Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Toenails Are for Sissies
Cascade Lakes Relay (CLR) - Where good attitudes are mandatory and toenails are optional.
This past weekend was the Cascade Lakes Relay. This is the third consecutive year I have had the pleasure and pain of participating in the event. If you're unfamiliar with the CLR, it's a 12 person relay run covering 216 miles from Diamond Lake Resort to Summit High School in Bend. It's a blast, but it comes with it's challenges. This is how things went down this year.
Ross, my ever patient, immensely handsome* (Ross' edit) and accommodating husband, and I rolled into the resort following four hours of driving and two, count 'em t-w-o, McDonald stops. It was just before 7:00PM on Thursday evening. The rest of the team showed up about 40min later and we converged on the resort's conference room where a dinner was being held for the athletes and volunteers. We filled up on some delicious pre-race sandwiches and salads and headed to our rented cabins for a supposed night's sleep.
It quickly became apparent that sleep would allude us for most of the night. Four of us and a dog crowded into one little room and shut the door.
The door would supposedly create a sound barrier for teammate, Big Taco's, snoring. He was in another room with his door closed as well. It turns out we should have slept behind a closed door in a cabin across the road for that "sound barrier" to be effective. BT took snoring loudly to new heights, and I kind of feel like I need to commend him for a job well done.
(Big Taco, our fearless captain.)
As morning crept in, Ross crept out and headed to his volunteer station for the next six hours. The rest of us "slept" for another hour and a half and rolled out of bed at 6:45. We ate, showered, and headed to the start line to cheer on our teammate in the first leg of the relay. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and we were all anemic by the time we returned to the van. Waiting for our 8:00 start time, the "urge" hit me, and I had to find a port-a-potty in short order. Unfortunately, the same was true for about 200 participants who had earlier start times.
What I'm saying is, the Johns were cresting. My only recourse was to "hover" and hope the back-splash wouldn't reach me. For your information, I was successful.
On to the first exchange point. I was runner #2 and had a hilly ten mile leg to look forward to. As our first runner came into view, I decided to warm-up. Not really. That's what the first two miles are for. Right? (*Note: I do not endorse any of the training methods described in this post.) Our "baton" is one of those sweet slap bracelets that were popular in the early 90's. My teammate ran in, passed me the bracelet, and I was off. "Gross," I thought to myself. "She got this thing all sweaty." I ran a few hundred yards past the crowd of participants and realized my hand was still slick with her sweat...and chunky. "Sick!" I yelled, and wiped the goopy snot rocket residue off of my hand and onto my shorts. I pulled off the bracelet and proceeded to do the same with the inside of the band where some stubborn boogers were still sticking. For the next three miles I tried not to dry heave. All I could think about were the antiseptic wipes waiting for me in the van. I wondered if it would be wrong to ask for those instead of water when my team pulled along side of me. Eventually, the hill got the best of me and I stopped obsessing about my dirty hands and shorts.
Each of our runners made it through their first leg with no complaints beyond the heat, dust, and the freak swarm of grasshoppers that Big Taco encountered on the final quarter mile of his leg.
In Silver Lake, where Van 2 passes the baton to Van 1, the town's population tripled as all of the runners passed through. We stopped at the only restaurant, and as we finished our milkshakes and geared up for leg two, we met Cowboy Troy. His teeth were a little brown and his pants a little saggy, but the hat and boots were legit. He may have had a beer or four before coming out of the restaurant/bar/post office/gas station to be the town's official greeter. He was memorable.
Leaving Silver Lake, the scenery was absolutely gorgeous, and we were all in good spirits despite the continued blood loss. We saw cloud formations that looked like mountain ranges, real mountain ranges silhouetted by the setting sun, a comet or meteor blaze across the sky, a van stuck in a ditch, college kids sitting in a make-shift tee-pee on the side of the road, firefighters running with an American flag, pirates chasing booty, and horses carrying glow stick laden riders. Oh, and Big Taco dancing...interpretive dancing.
We made it through our second leg of runs by 2:00AM and headed to a saint's house to shower, brush our fuzzy teeth, and sleep for a couple of hours. I literally turned the shower water brown and brushing my teeth never felt so good. 4:30 came way too fast and we were up and off again. Our last legs of the relay were bitter sweet. It was sweet to be done for the day, but after anticipating this weekend for so long, we were a little sad it was over. Then we remembered "Margarita!" and realized we were not sad at all. Watermelon, cookies, pretzels, and grapes are tasty, but nothing beats a real substantial meal...and margaritas.
We paused to cheer on Van 2 and our studly ringer runner, as he raced to a course record time of 25:15 on an all uphill 4 mile time trial leg.
Then we headed to Bend to eat, drink, and try to stay awake until our final runner crossed the finish line.
Blistered toes, dust filled sinuses, sore muscles, sleep deprivation, why do we do this? You'd have to be there.
Rock on homies!!!
This past weekend was the Cascade Lakes Relay. This is the third consecutive year I have had the pleasure and pain of participating in the event. If you're unfamiliar with the CLR, it's a 12 person relay run covering 216 miles from Diamond Lake Resort to Summit High School in Bend. It's a blast, but it comes with it's challenges. This is how things went down this year.
