50 for 50: 2009

YEAR: 2009

AGE: Turned 39 on Nov. 6

LOCATION: SLC, Ramona Avenue

CUBS' RECORD: 83-78

SONGS I LIKED: "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas; "Sometime Around Midnight" by The Airborne Toxic Event

MOVIES I SAW: "The Blind Side"; "Up"; "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs"

TV SHOWS I WATCHED: "The Mentalist"; "Big Bang Theory"; "The Biggest Loser"; "Flash Forward"

VIDEO GAMES I PLAYED: Final Fantasy Tactics 2; Mario vs. Donkey Kong

I ran cross country and track in high school. I wasn't that good at running, but it was a good sport -- it kept me in shape and combined a bit of solitude (and music when I ran on my own) with exercise. Over they years, I've tried to maintain a regular running routine like I did in high school. I last a few weeks or a few months and fall off the wagon. 

Early in 2009, I did something bold -- I committed to run a leg (actually, three legs) of the Wasatch Back -- a Ragnar relay in which teams of 12 ran 180 miles or so, starting early on a Friday morning and ending sometime Saturday afternoon. Lori had run on a Ragnar team the summer before with a friend, and they added me to their plans for the next relay in June.

I knew in January that I couldn't wait until May to start training. I started running in earnest -- 30 seconds on, 90 seconds off -- at the track at the JCC. Eventually, the weather warmed, and I settled into a nice outdoor route I'd run at least a few times a week. I got up to four minutes of running for every minute of walking, which worked well for me. The biggest deterrent over the years was the idea that so much was running was ahead. In these intervals, I was never more than a few minutes from a break, and I ran the running part of it just a bit faster than I would have if I hadn't been briefly walking. 

I wasn't sure if I was making progress until about March, when I ran a 5K. The morning was cold, and the first few hundred yards, my body was saying, "Really, you're actually running this?" But then I came across at 28:25 -- not fast by my high school standards, but pretty good for 38, considering I ran around the same time when I was 28 at a 5K in Milwaukee (at a lower altitude). My confidence grew over the next two months as the relay approached.

Lori ended up not running the relay -- we couldn't figure out who would watch the boys overnight, and Lori, knowing how hard I'd been training, decided to do one of our team's volunteer four-hour volunteer shifts instead. I was designated as Runner 12 in Van 2 for our team. That would entail a 3-mile run uphill to Snowbasin, a 5-mile run into Kamas, and the last 4 miles or so to the finish line.

My first leg was brutal. The first mile was flat but then went severely uphill. My goal was to run as fast as I could through the first mile and hang on for dear life. The road was steep, and instead of four minutes running, one minute walking, I was reduced to one and one. I finished the leg exhausted and barely able to move. I dozed off in the van on our way to a state park, where we would rest a few hours until our van was back on the road. It would be another nine hours or so until I ran again. 

I pulled out a sleeping bag at the park ... and couldn't fall asleep for the life of me. My brain was too wired up, and the nap didn't help. In retrospect, the state park surrounded the lake -- if I had waded in and become sufficiently chilled, the energy might have sapped out of me and I might have dozed off. I lounged in the sleeping bag as long as I could, watched "Sixteen Candles" on my iPod, and tried not to think about not sleeping.

We hit the road again, and I did fall asleep for maybe a half-hour in the van. My second leg eventually was coming up around 5 a.m., and outside near the mountains was chilly. Again, my body rebelled, pondering why I was running in the cold on a half-hour of sleep, but after the first mile, the adrenaline kicked in. Then the sun started rising, and on my iPod Shuffle, "Light of Day" by Joan Jett randomly played. The lyric "Just around the corner to the light of day" gave me another boost -- the only thing that would have made the moment better would have been if the Bruce Springsteen version came up instead.

In Kamas, I bought a bagel at South Summit High School, which was a major stop on the route and someplace I'd get to revisit 11 years later to watch Michael play basketball. I went back to the van, ate the bagel, and fell asleep for an hour. I was probably about six hours away from my final leg.

By the later morning, I wasn't feeling tired anymore. We eventually drove into Park City, where I awaited my last leg. I got the wristband (instead of a baton) and took off, and for the first mile, I was going fast. The course was flat and even a little downhill through town, and eventually, I made it to a bike trail that would take me to the high school, where the finish line was. With about less than a mile left, a big hill came into view, causing me to swear out loud. I wanted the race to be over. 

Once on the high school grounds, the rest of the team saw me and we ran toward the finish line together. Our unofficial time was displayed on a clock as we approached the finish, and the competitive high school runner in me came to life as I started running faster to get a better time. My first Ragnar was over.

I fell asleep in the van ride down the mountain. At home, the neighbor who was watching the boys agreed to watch them a little longer while I slept some more and then drove to Five Guys to get a burger. The next day was Father's Day, and I was blessedly exhausted.

I ran the Wasatch Back the next two years. My 2010 experience was a mess -- we got stuck in traffic and I missed a start, my headlamp's batteries went out, and I crashed (not literally) on my last leg and felt slow, slow, slow. And I also couldn't sleep again. The 2011 race was better -- I saw a deer run across the road as I ran an overnight leg, and I ran a mostly downhill leg and felt swift. In 2012, I was dealing with a slight meniscus tear and dropped out a couple days before the race. I haven't run a Ragnar since.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to catch the metaphorical lightning with running that I did in 2009. Even the next two years, I didn't quite train as much and didn't feel as, well, powerful for the relay. I, frankly, looked terrific that summer and felt great (unfortunately, I can't find the picture after the race). That familiar frustration of falling off the running wagon returned. Whether the goal is consistent exercise (beyond walking) or eating better, my brain often gets in the way of my health.

Back in May, I started running a few days a week in the morning. I listened to podcasts or classic "American Top 40" and kept the intervals short -- I got up to 90 seconds running, 60 walking. Around August, the routine started to wane, and by September, the sunrises came later, and by inner clock kept me sleeping later.

That brief return -- perhaps the longest sustained running routine since 2012 -- felt great. How do I rediscover that? How do I eat healthier and sleep better?

Maybe I need an ominous relay of many miles and little sleep to inspire me again. I don't even know if there will be a Wasatch Back in 2021, so maybe just a 5K will do. Or maybe, just being 50 and wanting to feel like a high schooler again -- or just 38 -- will be motivation enough.