My Ragnar Story, Unfiltered

Caution: If you are ever offended by open discussions on bowel movements, don't read this post.

Many of you may have already seen the YouTube video of my first Ragnar experience. I think I've watched it 10 times. The terrain, the endurance, the smiles, the sweat--all of it makes me want to go back to the beginning of that race and do it again. However, the second morning of the race, I was sure I was done running for a while. Don't worry that didn't last long, but I think you'll understand why I initially felt that way when I tell you what happened.

The day was flawless. Or as I often say, it was just my flavor. I was enjoying Utah's tucked-back towns, the rolling green hills complemented by ragged mountain peaks, discovering new places, revisiting places where I made sweet memories and the company of 11 rockstars. I was anxious, twitchy even. An hour before the start of my first leg through Avon Pass, I was reverse hyperventilating. I was taking slow deep breaths, the kind of breaths that make your lungs feel like a balloon ready to burst. I just wanted to kill it and make everyone proud. It felt like just minutes later I was lacing up, inserting my ear buds, turning up Pitbull and stretching my hammies. I felt the snap of the hand-off bracelet on my wrist and I just went. The first mile was steeper than I imagined on a mud-dried trail, but I was thanking the heavens for cloud coverage at 3 p.m. I passed someone just a mile in and was feeling on top of it. The steep downhill full of loose rocks began and I soared. I met a clearing and saw the down into the most perfect valley, like a painting. I wasn't sure whether to speed up from the adrenaline or to slow down and take it all in. My team followed along cheering the entire way.

Soon after I landed on a flat road, and up in the distance I saw a white vehicle sitting perpendicular to the road. I didn't pay much attention, just kept plugging away, though I did start wondering how close I was to the end of this 7-mile run. I peered through the front windshield of this white car and saw a weird balding man with a really excited look on his face. Who was he waiting for? Then his head popped out of the driver's side window, and what do you know? It was my father-in-law, waving like a fool and shouting "We love you!" Dalton was in the back. How long had they been sitting there? Now, that's love everyone. My in-laws drove an hour out of their way to sit on the side of the road and wait for me to pass just so they could holler out the window. I was shocked and so happy. A few minutes later a passed a girl with very visible brown stains on the back of her running skirt. Yikes. Never, ever trust gas when you're running. Let's just say that when I was training, I ended up in park and gas station bathrooms a few times around mile 7.