Race Report: 2012 Ragnar Wasatch Back

I'm not a naturally gifted runner.  I'm just better at suffering.

June 15-16 I had the unique opportunity to run the 2012 Ragnar Wasatch Back with Alisha, as well as all three of my siblings.  (Though two of them were on different teams.)  Although we never all met up at the same place at the same time, we crossed paths a few times and took photos to document our mini family reunions.  Here are 3 siblings and Alisha at Exchange 6.

Alisha's friend Ali organizes a Utah Ragnar team every year, and when one of her runners dropped out a few months ago, Alisha volunteered to be on the team.  We decided to make a family vacation of it.  As time went on, a few more runners dropped out, so my brother Jeff and I both volunteered to be on the team.  I can't pass up the chance to run in Utah, in the "original" Ragnar.

Now, if you are looking for a complete report of our team's experience (Team Wii Not Fit), you'll have to look elsewhere.  I thought all of our vanmates were very cool and capable runners, and I could probably write a much longer post with 800 photos of everyone.  But alas, The Fourth Discipline is all about me, so you'll have to ask everyone else for their race experiences.

I feel incredibly lucky to be able to run with Alisha again.  She really is the best Ragnar teammate you could ask for.  Forget your sunscreen?  She has it. Forget your drinks?  She brought extra. Need a photo?  She took 8.  And so on.  She basically owns these relay races.

So on to the racing.  And forgive me for bragging about Alisha and myself ... it IS my blog, you know. 

My first two legs were very tame, by Ragnar standards.  My first (Leg 10) was only 3.8 miles, mostly flat -- but at 5,000 feet.  Although I grew up at 5,000 feet, I haven't lived at that altitude for 11 years.  So it's hard to predict how your body will react to the thinner oxygen.  Joe Friel, author of The Bible, wrote this excellent blog post about the effects of altitude on performance.  He notes that VO2 max (the body's aerobic capacity) decreases by roughly 2% for every 1,000 feet in altitude change.  So at 5,000 feet, I'm only 90% of myself.

This was apparent from the beginning of my run.  Although I breathed as if I was running "race pace," my legs just weren't moving as fast.  In fact, when a guy named Nathan passed me at mile 1, I couldn't match his pace.  He's the guy in the white shirt.  As he began to pull away from me, I told him, "Congratulations, but you should know that I don't give up easily."

The afternoon was hot, but a local fire station sprayed us down as we ran by.

If you know me at all, you know how the story ends.  I kept Nathan in sight, and slowly chipped away at his lead.  Within the last 200 meters, I caught and passed him.  See him in the white shirt, behind me?  Petty one-upmanship?  Hypercompetitive attitude?  Absolutely.  But I don't give up easily.  Besides, what fun would "racing" be if there was no real competition on the course?

I was aiming for about a 7:30/mile pace, but given my competitive spirit, I overdid it a little and turned in a pace just over 7 minutes/mile.  Probably not a good idea for the beginning of a long race.

Wasatch Back has been around for 9 years, and it is much more mature than the DC Ragnar.  By mature, I mean that it has well-established exchange points, routes, and even volunteers.  One exchange in particular (19) was brilliant.  At 3am, in the pitch dark of a crescent moon, we drove up a quiet, winding road to the summit of a mountain.  when we arrived, we encountered Exchange 19, complete with strobe lights, an exchange chute that looked like an airfield, and music cranked to volume 11.  A DJ was hollering encouragement to the runners and pumping up the crowd.  It was exactly what we all needed at 3am -- a reminder that we were in the middle of something epic.

My second leg was 7.5 miles, but it was entirely on a rails-to-trails path (flat & hard-packed gravel).  Alisha ran the first 10 miles of the gravel path along this beautiful lake as the sun was rising.

But apparently the scenery was not enough to outweigh the frigid temperature and distance.  10 miles is no joke, and Alisha signaled her displeasure.

Most of our teammates were snoozing peacefully in the van at this point, but Jeff was kind enough to bring the camera and snap a few photos of us at the exchange.

My 7.5 miles were rather uneventful, and I unfortunately did not have a beautiful lake to look at.  But I now know what the back of a dairy farm looks like.  I again felt the heaviness in my legs of running at altitude (this time at 5650-5850 feet), but I turned in a respectable time.  This is a photo of me "high-stepping" to the finish for dramatic effect.

