Sarah Too

Well, hello there!! Here it is, a few days after completing the Ragnar Relay -- Florida Edition, and I can say confidently that I would do it all again. It was, in two words, freaking amazing! I'll do my best to capture the highlights of how it all went down, at least from the perspective of Van 1...Hold on to your hats, kids!

Friday, November 20

7 AM
Here it is: game time. At Daphne's house, members of Van 1 for Twisted Blister fuel up with bacon, egg, and cheese bagel sandwiches. I don't know if it is the hour of the day, but damn, these sammies taste something wonderful. As does the coffee. Already I am diggin' our support crewmember, Erik, for firing up the oven and getting these sammies started.

8 AM
We're on the road to the start of the relay in Tarpon Springs, FL, which is about an hour north of St. Pete. Don't Nicole and I look so happy?

Maybe we only look happy because of Jake's entertaining reading of the race rules from the race bible, or maybe it's just the sight of Erik's driving outfit...

9 AM
We arrive at Fred H. Howard Park in Tarpon Springs, just as the first runners of the 9 AM start time teams take off. We're feelin' jumpy and excited as we pile out of the van and wait for the arrival of the rest of Team Twisted Blister. When they arrive, our team gets checked in, receives our runner and van numbers (we're team #38). And I get to work on decorating Van 2:


Minutes to 10 AM
Before our first runner hits Leg 1, we take a moment to capture all of Team Twister Blister -- fresh, awake, and feelin' lively.

Team Twisted Blister
Back row: Scott, Jake, Bryan, Brian, Mike, and Duffy.
Front row: Nicole, Sara, Daphne, moi, Meredith, and Britt.

Moments after this shot, Sara headed up to the start line for last minute instructions from the Race Staff ("No pooping along the course. Ever."), then started Leg 1 of our 36-legs long relay. Whoa, Nelly. This sh*t has really started, and goes a little something like this:

Our van follows each of our runners, usually stopping at the midway point of each leg to check on the runner and provide water, if needed. This day started out slightly overcast, but the clouds have burned off. While there is a slight breeze in the air, it is still a rather warm day, especially with the sun directly on you. Over the course of 6 legs (with me being Runner #4), we wind our way inland from Tarpon Springs. I ran my first leg of 5.8 miles at about a 10 min/mile clip, and considering my lack of running up until this day, I feel very good about that pace. I hope it holds up. At Exchange #6, we hand the baton, which is a slap bracelet (FOR REAL), to Van 2.

At Exchange #6, Van 1 realizes that we're pretty close to Nicole and Jake's house, and that we have quite a bit of time to burn while Van 2 is doin' their thang for Team Twisted Blister. So, we roll on over their house for showers, pizza, and a movie. Seriously. It feels fantastic to rinse off the grime, and catch some rest. We're only 1/3 of the way there, folks.

8-ish PM
Van 1 joins Van 2 at Exchange #12. It is d-a-r-k, yo. In the back roads of Central-ish Florida. We're at a teeny tiny state park, a gabillion vans and vehicles are jammed all up along the access road, and there are S'mores.

[Side note: there is no way anyone would lose any pounds on this relay because we seriously ate almost the whole time we were not running. Unless you're one of those freaks that decides the Ultra Running version of this relay would be more fun (i.e., 6-man teams, versus 12-man teams like us, and DOUBLE the total mileage), you're not going to have trouble keeping up with the calories you burn.]

9-ish PM
It's time for Van 1 to start their night runs. Better have the safety gear on...

Headlamps, blinking butt lights, and safety vests are required on all persons not in the van at night. Fortunately, we are allowed to have a cyclist alongside our runners at night, so I was not alone when I ran my 5.1 miles along backwoods county routes with tractor trailer trucks zooming by at 55+ mph. One real peach of a driver felt it was necessary to pass on the left AT A RUNNER EXCHANGE POINT as a relay van slowed to pull over and off the road. Yeah, we love your redneck pickup truck, too, ya prick. Sorry, I'm still a little miffed about that one.

