How The Rest Was Run. Leg 32, 10:00am(ish)

<< Second Leg #RunNightStand

Running is stupid. I mean, really not an intelligent thing to do in a Van with 5 other people, with limited showering ability.

I woke up from that second leg of the race like “why”? Why am I here? Why is this a thing? Why am I so stiff, yet comfy? #CamoOnesie Why am I so excited to see the medal? Why do I do things like this for medals? With $200, I could actually go out and buy one. Why do I pay people, to in turn earn medals? Is this the meaning of life?

Yes. Yes it is. This is your purpose. Run it.

I’m in go mode by this point. We’ve gotten to the last major exchange. We have put together a solid game plan to finish in style (and time), and it’s Go Time! Let’s get it.

Leg 32: 3.40 Miles. Easy.

But breakfast. So how about we get these eggs, and bacon, and toast with the grape jelly, first? Yea, that’s a great idea. Because you haven’t been sleeping in a car for a day and a half, and you’re totally not about to go run a 5K+. You should definitely eat breakfast then run. That’s literally the smartest thing to do at this point in time. -_-

Good Grief. It’s like I make this stuff up sometimes.

In that first mile, I really considered giving up. I was running sickly on the corner next to a bank and a grocery store. I had this really great idea to go to the bank. Get some money. Got to the store. Buy all of the things. Then sit down. Because yea, health.

Too bad my wallet just passed me in the SUV with my 5 running lady friends, cheering me on to the next exchange point.

I hate my life.

Welp, let’s get these miles. If you wanna rest, it’s on the other end of this leg of the race. Okay, resurgence of energy. Wobble perfected. Let’s make it happen. After the light changes. Because we’re not running across this street. Because that’s a highway on-ramp. And, life. It’s a thing I’ve gotten accustomed to.

As I am making my way across a street. A man, in car with other people, is attempting to negotiate a left turn to the highway. At the same time that I am attempting to get across the street. With a CHP car *with the lights on* to the right side of both of us. Me, in the middle of the street, about to be hit, with a cop car less than 100 yards away.

…and if you guess that nobody helped me, you are correct. #BlackRunnersMatter

But at that point, I was like eff it. That medal ain’t even all that shiny anyway. It’s not worth it being hit by a speeding car when I could have just walked into one of these vineyards and treated myself. Eff this race. Eff Ragnar. Eff these stupid blue directional signs. Eff it all! I’m out!

And by out, I mean, I’m just going to run my disgruntled self right along this path because I’m not about that giving up life #ItsSoHardToDo #WhenYouReallyLoveMedals #ThatWasAMovieSongReference. As much as I want to be a defector, I’ve got 11 other lady running friends waiting on me so they can get their greatness – that’s not fair.

One Mile To Go: This was amazing! I can’t believe it’s almost over. Lemme get a good selfie with this sign. I mean, I hate it’s about to end, but I do want it to well, end. So I’m conflicted. But maybe I should be conflicted and run? I’m getting killed. *runner smiles and passes me up*

With a slight attitude adjustment, and a strong desire to “sat down” somewhere, I made it to the Exchange point. The most disrespectful part of it all? My leg was super flat. Like super duper flat. Except well, the end. As in, the very last portion of it. You know, the part you had to run all the way up to, to meet your runner?

Fuh-K.

Ragnar Napa – 200(ish)miles

Leg 8: 7.0 miles R

Leg 20: 3.5 miles R

Leg 32: 3.4 Miles R