Ross, my ever patient, immensely handsome* (Ross' edit) and accommodating husband, and I rolled into the resort following four hours of driving and two, count 'em t-w-o, McDonald stops. It was just before 7:00PM on Thursday evening. The rest of the team showed up about 40min later and we converged on the resort's conference room where a dinner was being held for the athletes and volunteers. We filled up on some delicious pre-race sandwiches and salads and headed to our rented cabins for a supposed night's sleep.
It quickly became apparent that sleep would allude us for most of the night. Four of us and a dog crowded into one little room and shut the door.
The door would supposedly create a sound barrier for teammate, Big Taco's, snoring. He was in another room with his door closed as well. It turns out we should have slept behind a closed door in a cabin across the road for that "sound barrier" to be effective. BT took snoring loudly to new heights, and I kind of feel like I need to commend him for a job well done.
(Big Taco, our fearless captain.)
As morning crept in, Ross crept out and headed to his volunteer station for the next six hours. The rest of us "slept" for another hour and a half and rolled out of bed at 6:45. We ate, showered, and headed to the start line to cheer on our teammate in the first leg of the relay. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and we were all anemic by the time we returned to the van. Waiting for our 8:00 start time, the "urge" hit me, and I had to find a port-a-potty in short order. Unfortunately, the same was true for about 200 participants who had earlier start times.
What I'm saying is, the Johns were cresting. My only recourse was to "hover" and hope the back-splash wouldn't reach me. For your information, I was successful.
On to the first exchange point. I was runner #2 and had a hilly ten mile leg to look forward to. As our first runner came into view, I decided to warm-up. Not really. That's what the first two miles are for. Right? (*Note: I do not endorse any of the training methods described in this post.) Our "baton" is one of those sweet slap bracelets that were popular in the early 90's. My teammate ran in, passed me the bracelet, and I was off. "Gross," I thought to myself. "She got this thing all sweaty." I ran a few hundred yards past the crowd of participants and realized my hand was still slick with her sweat...and chunky. "Sick!" I yelled, and wiped the goopy snot rocket residue off of my hand and onto my shorts. I pulled off the bracelet and proceeded to do the same with the inside of the band where some stubborn boogers were still sticking. For the next three miles I tried not to dry heave. All I could think about were the antiseptic wipes waiting for me in the van. I wondered if it would be wrong to ask for those instead of water when my team pulled along side of me. Eventually, the hill got the best of me and I stopped obsessing about my dirty hands and shorts.
Each of our runners made it through their first leg with no complaints beyond the heat, dust, and the freak swarm of grasshoppers that Big Taco encountered on the final quarter mile of his leg.
In Silver Lake, where Van 2 passes the baton to Van 1, the town's population tripled as all of the runners passed through. We stopped at the only restaurant, and as we finished our milkshakes and geared up for leg two, we met Cowboy Troy. His teeth were a little brown and his pants a little saggy, but the hat and boots were legit. He may have had a beer or four before coming out of the restaurant/bar/post office/gas station to be the town's official greeter. He was memorable.
Leaving Silver Lake, the scenery was absolutely gorgeous, and we were all in good spirits despite the continued blood loss. We saw cloud formations that looked like mountain ranges, real mountain ranges silhouetted by the setting sun, a comet or meteor blaze across the sky, a van stuck in a ditch, college kids sitting in a make-shift tee-pee on the side of the road, firefighters running with an American flag, pirates chasing booty, and horses carrying glow stick laden riders. Oh, and Big Taco dancing...interpretive dancing.
We made it through our second leg of runs by 2:00AM and headed to a saint's house to shower, brush our fuzzy teeth, and sleep for a couple of hours. I literally turned the shower water brown and brushing my teeth never felt so good. 4:30 came way too fast and we were up and off again. Our last legs of the relay were bitter sweet. It was sweet to be done for the day, but after anticipating this weekend for so long, we were a little sad it was over. Then we remembered "Margarita!" and realized we were not sad at all. Watermelon, cookies, pretzels, and grapes are tasty, but nothing beats a real substantial meal...and margaritas.
We paused to cheer on Van 2 and our studly ringer runner, as he raced to a course record time of 25:15 on an all uphill 4 mile time trial leg.
Then we headed to Bend to eat, drink, and try to stay awake until our final runner crossed the finish line.
Blistered toes, dust filled sinuses, sore muscles, sleep deprivation, why do we do this? You'd have to be there.
Rock on homies!!!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
One Year Ago, Today
It seems hard to believe that Ross and I got married one year ago, today. In fact, it was just 38min from now, last August 7th, that my dad was walking me down the aisle. The details are still so vivid in my mind that it's hard to comprehend that the whole thing happened 365 days ago. It was truly the best day of my life. The days leading up to the actual ceremony were pretty unforgettable as well. Thank you so much to our friends and family for all of the time and support you gave us along the way and for making our wedding such a special and perfect day.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Birthday Wishes
To My Old Sister:
Happy Birthday to my sister.
If I spanked you,
my young hand would blister.
No candles for your birthday cake.
We knew a mess,
that flaming 30 would make.
Hopefully you had a good day.
If you didn't,
that boy is going to pay.
I think that's all I have to rhyme.
Happy Birthday,
we all had a great time!
Sincerely,
Your Much Younger Sister
Happy Birthday to my sister.
If I spanked you,
my young hand would blister.
No candles for your birthday cake.
We knew a mess,
that flaming 30 would make.
Hopefully you had a good day.
If you didn't,
that boy is going to pay.
I think that's all I have to rhyme.
Happy Birthday,
we all had a great time!
Sincerely,
Your Much Younger Sister
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