Relay races are about more than running

Running Mary to the finish

Yesterday five of us from our Training for More running groups finished the inaugural Old Route Relay, a 50 mile loop run in Hinesburg, VT and the surrounding area. Gail, Fern and I are relay veterans, having completed at least one of the 100 on 100 (100 miles on Vermont Route 100) relay races over the previous three years. Mary and Faith were our 'relay virgins', ready to complete their first relay race.

A relay event is more than simply taking turns covering a 50 mile course. We started at 11am on Saturday when we met at Fern's house to load up her car with overnight essentials, gear for the relay, and food - lots of food. Relay teams are self-sufficient, providing our own water, food, Gu, sports drinks, etc. We plan ahead for any possibility and operate with the idea that more (food) is always better.

Along the drive up to Hinesburg we talked about past races, our current training programs, family, travel, work; the talk never faltered and there was lots of laughter and fun. As we drove the course, the temperature dropped almost 30 degrees and a light rain started to fall. Perfect running weather! We noted the hills, the transition areas, the possible places to pee, and where we could stop for more food if necessary.

Fern took us to one of her favorite running stores, Fleet Feet in Essex Junction, where we resisted temptation and purchased only new flavors of gels and old-standby sports drinks. Dinner at Three Tomatoes involved lots of pasta and water to fuel the next day's run. We were in bed by 9am, with a 4am wake-up call.

The day of the race we loaded up the car at 4:30am and drove the 11 miles to the start in complete darkness and temperatures in the low 30's, glad that we scouted the course the previous day. Fern, our first runner, had no time to be nervous as the race director lined up the group starting at 5:30am, gave us a few instructions, and yelled "Go!".

A relay is a complex undertaking. Each of us ran in order:  Fern #1, Gail #2, Faith #3, Lynn #4, Mary #5. As Fern started running to the first transition area 7.2 miles away, the rest of us took a few minutes for one last visit to the restroom, climbed into the car, and drove off in search of Fern. Whenever we passed a runner, we rolled down the window and cheered them on. We drove to the first turn, parked the car, and as we saw Fern run up we spilled out of the car, cheering her on and making sure she made the correct turn. Then we climbed back into the car, drove ahead, and repeated the process until we reached the transition area.

Hundreds of times during the day we repeating the following:  climb in the car, drive ahead of the runner, stop and wait for the runner, cheer them on. Sometimes the routine varied:  we stopped for gas, to purchase scones and muffins at a bakery, to use an indoor bathroom. We changed out of cold and wet running clothes in the car. We drank chocolate milk, ate energy bars and pretzels, shared hard-boiled eggs and string cheese, and drank water constantly to refuel and get ready for the next run.

The only quiet time was when I was running. This was the first year of the Old Route Relay, and there were only 32 teams. We ran by ourselves the vast majority of the time, periodically seeing other relay teams and exchanging hellos and information. Most of the route was along rural roads with very little traffic. The weather stayed cold and overcast, with fog and clouds obscuring any possible mountain views. As I ran along, pushing the pace faster than usual because this IS a race, after all, I noticed the cows in the green fields, the smell of fresh manure, and the daffodils blooming by the farmhouses. Periodically the silence was broken by the sound of our car coming up behind me, and my teammates cheering out the windows. "Are you OK?" "Do you need any water?" "You look great!". Then it was back to listening to my feet crunch in the gravel as I continued the run.

Tradition holds that everyone on the team runs the last few yards together. This was easy for Mary, our last runner, since she had built up speed running down the hill and had the finish line in her sights. The rest of us moved more slowly as we tried to work the kinks out of sore, tired, and cold joints and muscles. We managed to cross the finish line together, cementing the fact that we were a team.

Mary, Gail, Fern, Faith and Lynn after the finish



The day wasn't over! We drove south toward home, looking for a restaurant with hot food after a long day snacking on food from our cooler. The conversation continued, this time telling stories of the various routes we ran that day, the other relay teams we met, and of course more laughter. We pulled back into Fern's driveway at 5:30pm on Sunday, 30 hours after we left.

Running is often a solo endeavor as we fit time to run into busy lives. The running groups give us the opportunity for weekly group training runs, and we often go to races together. Even if we run alongside someone else during the race, it's still an individual experience.

A relay is a group event from start to finish, changing and enriching the entire race experience. After so much time spent together, we appreciate the details of each other's lives. Our friendships deepen as we cover the miles. Add another medal to my collection, another t-shirt to my drawer, and memories to be savored as I run again this week.

Running blind

It made sense when I planned it out:  finish my work for the day, use the wheelbarrow to haul mulch for the flower beds, go to the eye doctor to figure out why vision in my right eye is blurry, and then fit in a quick 3 mile run before going out to dinner.

