Crisis

In any good tale of adventure there comes a moment when the characters face a moment of crisis, something that challenges them as they consider whether or not to keep going. Going in, I expected that we would hit a wall somewhere after the first 24 hours of running when we would have to deal with the double fatigue of reduced sleep and tired legs. What I didn't expect was that the crisis would come shortly after I wrote my blog post about our first leg of the run. As we prepared to take the hand off from the other van load of runners, one of our own started throwing up. And she didn't stop. 

Earlier in the week, Amy had nursed her kids through a particularly nasty Norovirus (otherwise known as the stomach flu). That nasty bug had hunkered down and bided its time, waiting until this moment to hit Amy full force. The only thing worse than listening to someone repeatedly empty the contents of their stomach with violent heaves is making that sound yourself. It was awful. Not only did we need to get Amy off the course, we had to figure out what to do about her absence.

Thankfully, we were at one of the checkpoints and were able to work with the relay organizers to get Amy settled until her husband could drive up from Des Moines to bring her home. Initially she thought if she got a hotel room and rode out the worst of her sickness Friday night, she might be able to rejoin us on Saturday and help with the running. There was no way. Not only would that have been logistically complicated, it's no way to recover from a Norovirus.

So we did the only thing we could... we quit. NO! Of course we didn't quit. There was no grand plan, no extended strategy session for figuring out how to finish. We just acknowledged that we were going to have to run a little further, starting with the leg in front of us. We'd each pull 7 miles instead of the 5.5 that we'd been running. It wasn't impossible. But it wasn't easy either. I kept wondering when I'd our car waiting by the side of the road with the next runner. I could do seven miles now, but how would I hold up 24 hours from now when the crisis of compounded fatigue set in. 

The answer to that, it turns out, was easier than it seemed.

First Leg

The big question that began to loom as the date for the relay got closer and closer was, "are we going to have 12," meaning twelve runners- the maximum number allowed per team. As it turned out the answer to that question was no. We approached enough people to fill out two full teams, but in the end we came up short. We were lucky then that the Relay organizers put us in touch with a group out of the Des Moines area that wanted to do the relay, but didn't have near enough for a team. This group came to be known to us as the Des Moines four. Then, there were three. Until this morning we their existence seemed like an ethereal thing. Now known to us as Tim, Mark, and Amy- they were, until we met up with them at the Floyd Monument simply the (now) Des Moines three. How grateful I am to have them on our team.

We checked in, got our t-shirts (first, what confidence that we'll finish) and heard the orientation from one of the organizers. Then it was time to send Micah out for the first five miles. It took him up and down the steep hills of Glen Ave. and its detour, out Morningside Ave. past the Hwy 20 bypass, past the funeral home and Memorial Park cemetery. We drove out to the 5 mile mark and waited.

It was a beautiful day to run. On the cool side with a gentle breeze. Enough sun to be warm, but enough clouds to create the occasional cover. Micah rolled up the road and handed the GPS tracker to Mark for the next 5 miles. 

In Bronson we parked at a nice little park with a baseball diamond. The van caught up with us and they broke out the frisbee. Meanwhile I was itching to go. Eager to put in my five. The chance came soon enough and I was off, GPS hooked to my shorts, earphones in, Foo Fighters driving me up the first hill with Monkey Wrench. I know my running playlist, know what songs correspond, roughly, with distance.  As I came over the crest of a hill I was only a few songs in but there was my team on the side of the road with another crew. That is one of the great things about this so far- the other teams, the other runners. There are some wonderfully weird and playful people out here with us. I knew I couldn't be at five miles. They had just stopped to cheer me one- which was nice.

I wrapped up the first leg soon enough. The last two runners from our vehicle took their turns and we were done for the next four hours. We diverted up to Correctionville for lunch at the Cosmos Lounge- Reuben sandwich for me. We talked nutrition and beer and strategies for sleep. With bellies full of fried food, we made our way back to the course to check in with the rest of team before finding a spot for a quick nap before taking up the second leg of our trek across Iowa.

Team Telos (to the end)

Late last year, about a month after we brought our son home from Ethiopia, I attended a CREDO event in North Carolina. CREDO began in the Episcopal church as a way of addressing clergy burn-out and was so successful that it was adopted for use in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) by our Board of Pensions. Pastors who attend are asked to examine where they are vocationally, financially, spiritually and with their physical health. It was a great experience and much needed after a particularly draining year both personally and professionally.

Here's the thing when clergy get together, particularly when they get together in a setting like this- so many of us are so grateful for the chance to step away that while we may talk some shop (tell me about your church, how long have you been there, etc.) it's nice to talk about other things, non-church things. In the course of this week I spent some time talking about the book that I'd just finished, Born to Run, and how it had piqued my interest in running. 

I've never been a runner. Didn't run track, or cross country, none of it. What's the old joke, if you see me running you better run too because it means something's chasing me? My preferred method of exercise was in the pool, or on a bike. Then a friend invited me to her boot camp exercise class and I began some more intensive training. That lead me to consider doing my first sprint triathlon. Sprint events are a good way to ease into triathlon. I did my first two days after I turned 40 (can you say, "mid-life crisis?"). It's a ridiculously easy swim, 15 miles on the bike and a 5K. It was the running that intimidated me. Then I met a guy who recommended the book Chi Running. It was revolutionary for me. It took the fear out of running for me.

Back to North Carolina and CREDO. We were sitting around and I struck up a conversation with a fellow pastor about running. We talked events. For me it was triathlon, for her it was Ragnar relays. The relay bit caught my attention because I'd been seeing facebook ads for relay runs in my area and was intrigued. This led to a conversation about Relay Iowa- a 3 day, 2 night run across the state, non-stop. Wouldn't it be fun, we said, to get a group of Presbyterians together and do it as a 12-person team?

That number was important. We're talking 336 miles. While I like running I'm no marathoner, or ultra-runner. But sharing the load, breaking up the miles, that sounded like fun. Well, to me anyway. Finding ten other people to share our interest proved a little more difficult than we imagined. But we gave it our best.

My team co-captain from CREDO, Heather, did a better job at recruiting than I did. Although by my count I talked to no less than eleven people who turned me down for various reasons. Hard to get pastors to take a weekend off in June (wedding season!).

But now here I am the morning of the run. Our team is Team Telos, named for the Greek word for ultimate purpose, or end. There are ten of us, cobbled together. In a way it's a metaphor for the church- a random collection of people drawn together for a common goal. Our goal is to make it to Dubuque. The goal of those called to be the church is the realization of the Kingdom of God on earth, as it is in heaven. Interestingly, our route takes us past Dyersville, IA and the Field of Dreams. "Is this heaven?" "No. It's Iowa." Here we go!