Rag Tag

So you've decided to participate in a Ragnar race... First question: What role do you want to play?


If the answer is "I just want to run it," then Congratulations!! Train well, be honest about your pace, and offer to help the captain if you can.



Here are the requirements to run a Ragnar:
~ be able to run at least 13 miles split into three smaller runs
~ come up with the $$ required (registration + van/gas money)
~ be available for the weekend of the race- including getting to your van and back to your car
~ a headlamp, blinking tail light, and reflective vest for night running

It would be nice if:
~ You had 1-3 friends who could volunteer at the race
~ You had another friend who could drive a van
~ You had another friend who owned a 15-passenger van OR suburban
~ You are creative with team-names or van decorations
~ You are type B enough to tolerate other people's issues


If the answer is "I want to be a team captain," then may God have mercy on your soul. And may your team be solid in their pace. And prompt with their payment. And effusive with their friends so you have enough drivers and volunteers.

Here are the requirements to Captain a team:
~ Collect $2,000. (They only accept one large payment.)
~ Know some people who want to do this with you.
~ Keep track of 11-16 people.
~ Interface with the Race Director about your team pace.
~ Pick a starting time based on team pace.
~ Find  more people to be runners/volunteers/drivers.
~ Be able to run at least 13 miles split into three smaller runs.
~ Be type A enough to keep all this straight.
~ Be type B enough to trust this will all work out ok.

It would be nice if:
~ You could find vans easily.
~ You live near either the start or finish line.
~ One or more of your runners can be a co-captain.
~ You could get team t-shirts cheaply and easily.
~ You have an understanding family who can take care of your pets/children for the weekend.
~ You know how to use Excel spreadsheets.


Other options:
~ Van drivers need to stay calm and put up with a van of runners, also directional skills are a plus.
~ Volunteers pick one location and do general race-helper stuff for 4-6 hours.
~ "Ultra" teams do all of this, just with 6 runners instead of 12. More miles, fewer people. Shenanigans.

Ichi-go Ichi-e

(Aw, great. She's abandoned English altogether.)

In Japanese, "Ichigo Ichie" is directly translated as "One time. One meeting." It's a figure of speech that means that every time you meet a person you meet a new spirit- and that meeting is the only one that you've got. It's kinda like when they say "you never step into the same river twice" except with people. All people. Friends from college, spouses, kids, parents, coworkers, whoever.

It's a philosophy we cherish in our house. Since Stephan is a nurse and I'm a massage therapist we meet a lot of people. And we use this concept to deal with them. If you consider that you've only got this one chance to love this specific person right now, you become more mindful about how you treat them. Every encounter becomes something sacred. On a good day, we even remember to act this way with each other.

It's a concept that values that a person is ever-changing. Since I stepped out of the room and back into it, I've had 12 thoughts, done 3 things, and changed purpose 2 times. When I come back to the kitchen, I'm a different person (in time) than I was a few minutes ago.

But isn't it really hard to not carry in your mind all the things a person used to be? I suspect it's harder for women. We tend to keep a mental list of a person's characteristics and refer back to it all the time. Or maybe that's just me. Which is why I have to frequently remember Ichigo Ichie. It demands forgiveness. It demands second chances (and thirds, and fourths...). It requires Grace.

When I think back on all the moments I've had with people, sometimes I'm honored. Sometimes I'm ashamed. Sometimes I'm just confused. When I think about all the big relationships I've ever had, and then over-lay those memories with the weight of One Time, One Meeting, a song pops into my head. A lyric specifically:

Oh, but if you could, do you think you would trade it all? All the pain and suffering? But then you would have missed the beauty of the Light upon this earth and the sweetness of the leaving.

Overheard: In My Brain

Me: Hey Anna, how was your last day of therapy?

Me: Great! If you don't count the part where I bolted out at the end and cried in a stairwell for 5 minutes.

The awesome thing, though, is that I stood up after 5 minutes, got in the car, and did the rest of my day like a Boss. Sure, I could use a really long run right now. And maybe some rum (I'm skipping over wine). But all-in-all I'm confident that this is going to all be ok.

When Rags cost Riches

(hee hee. See what I did there? Oh, not yet? Hold on. You'll get it in a minute...)

So I'm coordinating a Ragnar team for next month's Madison to Chicago relay. It's 198 miles, with 12 runners, 2 vans, and 2 drivers. Stephan and I signed up together. Which is awesome. We dragged his 19 year-old niece along with us. So we make up 3 of the 12 runners.

Ready for the total?
Registration is $120 per runner.
Van rental + gas is $50 per runner.
Volunteer payment is $10 per runner.
Gear (lights, reflective vests) is about $30 per runner.

This has GOT to be one of the most expensive running experiences out there. But? Are we doing this? Aw yeah- we are TOTALLY doing this.

Being the team leader is pretty stressful. It's taking a lot of coordination. But I can't wait to get out there on the road!!

Graduation

Sawyer finished 2 year old preschool last week. I didn't cry. It was like school with training wheels. Or really short day care. And that's all cool.

But next week? Next week I finish therapy. No, I'm not cured. Yes, I still have a lot of work to do to stay healthy. But for me, for now, this part is over. I have a giant list of tools I've been practicing with for the last 10 months. I've learned how to recognize a mood shift, how to be at peace with it, and how to weather the storm. I've put together all the pieces that make a complete picture of my life without the gaping holes that depression used to leave- and without the shattering, shaking, mess that the hypo-mania used to make out of everything.

Of course, this is all very dramatic for me right now. I've been relying on the practitioners so heavily for the last year that it's pretty scary to think of having a go at this without them. I've been walking with crutches for so long that, even though I know- I know- I can do this myself (and with the amazing support I've found from my family and friends), I'll definitely miss the extra hands.

And like everything in my life, there's a playlist for that:

"You hold me without touch, keep me without shame."

"I let you see the parts of me that weren't all that pretty. And with every touch you fixed them."

"I don't wanna be hurt. I just wanna be little old me. I don't wanna have to think, 'who am I supposed to be today?'"

"You just sit on your hands and quietly contemplate your next bold move: the next thing you're gonna have to prove to yourself."

"She says she talks to Angels. They call her out by her name."

"When I said I'd take it, I meant As Is."

"There's a hole in my pocket that's about her size. But I think everything's gonna be alright."

2am PSA

Should you talk to your doctor about your breast-cancer risks (especially after the Angelina Jolie news)? Absolutely. But don't forget: 

"Over a lifetime, one in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer, the most common cancer in women, other than skin cancer."

Sun. Block. Runners.

"How Many Pins do I Need?"

[A post in progress]

This weekend was amazing. Let's go on a mental trip for a minute.

Do you remember your very first race? Do you remember the very first time you did anything that you now do on a regular basis (i.e. stand in front of a classroom full of kids, cut someone's hair, touch a naked person for money)? Do you remember the swirling thoughts?

"I trained for this."
"I can do this."
"I've done this before- this isn't so different from those other times."
"What on Earth am I doing here?"
"I don't belong here."
"Can I change my mind?"
"That's ok. I can do this."
"Just start. You know it'll go fast if you just start (talking, touching, running)."


You look around and see other people gliding in around you, comfortable in their skin, in their work, in the task at hand. Maybe you look away, not wanting to be distracted from your own movement through time. Maybe you stare intently at them, watching for a clue that will help you fit in better, a hint at how to proceed. Or are you just focused? Tunnel vision to get through the uncomfortable moment. Do you think that these first steps are the first of hundreds? Hundreds of runs, hundreds of classes, thousands of people touched? Does your mind open a little to see the expansive nature of what you will accomplish in the next few years (decades)?