Saturday, November 21
12 AM
I finish my leg in about 51 minutes, staying on track with my earlier pace. Once I get back in the van, I pretty much couch out. I am tired and I have little energy, so I drift in and out of consciousness, and I don't think I ever really fall asleep during the night. I do remember hearing about Nicole's tumble over the rumble strips of a bridge during her run. She escaped with a some scratched up palms, a big bruise on her knee, and maybe a little wounded pride, but it was dark out there, man. As Jake would say repeatedly, "It's hell out there! You see it out there? It is HELL."

2 AM
Britt, the last runner for our van, finished her leg, and we're 2/3 of the way done with Ragnar 2009. I, by the way, am still in my sweaty, smelly, running clothes and am passed out on my van bench. Erik and Tim, our second driver, take us to Exchange #18 where there is open space outside to lay down a tarp and catch some zzzzz-s before Van 2 finishes their legs. Too bad the park sprinklers are running, there is a high dew point, and there are roosters crowing in the background. Good thing I am still in the van, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position underneath my bathrobe, which is acting as a blanket.

6:30 AM
Rise and shine Van 1!!! It is time to get moving and get running! I know you're all bright-eyed AND bushy-tailed...



The sun is rising, and Van 2 had some adventures in the night. A runner got off course during one of the legs, and there was some backtracking to get back to the relay course. The last runner in the van, Mike, ran at "dog speed" through Cracktown during his leg, leaving his safety biker in the dust. The beach cruiser we used had a couple of broken spokes already, and Brian had to fix a broken chain in Cracktown before rolling into Exchange #18 about 5-10 minutes behind Mike, after Mike already handed off the baton to Sara. Brian and Mike tell us all about it...


Because we didn't see Van 2 roll into the exchange point before Mike, the race volunteer had to shout our team number several times before we realized Mike arrived and was ready to hand off the baton. Sara sprinted to the exchange point and took off on her leg. Fortunately there was enough sunlight that safety gear was no longer required on the course.

7:30 AM
Bacon, egg, and cheese time at Dunkin' Donuts!! Oh, heavenly coffee, too!!


10 AM
For Van 1, these are our final legs of the Ragnar. It is motivation enough to know that once I finish my leg, I am done for the rest of the weekend! I am so excited that my last leg is short, too -- only 2.7 miles. I set a goal of finishing it in 25 minutes. Tooooo bad I catch EVERY red light at the HUGE intersections of traffic I have to cross, which adds an extra 3 or so minutes to my time. I finish strong, though, and I think I could have run even more mileage.


12 PM
Exchange #30. Van 1 is D-O-N-E. Britt brought it home, and Brian took off with the baton. Van 2 will bring us to the finish line in Daytona. Let's review the damage...

Daphne's blistered heel.

My blistered toes.

A stop at McDonald's and a mini-mart for beer give us our post-race rewards. And also put the runners to sleep on the way to Daytona.

2 PM
Checked-in to our hotel rooms, showered, and on our (at least) 2nd beer. Van 2 is still truckin' toward the finish line, while we survey the scene.

4:30 PM
Jacob's 5-man Ultra team crosses the finish line. This amazing team was a man short and started an hour later than Team Twisted Blister. They ran continuously through the night, with barely a blink of shut-eye for any of them. In a total time of 26 hours, 38 minutes, and 48 seconds, their team finished in 19th place overall, out of a field of 105. I'm so proud to see them finish SO strong!

Team Off Constantly
Tim, Erin, Jacob, Pat, and Loren

Notice the awesome race medals -- bottle opener included!!

6:30 PM

All of us join Mike, the final runner for Team Twisted Blister, to run with him across the finish line. Team Twisted Blister finished in 53rd place with a time of 32 hours, 7 minutes, 52 seconds. Amazing!!


That was pretty much the end of our night. I caught up with Jacob and his team, to hear how their experience went, and to give an account of our adventures across the state. On Sunday, everyone headed home.

