I was nervous. I was really nervous. It was fabulous to meet the teammates who I didn't know already, but I was definitely a bit intimidated by the experience and speed that many of them possess. I shouldn't have worried, though, as these gals all have hearts of gold big enough to support a newbie like myself.

We were adorned in fabulous sparkle skirts and argyle or striped knee-highs. We definitely win for being the best-looking team. The number of compliments and cat-calls we received were off the charts. I even got one along the lines of "Oh, you have some breaaaassssts! but I think that was not related to the skirts or socks. If anything, though, we're the ones who divvied out the most cheerleading for other teams, sometimes bordering on sexual harassment ("Oh, you GO girl. Check out your bootie! You GOOOOooooo!")

Towards the end of the race we "Acadia #2" chicks stationed ourselves at the top of a steep hill (which Emmie was running up) and did some booty-shaking dance moves for the struggling runners. We surely won Miss Congeniality, don't you think?

As for my own running, I'll admit I was the tortoise of the group. I worried about running out of gas at an inopportune time, so left a bunch in the tank. Nonetheless, I know I got some fabulous exercise.

LEG ONE:
During my first leg I had the privilege of running alongside vineyards in Napa. As I awaited the baton exchange, I felt ready to vomit. The race volunteer was very strict about where the exchange must take place, so that freaked me out a bit. It isn't surprising that I sort of flubbed grabbing the bracelet. I then took off! ... and promptly ended up at a red light. How anti-climatic. It took a long time to finally turn green, but when it did, I was off! This time for good.

I wore my Vibram 5 Fingers, which netted me plenty of compliments and curiosities, but also meant I ended up walking the last couple miles of my 5.6 mile leg because my feet were screaming from pebbles and glass shards. (The 5 Fingers protects the feet from any cuts, but the pressure of sharp objects can still be uncomfortable.) Really, I should have worked up slowly to attempt that sort of distance. Any barefoot running (whether truly barefoot or with something like 5 Fingers) must be done gradually. I was stubborn and should have switched to my regular shoes around mile 3. The wind wasn't on my side; nor was the scorching sun. But the scenery was gorgeous.

REST ONE:
After I completed my leg, I cheered on my other teammates. It was quite an adventure to drive the route, meet other runners at exchanges, and yell out our support to those on the course. When it was our time to rest, we first dined at Chipotle. We met the Marin County Sheriff who told us we could feel free to call her team at anytime for assistance, and encountered an interesting man who said he ran 100 miles "once" and then quit. This man explained we should use the art of "noodling" to go "25 miles an hour!" on downhill portions of trail runs. For fear of twisting my ankle in a divot, I think I'll avoid the noodle, Dude. After dinner we snuggled up in a little patch of grass underneath the gift shop at the Golden Gate Bridge. It was certainly a unique experience to find rest there.

LEG TWO:
I was frightened for my "middle of the night" 6.5 mile run, but as it turned out, a couple injuries (Sherry's dislocated shoulder, Marie's rolled-over ankle) and a few legs run slower than we anticipated pushed my start time towards sunrise. I started out by missing my exchange by about 10 seconds. Our van got lost, but our runner got lost, too. I had to go to the restroom, so ducked into the gas station at the exchange. When I returned a little longer than I had anticipated ahem I saw Meg approaching the exchange, but I wasn't fast enough to actually complete it. No matter, for this race person wasn't as strict as for my first leg.

I took off into the dark, a bit nervous about what I'd find.

I climbed a couple mild hills, and felt a little tired, but not horrific. Thankfully, the course soon went downhill, and I really felt alive because I could keep up a steady pace without much effort. The temperature was perfect. I wore all kinds of reflective-goodness and blinky-awesomeness, so knew I was very visible to cars. It was a relief to see I had plenty of shoulder.

I had been concerned about a portion of the course on a bike path because of its assumed inaccessibility to cars (and therefore compromised safety in isolation) but a member of my team thankfully offered to escort me. I was glad by this proposition for my well-being, but admittedly nervous because of my pride. I knew I'd have to run the whole bike path distance without walk-breaks so as not to seem wimpy, and I feared being so slow in comparison to my teammate. (In retrospect, it probably would have been great to have had a "pacer" in this regard.) Since the sun rose while I approached the path, it wasn't necessary to have an escort. "Acadia #2" drove ahead to check out the situation and was confident that I'd be safe.

Indeed, the path was visible for the majority of the street, even though it was fenced-off. Only a short portion was out of view, but in the daylight it was no problem. In fact, since it was light, I was able to see the gorgeous lake next to the bike path. While it was disappointing to be so "behind" with our time, I appreciated the beautiful view I wouldn't have otherwise seen. Of course I also enjoyed running as the sun rose. I got to see a spectacular view of San Bruno and the surrounding area awash in orange, red,and pink.

Before I turned onto the bike path, the driver of a black SUV called out to me. "Hey! That Ragnar vest you're wearing? It belongs to me. I lent it to your team. Please give it back to me now." He held out his hand.

Huh?

"I work for Ragnar!" the guy explained.

After a little bit of banter, I told the guy I was pretty sure he didn't give us a vest, and explained that a teammate (Kelly) had run Ragnar LA the previous weekend. "Oh, okay!" the guy told me. I then took off, because I had wasted enough time. Apparently he apologized to the team at the exchange.

