The second I had a moment alone with Robert after our team finished Reach the Beach this year, I gripped him by the shoulders in our beachside hotel room, told him to look in my eyes and listen carefully, and spoke these words: "I'm never going to do this race again. No matter what I say, tomorrow, next week, next month, or next May, I am never doing this race again." And I forced him to nod and agree that he'd heard me.
It's good that I had that conversation with him. Reach the Beach is an incredibly difficult event. You run the equivalent of a half-marathon or more on virtually no sleep. You can't stretch out or cool down after your runs are over, because you have to jump in the van and head off to meet the next runner. You get crammed in a van with 5 or 6 of your closest friends (or people you've never met before) and try to behave like civilized humans while getting no sleep and taking baby-wipe baths to (try to) stay clean. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it's cold, and sometimes you run through blazing heat. You run afraid for your life (of moose, drunk drivers, and the Blair witch) on the middle-of-the-night legs, which are up to nine miles long.
But... it's so much fun! First of all, you get to casually tell all your friends, "I'm running in a 200-mile relay." And you burst with pride as their jaws drop in shock and awe. That's in the months leading up to the race. You train and get your body into great shape during the hottest months of the year, and get to be amazed at your own stamina and determination as you reach new heights of training.
Where else would you get to hang around talking about nothing but running for two days straight with people who know what you're talking about and actually enjoy talking with you about it? It's so much fun to chat with your teammates about the racing plans they have for the fall and the best training plans to follow.
For two days, you get to ride around in a van and act like a child, singing songs (The Final Countdown, anyone?), yelling out the windows, and laughing hysterically. You get to blame your ridiculous, juvenile behavior on sleep deprivation. It's great!
And in between the silly antics, you get to talk with your new closest friends about serious matters like work challenges, marriage issues, and the frustrations of trying to get pregnant. The camaraderie of RTB is definitely the thing that brought me back this year.
Robert, will you remind me again why I said I wouldn't do it next year?
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