Final Notes
I had an amazing time with my team during this relay, especially my van-mates. We had fun and cheered each other along to the finish. I very much liked the team aspect of this race, and I would love it if this were not my last relay. And to put a cherry on top of it all, Team Twisted Blister reached and EXCEEDED our fundraising goal of $2,000 for The Kenya Education Fund. With your help, we completely funded one student's 4-year education. Thank you to everyone for your support and generous donations! Team Twisted Blister really could not achieved anything without all of you.

Labels: friends, my life, running | 0 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook |

Labels: friends, my life, running | 0 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook |

Labels: friends, my life | 0 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook |

Sometimes, I have the best job in the world. Because the fall U.S. Coral Task Force Meeting is always in one of the jurisdictions (i.e., NOT D.C.), I was in Puerto Rico last week. To me, attending this meeting is always a double-edged sword -- I get to go on an all-expense-paid trip to an exotic locale, buuuut I have to listen to the same sh*t, different day. Basically, it's two days of people telling the Fed, State, and Territorial officials what we all already know. Corals are dying. Yep, you heard it here. AND EVERYWHERE. It boils down to humans misusing our available natural resources. We overfish the fish, which turns the ecosystem topsy turvy, upsetting the balance. We strip the land for strip malls, farms, and condos, which sends more sediments and contaminants into the watershed and into the ocean. We crash our boats into the reefs and pulverize the habitat. The problem is US. And lack of funding. And cooperation. And not putting words and lip service INTO ACTION.

So this time, I was in San Juan. I never see anything other than San Juan. My third time to the island, and I only saw the Caribe Hilton. I would have seen more if I didn't pop over to St. Croix between workshops and the business meeting.


A side note here, and a VERY prejudiced one at that. Puerto Rico is, well, Puerto Rico. And Puerto Ricans are very proud. I never ever expect anything to go as planned in Puerto Rico. Except the dirty martinis. Best dirties of my life in that place. But I digress. Just a few examples before I get to my most recent experience: in Puerto Rico, a conference room with electricity and a projection screen ACTUALLY means a pop-up canopy tent and 12 plastic chairs on a brick patio. With no electricity. 8 AM actually means 9:30 AM. Driving actually means whatever the hell you want it to mean. No directionals, no speed limit, no passing lane, no rules -- WWF, No Holds Barred. And flying to St. Croix at 3:30 PM actually means flying to St. Croix at 5 PM on a completely different airline than the one you booked.

On Saturday afternoon, after the morning workshop and a lovely lunch of plantain-battered fried chicken, beans, and rice with a hefty rum drink, I went back to the San Juan airport to fly to St. Croix, where my friends Cindy and Ross live. Cape Air already called to let me know I was bumped to the 4:30 PM flight, so when I arrived at the airport at 3 PM, I felt I was good to go for whatever trouble might arise (as to be expected in Puerto Rico). The nice woman at the Cape Air counter told me, once I wheeled up there, that the Cape Air flight had been cancelled, however, I was booked on the American Eagle flight at 5 PM. All I had to do was check in at the American Eagle counter...on the other end of the terminal.

OK. Wheel, wheel, wheel...all the way over to AE. I can't be issued my AE ticket, says the effeminate check-in staff member. What? Cape Air told me I was all set. Nay nay. No piece of paper from Cape Air, no ticket from AE. I am sent back to the Cape Air counter. Wheel, wheel, wheel...Cape Air says I should be all set. OH BLAH BLAH BLAH!! Use the phone, lady!! After one hour, much ado, and only one more trip back to the opposite end of the terminal, I am finally issued a ticket. I enter the world's longest security line, in San Juan airport, with only 30 minutes before my mini-craft starts boarding. Oh how I tried to not looked pissed or tap my toes...1 out of 2 is good, right?

I make it over to St. Croix without more trouble. And my bag even makes it, which was questionable after the Cape Air ground crew hacked the system to get my bag on to the AE flight for free. Oh the trust I put in that groundscrewman...[If it's not a word, it is to me now.] Ross picked me up, then we picked up Cindy, and then we headed to their apartment that overlooks the bay at Salt River. Freaking gorgeous!! This was Halloween night, and the moon was mostly full, reflecting off the sea, and illuminating all below, leaving shadows. The big party, however, was the next night, with better music at Norma's, in the rainforest. So this night, the three of us chilled out on rum and cokes, leftovers, and catching up.

