. I miss my team. I miss leapfrogging runners on rural highways in Washington, honking and hollering. I miss having to launch myself in the van, because yes, I am that short. I miss the stories and the laughing and the (very gentle) teasing. I miss the high fives from stranger-runners on the road. I miss the wide-eyed “you crazy!” faces people made upon learning we were an ultra team. Sometimes I put the metal on, but it’s sort of awkward to wear. Right now it is zipped in the center pocket of my purse alongside my Fitbloggin’ name tag. File under: things Sharla can’t let go of.
We’re going camping this weekend (supposedly leaving tonight so as to have a mostly child chatter-free drive). I really don’t want to. But I guess it will give me something to think about other than how I wish it was still Ragnar. I’m packing my trail shoes and I’m going to drag my husband on a run. And there will be at least one barefoot run on the only sandy beach on the northern Washington coast. I’m considering a 5 mile trail race next weekend. I’ve got my eye on a trail half in November. Daydreaming about spring races already.