After our van stopped at exchange 30, we snarfed down some pancakes & eggs and tried to get a little sleep.  The exchange was very noisy and busy, with hundreds of teams coming and going.  And it was beginning to get really hot at this point.  One thing I missed about Virginia was the trees.  We found the few little trees in the area and huddled around them like animals crowd water sources in the Savanna.

Here are the three Lacey brothers, swapping war stories.  Can you tell which one of us is the runt in the family?  Rod's team would finish well before ours, so this was unfortunately the only time we crossed paths on the course.

Alisha remembered earplugs and eye shades.  (If you ask nice enough, she'll probably give you an extra set.)

And here we are huddling around the dwindling shade in that blazing afternoon sun.  Did I mention it was hot?

This is a photo of "The Ragnar," Guardsman Pass in Wasatch State Park.  I believe the pass is the little zigzag at the center of the photo.  Alisha and I split the responsibility for 3241 feet of climbing over our last running assignments.

Alisha's leg started with a mile of rolling hills, then turned up.  And I mean straight, up. 

I had tried to envision just how steep this hill would be, but it was even more challenging than I had expected.  She blew by other teams, even when she had to stop periodically to walk. 

I'm afraid the photos just can't capture the grade, but this one comes pretty close.  We were thankful that the road was (a) not covered with 6 feet of fresh snow as in previous years, (b) paved for the first time ever, and (c) slightly shaded for the first several miles.

Alisha finished her portion strong, and we shared a kiss at the exchange.  Jeff hollered that it was our 11th anniversary that day, and the people at the exchange gave us a quick golf-clap.  Off to the races!

Holy mackerel, this hill was steep!  I committed myself to running the 4 miles, whatever it took.  I told myself repeatedly that "I can do anything for 4 miles."  At times, my run slowed to a sort of run-in-place because of the grade, but I kept my legs churning. 

I'm not built to be a very fast runner, but I've learned to handle the suffering that goes along with long-distance races.  The run is the final discipline in triathlon, and those who can ignore their bodies tend to do best in the run.  This quality helped me immensely on "The Ragnar."  I don't remember smiling, so this photo has obviously been photoshopped.

As I moved higher up the mountain, the air became lighter and the shade disappeared.  According to Joe Friel, at 8881 feet, I'm roughly 82.24% of myself, running a steeper hill than anything I've ever run before.  Did I mention it was HOT?  Every 3/4 mile or so, the team doused me with ice water and gave me a drink.  It took no more than 15 seconds before my body craved another drink.

Because most people were walking, there were many teams bunched up on the mountain.  I churned away, keeping track of the teams I passed.  At one point, a guy I passed asked me, "What's your secret?"  I responded, "I train at sea level ..."  (Yes, that's obnoxious, but what was I supposed to say?  I own a hyperbaric tent?)

Another guy cursed loudly when I passed him.  "You're the first person in this whole race to have passed me ..."  Sorry dude.  I'm awesome.  You should read my blog!

In the end, I was happy with the results.  (Here comes the ritual gloating ...)  Aside from the team's overall start and finish time, this is the only part of the race that is timed.  I came in a respectable 36th out of 751 teams in the "mixed" division, at 41:37.  When was the last time I was excited about an average pace of 10:24 min/mi?  What's more flattering is that ours was the only non-Utah team to rank in the top 60.

The obsessive-compulsive Eric got stuck at 29 "kills," or 29 teams passed over the 4-mile leg.  #30 was about 200 meters ahead of me when the exchange came into view, and although I did my best to catch him, the distance was just too far.  In my rush to give Jeff the baton (a slap bracelet), I didn't notice that he was trying to lean in for his own "anniversary kiss."  Note my instictive reaction. 

I think he was still laughing for the next hour about this.

This is Jeff running down the other side of the summit (center of photo).  My only regret is that I didn't have a bike to ride down this insane series of hairpin turns.

While we passed the sufferfest on to Jeff for the next hour, Alisha and I enjoyed the fruits of another epic anniversary.  This year we ran our guts out to the summit of a mountain.  (Recall that last year we biked our guts out on a different mountain -- Mont Ventoux in France.)  The view from the summit was incredible.  And the feeling of having accomplished another challenge with my best friend made it even better.  I'm lucky to know Alisha, and I've really enjoyed the 11 years we've been married.

The finish line was special because my parents and two of three siblings were all there.  (Speedy Rod's team was already showered and home in bed.)  I'm grateful that we are all in relatively good health, and that we can run together like this. 

And I'm grateful that I got to spend another fun anniversary with Alisha.  Any ideas for next year?