On Sunday, we lazed about in the morning, then finally motivated to head down to the dive shop where Ross works as a dive master. We picked up some dive gear and tanks, and made our way to Cane Bay for a shore dive. As we made our way along the coast, we could tell there was a decent swell working, but we weren't sure how it would affect a dive. Fortunately (unfortunately?), we ran into a fellow diver, who told us it wasn't worth our time -- no visibility, a complete sandstorm. Boo, hiss. And back to the dive shop we went to drop off the gear and tanks.

Plan B: hike to the tide pools at Annaly Bay via the Trumbull Trail , which starts at Carambola Resort, just west of Cane Bay. The hike is amazing -- through the treeline and tall grasses, down to a rocky beach. Because of the swell, the waves were crashing into the bay and it was beautiful.




After the trail, we hit the grocery store for dinner supplies. We made burgers before getting ready to whoop it up at Norma's. Norma's feels like it is deep in the jungle. Mostly because no roads on St. Croix go in a straight line, and it was dark out. Except for the full moon. Spooky!! I was dressed as a cat with a cat mask, fishnets, and black tank top. I went for simple because a) it had to fit in my luggage, and b) it was pretty warm at the cluuub. Cindy and Ross were dressed as a mermaid, complete with tail, and an evil Neptune/Poseidon. I feel I did one helluva job on Ross's make up. Stellar, even.



There was dancing and half-naked (and one fully-naked) people. Ridiculous costumes, interesting costumes, half-assed get-ups, and many standers-by. In the end, Cindy and Ross ended up winning best costume for a couple! Fifty bucks, baby! After sweating off our costumes and downing enough beers to be tired, we headed home for the night with memories of good music, good people, and interesting characters...

Monday was pretty laid back. I was happy to just be with friends, and we didn't really get very far with our day. We hit the beach at Cane Bay for a little bit before I got packed up and ready to go. We had dinner at the Brew Pub in Christiansted before Cindy dropped me at the airport. I got there early, just in case there were any ticketing issues similar to the one I experienced on my way down from San Juan. Fortunately, there were none. Because apparently, I was the only passenger. I sat alone in the terminal. As the departure time loomed, I asked the TSA dude whether the flight was still happening. Just then, the ground crew popped in the terminal and said "Private charter?" Bewildering enough, I was indeed the ONLY passenger on the 10-person puddle jumper prop plane back to San Juan. Holy cajoli!! And what a beautiful night to fly. Full moonlight -- I could see the ripples on the sea, the cruise ships moving between ports with their deck lights all aglow, and the receeding lights of the homes on each of the small islands. It was an enjoyable 40 minutes in the air, and I had no worries about my bag. Once I got through the first customs desk, my bag was the only one waiting for me at the deserted baggage claim in the international arrivals terminal. Yes, my international flight from U.S. territory to U.S. territory. Whatever. It's Puerto Rico!!

Annnnd back to the Caribe Hilton for the rest of the task force meeting. If you want more info on what went down there, you can check it all out here.

I left for the Caribbean on a hectic Friday afternoon, and after the final morning session of the meeting the following Thursday, I was ready to return home. I have more than enough work at the office to keep me realing, and I have a Fall Food Fest to prepare for. Stay tuned for that entry...In the meantime, know this: Puerto Rico never runs on time or as planned. St. Croix is the better of the U.S. Virgin Islands (St. John is allegedly the best). A handle of Cruzan rum is worth every cent (and then some) of its $9 cost. The Caribe Hilton makes a mean dirty martini (with blue cheese-stuffed olives!!), but they WILL charge an arm and a leg (and you can't blame it on the exchange rate). They only charge an arm, however, during happy hour at Morton's. Fifty-five people registered for a workshop will be reported as the number that actually attended, even if only 20 people did attend said workshop in this little place we call reality. There's got to be more to Puerto Rico than dirty San Juan.

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