It didn't make as much sense after Dr. Porter decided to dilate my eyes, leaving my pupils almost as large as my irises. When I picked up the prescription for cortisone eye drops to hopefully decrease the eyelid inflammation that seems to be causing the blurry vision, the pharmacy tech had to fill out the paperwork for me because I couldn't see clearly enough to read.

At least I remembered my running sunglasses, and thought that an easy mile on the Rec Park path, followed by quarter mile intervals and a short cool-down, wouldn't tax my limited vision resources. When I had trouble fitting the trunk key in the lock to get out my heart rate monitor, I knew my plans were going to change. I couldn't open the trunk, which meant I couldn't gauge my pace using my heart rate monitor. I thought I'd run old-school and time myself using my Timex Ironman sports watch. Until I realized I couldn't see the numbers on the watch.

On to plan C, or possibly at this point plan F. I decided to simply run by how I felt. I took the first mile slow and easy, and after a quick hamstring stretch (who knew that hauling mulch could tighten up my hamstrings?), I sped off for the first quarter-mile interval. Luckily there are large wooden fence posts marking quarter miles on the Rec Park path, and I've run this path hundreds of times so there's no danger of inadvertently making a wrong turn due to blurry vision.

I alternated fast and slow quarter-miles, stopping to stretch before the next fast interval. I based my pace on my breathing instead of my watch and on pumping my arms more quickly instead of checking the number of steps I took in 30 seconds.

When I first started running 20 years ago, I ran to take in views of the Green Mountains, to hear my feet crunch up the hills on the dirt roads around my house, to listen for birds instead of the telephone or the kids needing me right that minute. Somehow I got away from the joy of running simply to run, and became dependent on pace, heart rate, set workouts, and weekly mileage goals. My run today started as a typical scripted workout, part of the larger plan of training for the Flying Pig marathon in two weeks and the 50 mile Old Route Relay this weekend. I ended up squinting when I ran through sunny sections of the path and enjoying the comfort of the shady parts. I could still see the mountains and hear the birds. I ran, and realized that was the whole point.

Are you leery about joining a running group?

I'll admit it:  joining a new running group can create a lot of anxiety and even fear. What if they all run really fast? What if I'm the oldest, youngest, heaviest, slowest, most awkward, etc? Will anybody talk to me?

Our Spring training group started Sunday with introductions from women new to the group, hugs for those we haven't seen in a few months, and lots of cheering for the ones who finished a half-marathon two weeks ago. BJ proudly wore a shirt with "13.1 miles - been there, done that" on the front. Harriet showed off her Training for More running cap, complete with the green and purple streamers we added for the half-marathon. Many of the women wore a favorite race t-shirt from one of our group races.

As we went around the circle introducing ourselves, I heard a few common themes:
- I joined the group because I miss walking/running with my friends
- I'm here to keep up my motivation
- Running/walking together is so much fun!

As we walked and ran around the path at the Manchester Rec Park for our cool-down at the end of our first session, Sonce, new to our group, told me how much fun she was already having. "I only joined to support my friends, and thought I'd never come here on my own. But everyone is so friendly and supportive, I'll be back!"

Joining a walking/running group can increase your motivation, fitness, endurance, confidence and fun quotient. Don't let fear hold you back!

Another half-marathon completed!

39 women from our half-marathon and marathon training groups gathered in Westfield, MA for the race on April 1st.

The Boys and Girls Club was a wonderful spot to get our gear together, stretch, and prepare for the race. Seasoned racers shared advice, everyone double-checked to make sure they had their number pinned on the front of their shirt, and lots of laughter helped calm pre-race jitters.

At 10am, the walkers started their race to enthusiastic cheering.

Then one hour later, the runners started as part of the largest field ever at this race - almost 900 of us!

We had perfect race day conditions:  temperatures right around 50, overcast skies, and little to no wind. The course was beautiful, and the three hills in the first four miles were easy compared to our hilly roads in southwestern Vermont. Everyone finished feeling strong, some with smiles and cheers, others with emotions overflowing.

Every year I'm amazed at what these women have accomplished. They not only trained - outside - in freezing temperatures, snowstorms, sleet, rain, and the hottest March temperatures on record - but they also juggled family committments and work to make time for themselves. They made new friends, cemented old friendships, told stories of blisters and Gu, and through everything helped each other reach their goals.

As they cross through the finish line to the cheers of their family, friends and the group, they realize what they've just done. They not only walked or ran 13.1 miles today, but they accumulated  over 100 miles of walking and running in their training this winter.

Finishing a half-marathon is a really big deal. Finishing it with your training group is amazing.

I'm not a hugger, but after a race I give out - and receive - hugs from everyone. Big hugs with lots of tears due to the range of emotions everyone is feeling:  relief, pride, joy, amazement.

13.1 miles.  Been there, done that.