The Sawtooth Relay

It was 12:58.32 a.m. as I stood with 4 of my 5 teammates, all of whom I had met just a few hours before, in front of the Sawtooth Relay's starting line to take a picture.  Our other teammate had stayed in my black suburban with her 6-month-old baby, who was sleeping.  The 62 mile relay race was to begin in a minute and a half.  Lynette, who was to run the first leg, 5.96 miles, was ready to begin, adorned with her reflective vest, GPS running watch, and headlamp.  It was dark, pitch dark; there was no moon.

We had cheered her on as the starting buzzer sounded, watched her disappear in the darkness with the other runners, headlamp lights bouncing along as each set their pace and got into their groove.  The rest of us staggered back to the parking lot, tired, yet full of adrenaline as we knew our turn to hit the pavement would come quickly.  I had already been away from home for 6 hours, in the car, picking up the other girls along the way, and driving through Sun Valley and up to Stanley.  I was tired, but knew I probably would not be sleeping anytime soon.  

Lynette finished and Lindsey started.   5.83 miles was her leg.  Then Jess, 5.03 miles, then Irene, 4.43.  

Then it was my turn.  It was 4:45 a.m. and the eastern sky was beginning to lighten.  Thank goodness! I would run with the sunrise and not in the pitch dark like the previous 4 girls.  5.83 miles.   It was freezing; I could see my breath rise in the headlamp's beam.  I ran with my shuffle blaring All American Rejects in my right ear and the sound of morning birds in the my left (only one ear thing in).  As I passed mile marker 168, I tried not to think about the MOUNTAIN LION(!) that leaped in front of us and bounded across the road while we were driving to the starting line just 4 hours earlier, somewhere around mile marker 171.  No one was around me and I sort of shone my headlamp in the bushes beside me while I ran, just in case.

It was fully light as I finished my first leg and passed the baton (a neon yellow slap bracelet) to Annie, who was to climb 1331 feet, and 5.35 miles, to Galena Summit, before she would pass it back to Lynette for her 2nd leg.  We would all follow again in the same order.  A little slower this time.

Each of us ran about 10 miles (about 5 miles twice), then it was over.  From Stanley to Ketchum in just over 11 hours.  There was a little after party in Ketchum (Sun Valley) where we got our t-shirts, little medals, and food tickets, which I cashed in on right away, and beer tickets, which I threw in the trash.  We piled back into my suburban, sweaty and exhausted.  It would be still another 6 1/2 hours before I would be home.

On the way home, as everyone else slept and I listened to my iPod shuffle and ate cookie crumbs to keep me awake, I thought about whether or not it was worth it - 36 hours with no sleep, 21 hours in the car, pushing my body to exhaustion, sore hips and ankle, sore muscles, fear of being mountain lion breakfast, leaving my family, worrying about my suburban breaking down and leaving us all stranded, not to mention that I only knew one of the of the girls to begin with - to do this.  I am not a hard core runner.  Running is not my passion.  But I at least learned this: I can do hard things.