Del Sol 2009 - JB

I can't believe another Ragnar has come and gone. Going into Del Sol, I admit that I had very, very low expectations. I mean, how cool can a run through the Arizona desert be? I was blown away.

While the Wasatch Back still stands alone as far as breathtaking scenery goes, you just can't beat the majestic location of the Del Sol starting area. I wish I had a picture of our first glimpse of the start line as we were driving up the 89 and saw the orange and white tents and pillars perched atop an overlook at Watson Lake. The water was glass, and rock formations that looked like freshly made drip castles framed the scene. Weather must have been mid to high 50's and clear. It was amazing and surreal.

We went through the start line motions and waited for the call to gather for the 9 am start. Trent busted out a couple of flawless cartwheels when our name was called to get the Chasquis just a little riled up...then we were off.

Leg 6 - 6 miles - hard
My first leg was a 6 miler that started on an old dirt highway, and man was I struggling at the beginning. The last time I had run six miles was back in November '08 when I ran a personal best at the Valley of Fire 10k. Nonetheless, I was off, and I wasn't going to stop.

The dirt surface sucked. Still fighting off a few lingering symptoms of bronchitis, the dust that the passing vans were kicking up wasn't helping out in the upper-respiratory department. But the Chasquis there for me, with frequent stops to offer hydration and support. Chasqui Amber even offered up a ski mask. Now that's camaraderie. Chasqui husbands Jon and Kyle also provided a huge lift - bumping some legitimate hip-hop and going crazy with the air horn at every chance.

I was on the dirt road for about three miles before I crossed the train tracks and found asphalt for the last half of my run. It was then that I was able to get my affairs in order, get into my groove and really start feeling it - and I was feeling good. I was holding steady at about a 9:35 pace, which, compared to my Wasatch runs, was smoking.

Then the sign came: ONE MILE LEFT TO GO. These signs should say, "And now, the longest mile of your life." Sure enough though, it was exactly a mile, and thank goodness, cause I was cooked. Then the weirdest thing happened. A few hundred feet out, I saw and heard the crowd. I saw Chasqui Sandy in the chute waiting for the baton. This was the first major exchange, so people were feeling it. Let's give them something to cheer about. I started sprinting. I don't know how or why, but I felt like I was bookin' it. I think the crowd got amped on it to, which was my goal. I flew threw the chute, barely making the hand off to Sandy, and then walked away from the crowd as quickly as possible so that, should I pass out, it would be less embarrassing.

And Van 2 was off...

Leg 18 - 3.4 miles - moderate
Geez, what a freaking train wreck. At the Wasatch Back, I ran 7 miles at 2 am in the morning and felt pretty good about it. You'd think I could run a 5k at like 11 pm.

This was a pretty hilly run - mostly uphilly. I was going good for the first 1.5 though. Then things started taking a turn for the worst.

This run was much like heading west on Blue Diamond Road. There are lots of kind of rural homes about 50-75 off the road. So, as I'm approaching one of these homes (reflective vest and headlamp bobbing with every stride, lest we forget), I start hearing barks. Quick barks, as in originating from more than one source. That's right - there were very protective dogs that were probably a little freaked out by this phantom light floating in the distance. Having suffered a dog attack on my mission, I am more than cautious and paranoid when it comes to strange animals. My pace quickened as I was striving to cross this home's driveway before they got there, but then slowed to a timid, cautious sidestep as they continued to chase me once I had passed. The four glowing eyes began closing in on me. At this point I came to a stopped and began charging right at them, and with one scream of the intimidating, penetrating-to-the-core phrase, "STOP IT!" The dogs relented and made their way back to their home.

Why did they not bug any runner before or after me? I know not. But I was a complete basketcase for the rest of my leg and was glad to see it end.

Leg 30 - 6.4 miles - hard
The third leg. This is when fatigue settles in. This is when the mind has to take over and running turns from a footrace into a mental battle. Remembering how tears were swelling up in my eyes (not because I was sad, or frustrated, but because I think I was going crazy) multiple times during my third leg of Wasatch Back, I knew this leg was going to be tough, and I had spent the morning preparing for it. I wasn't going to kill it, but it wasn't going to kill me either.

So I was off. This leg was 6.4 miles of pure hills - up, down, steep, gradual - they were all in there and there were lots of them. I was able to maintain my sub-10 minute pace (which was my unofficial goal for the whole race) for about the first three miles. Then the tank was empty and it was pure guts from there.

My pace slowed to around 11:20 and my Garmin kept reminding me to speed up, until I turned it off with about a mile left to run. It was about 85 degrees as I entered the Fountain Hills area. It was hot. Jon joined me at about the 1 mile sign and stayed with me for a good half mile, which was a huge help, and much appreciated.

I picked up the pace for about the past 50 yards and finished at the LDS church.

Van 1 was done with Ragnar Del Sol, and it was on to Mesa and an IHOP right around the corner from the finish line. I ordered a breakfast sampler and CLEANED PLATE. Later that night I slammed the smoked salmon with a side of sweet mash and banana pudding at Lucille's. It was awesome.

For me, this was a better experience than the Wasatch Back. Perhaps I was more prepared for what was to come. Maybe it's because I was in better shape. Who knows?

But it was a blast. And here's to a Chasqui team that I'd run with again on any given day.