Go, you chicken fat, go away!

That's right.  I said 8.01.  Hey, if Garmin is in my pocket and it's says 8.01 when I pull it out and stop it, I'm counting the 0.01 miles! 

This was a run with my Ragnar team.  We ran mostly along the Eastern Canal.  Right when we got to the turn around point, I excused myself to go potty.  I crossed the street to the graveyard and peed on some poor soul's grave.  And when I say I peed on their grave I mean I peed near their grave.  And when I say near their grave I mean on the other side of the graveyard wall.

I got ready to run this morning and my wife, bless her heart, brought me a delicious fluffy mushroom and asparagus omelet for breakfast.  How could I say no?  Besides, I'm in Ragnar training, and Ragnar is all about learning when and how much to eat.  After 9 Ragnars, I still haven't figured it out.  So I got ready to go, and the last thing my wife says to me is, "Don't let your heart explode on you."  What the hec_??!!??

Can't win for losing.  I'm gonna try running tomorrow.  Bronchitis sucks.  Please no pity comments.  Save them for RAD.  She just had a birthday.

Bronchitis and Ragnar don't mix.

But there was no way I was not going to run my 10th Ragnar.  Even if it meant being a liability for my team.  So, yeah, pretty selfish. 

My van consisted of everyone from last year except Michael Cottam took the place of Eddie the Turtle.  Glen the Gazelle called me a few days before the race.  Sadly, his oldest son who has been trying to have a kid since he got married had a stillborn child.  The funeral was supposed to be Saturday afternoon.  Glen had a choice to either not run or just run his first two legs.  I told him don't worry about it.  "You run my first leg, and I'll run your last leg."  Probably shoulda looked at how much running that was going to be for me.  My last leg was 7.6 miles.  His was 9.0.  The bad thing was the six straight miles of uphill.  But I thought if I could make it to the top, I'd be able to run the last six miles of downhill.  Yep.  That's what I thought.

Glen did great on his legs, as expected.  My first run wasn't until 8:30 at night.  I decided to go with the strategy I used at the Vegas Ragnar; run slow.  That seemed to work well for me then.  Also, I should carry a lot of fluids with me.  I think that was smart.  The nice thing about my first leg is that it was 5.7 miles and completely flat.  I didn't have my Garmin, but I was probably running a 9 min./mile.  The not so nice thing was that I started wheezing real bad.  I was hoping that exercising my lungs with some cardiovascular activity would help clear out my lungs.  It made it worse.  But ulitimately, I think it had to get worse before it got better.

Afterward I tried to keep my distance from my teammates because I knew the wheezing would be very obvious.  I couldn't hide it from Cottam.  He offered me a hit off his inhaler, but I never took it.  Should have.  However, I did get some rest.  I've never gotten that much sleep at a Ragnar before.  Being sick will do that for you.

Now came my last legs.  The first 4 miles were downhill.  Take it nice and easy, Burt, so you can conquer the next 6 uphill.  Then it's all downhill.  Even though I hacked up quite a bit while I was resting, the wheezing started again.  So, I started to pray.  Mostly that I wouldn't die and leave my family without a father.  It wasn't too long after that, that the lungs started to clear up.  Tender mercies.  Now I had to worry about whether or not my legs would hold out.  After all, I hadn't run for almost three weeks.

I got through the first four miles easily enough.  Then I started the grueling uphill.  Ouch.  I started eating Gu's, Shotblock, and Cliff Bars by the handful.  These were supposed to be non-support legs, but my team was supporting me.  After much effort, pain, time, and a little walking, I got to the top.  That was a moral victory.  I keep telling myself that.  I started running downhill and my hamstring kept seizing up on me.  Then I think my left foot's circulation was cut off.  It felt like lack of circulation, but it also felt like it might be a huge blister.  Anyway, the combination of the two started putting serious doubts in my head about being able to finish.  After a mile of downhill, I finally succumbed to those doubts.  I asked my van if anyone had anything left in them.  Shannon said she did.  I said okay, and I took off running a little faster knowing that I was about done and expecting them to drive a little further down the road to make the switch.  After about 200 yards I hear this voice behind me, "Wait!"  Shannon had jumped out there and chased me down.  Oh my golly, as my daughter says.  I gave her the baton and my reflective vest which fit her like a dress.  Then I hung my head in shame for the long walk back to the van.

I determined that there was no blister, so it must have been lack of circulation.  Now I felt like I should run a portion of someone else's legs to prove my worth to the team.  I did feel pretty much worthless.  Of course that would have totally been against the rules, but I felt pretty demoralized.  Shannon was our last runner, and Cottam was our first runner.  Cottam decided to take Shannon's last leg.  I offered to run the first 1.5 to 2 miles.  He said, "Well, I'm going into this with the idea of running the whole thing.  It's a mental thing.  If I don't go in it with that mindset, I won't be able to do it at all.  But if mind doesn't overcome matter, you can jump in."  Well, not only did Cottam run the whole thing, he dominated.  He ended up running over 24 miles.  I was really proud of my team for stepping up. 

So, there it is.  Finally.  10 Ragnars in the books.  Double digit club.  13 medals.  And a sad race report to go with it.  It's been two weeks.  I feel better now, but I'm so out of shape.  Time to start hitting the pavement again.