But it wasn't the bike path or the unexpected discussion of a lighted vest that ultimately threw me. Nope, it was running through San Bruno towards Millbrae. You see, my grandma lived in San Bruno for over fifty years. My dad grew up in that small San Bruno house. Of course I have millions of memories of that house and of the very road I ended up running by. I have memories of wanting to go to IHOP, but my grandma insisting we go to another Millbrae pancake place. I have memories of my grandma forcing me to wear a really uncool scarf in public so that my ears wouldn't get cold. My grandma is now in a nursing home, too weak to insist I wear a headscarf. But I think she'd be pretty pleased that I wore a "safety-yellow" pullover, headlamp, LED vest, blinking bracelet, warm gloves and a fleece hat as I jogged by the place where her soul resided for so many years. As I ran by these familiar sights, I was really overcome with emotion. After all, running is solitary time. It is thinking time. It is an outpouring of adrenaline, and with it, emotions are at a high. While in motion, runners are simultaneously strong and vulnerable.

I reached the exchange rather exhausted. It was inspiring to see Brenna TAKE OFF and end up completing her leg rapidly and with enough energy to do a few heel-tapping jumps mid-run. Shortly thereafter, I fell asleep in the third row of the van, so didn't participate much in the cheering of the next two legs.

REST TWO:
We were close enough to the hotel to get a couple hours (a little less) rest in actual beds. When Emmie and I reached our room, I was perplexed: why hadn't housekeeping arrived yet? Stranger still, our sleeping bags were back in the room. Aha! Members of "Acadia #1" slept in our room! I had to shoo off housekeeping, but then I fell asleep until that darn alarm told me it was time to run yet again.

LEG THREE:
The map of my final leg warned of blind-turns. Indeed, this gorgeous 6.3 mile jaunt through the Santa Cruz mountains was filled with tiny and no-shouldered roads, often with blind turns. There were deep ditches and sometimes either creeks or crags next to the road. I attempted running on an incline to avoid the cars, but had I fallen off the side of the hill, I would have been road pizza, so didn't try to climb too high.

The first section of the run was pretty easy and amazing. It was downhill and only a couple turns were blind. There were portions of narrow-shoulder, but at least the cars, trucks, and motorcycles whizzing by could see me.

The second section went through the town of Boulder Creek where everyone was... um... stoned. It was definitely a country town with interesting art and culture, with even more interesting people. I definitely got funny looks and many comments as I ran by their downtown area. I would have thought that they would be aware of The Relay, but many of them thought I was just some random chick in sparkly attire, off to see a movie at their run-down cinema.

I passed a runner who was struggling, but his pride dictated that he pass me right back. I passed again, but when he sprinted ahead I let him go on, knowing we'd both become exhausted if we continued to tease each other like that.

The third section was scary. The term that I devised for my technique - "blind-corner fartlek" - is definitely funny, but in the moment, it was frightening. "Fartlek" means "speed play" in Swedish, and is meant to provide a "switch up" for runners. Doing regular intervals of fast-slow is great, and a big part of training, but "fartlek" is more random. Instead of a prescribed distance (or time) runners will select a landmark to sprint to, then recover, then go for another imprecise distance.

In my case, I looked over my shoulder before a blind curve to see if any cars were quickly approaching. When I felt that I had time, I then sprinted into the blind curve. I maintained my pace as quickly as I could until I was no longer blind to the cars behind me. I'd end up walking, sometimes painfully slowly, depending on how long my sprint had been. Each time I went into a sprint, it was uncertain how long I'd have to maintain the effort, since many of the curves continued to go around and around such that I'd still be blind to passing cars. Any straight part ended up being a very welcome relief. Although I got a pretty good workout from this, I think my heart's rapid pace was more out of fear of getting hit than anything else.

The exchange point wasn't blind. I saw it coming from a ways back, and it was a fabulous sight. Knowing that I was done and that I had successfully survived the blind curves, I went as fast I could to finish fabulously. I saw a few people on one side of the road cheering, and saw the race volunteer clapping as I arrived. I was flying! I was finishing! I was alive!

I smiled and turned to the other runners, who weren't my teammates. The race volunteer smiled and said, "Wow! You're speedy." (Well, yes, that part was speedy.) He then said, "But I have bad news." I laughed, "My van is gone, isn't it?" He nodded and offered to drive me to the next exchange point, but I declined since my phone was all sweaty and needed to be reset. Plus, I only had Brenna's number in it, and she was already on her next leg. I didn't want to confuse my van, so stayed put.

You see - we were lucky in that The Relay officials allowed the slower teams to "leap-frog" their legs towards the end such that we were able to start some runners simultaneously. While I was on the course, Brenna started her leg. The team then picked up Brenna at the end of her leg, and rotated back to get me.

(Meanwhile, the race volunteer packed up the exchange cones and signs. I was officially the last runner to complete Leg 33. I closed it out, Man!)

Although my team didn't see my strong finish, I know they were proud of me all the same.

We cheered on Emmie during her final - and brutal - leg, and then met "Acadia #1" shortly before the finish line to run as a team under the official banner.

We did it!

There followed a bit of controversy as we were listed on the DQ list for a volunteer who "failed to show," but with photographic evidence in pocket and insistence that he had indeed showed, we were awarded our medals. After some beer and burgers, I returned home, fell asleep, and awakened on Monday morning thinking that about a week had passed instead of just a couple days.

It still seems like some wacky dream, but I know in my heart that we actually did it. Plus I took home a good chunk of both vans' leftovers, so in my kitchen is proof that it was real.

Amazing.

Thanks to GM for use of two Acadias, Team Sparkle for our skirts, Luna bars, Owater, Country Inns, The Relay (for benefit of Organs R' Us), and of course the other 11 runners + Driver Jane + Exchange 11 Volunteers Extraordinaire Allison and Jeff. WHAT A TEAM! Learn more about the eat.blog.run sponsors over at Spectrum of Reviews