Me: So I Ragnared this weekend.
You: I KNOW. We’re Facebook friends, remember? You didn’t shut up about it. Like THROUGH THE NIGHT. I almost muted you.
Me: Oh right… sorry about that.
You: It’s cool. It’s not like it’s much different from your usual blabber-mouthyness. How did it go? You were a team captain this year, right?
Me: I was.
To tell you the truth, the last couple of months I was starting to wonder why I’d decided the whole ‘being in charge’ thing was a good idea. It was SO MUCH PRESSURE. Do I have everything organized and ready? Are the van personalities going to mesh? Is Will actually going to die during one of his runs? And then my runners started dropping like flies. We lost a runner due to a hamstring injury like five days before the event! I got to the point where I’d wake up in the middle of the night hoping my spleen was rupturing so I didn’t have to participate at all.
You: Well that’s sad and lame…
Me: Yeah. But then we got in the van Friday morning to head to our first exchange and I remembered: Ragnar is basically a two-day party with running. And um, I LOVE PARTIES. Plus running is pretty cool. So it was typically awesome.
You: I take it it ended up being pretty stress-free and smooth sailing?
Me: Um, OF COURSE IT DIDN’T. Have you met me? It was on the verge of total destruction and chaos, mixed with delirium and hilarity at basically every minute. But that’s kind of how I like things.
You: Alright, give me the highlights.
Me: OK, so next time I go to rent two gigantic vans from the shadiest car rental place ever, I’m going to remember to call my credit card company first so they don’t totally credit-block me because an out-of-character $1000+ charge to ‘Airport Rentals’ smells fishier than a Rocky Point taco stand.
You: Uh, oh…
Me: Yeah, it wasn’t stressful or humiliating at all to have to sit on the phone for 20 minutes with Bank of America while my dad, one of my teammates and two shady rental car agents all watched and wondered if someone was going to be required to cut my card in half while I cried at some point.
You: And that was before all of the running.
Me: I also learned static cling window decals will not stick to the paint of a moving vehicle more than 7.8 seconds.
You: Bye, bye van decorations.
Me: And apparently sliced summer sausage is not appropriate to store in the cooler with the waters and gatorades. I, personally, really like summer sausage, but my sister (the vegetarian) said it was like taking a bite of meat-flavored air every time she opened the cooler. I said, You’re welcome, but the rest of my van voted I’m not allowed to bring my favorite hiking snack: garlic Triscuits, summer sausage and spray cheese, in the van next year.
You: I think that sounds delicious.
Me: You are my best friend. We should totally eat awesome, smelly appetizers together.
You: How did the actual running go?
Me: The running was pretty good. Except our team name, Day Drinkers, just mostly made me depressed that we weren’t allowed to day-drink on the course.
You: Buzz-kill. Literally.
Me: The first set of legs was pretty strong, although van 1 started from Wickenburg at 6AM Friday and the temperature was in the high 20s. They were kind of crabby about that. And my sister’s first leg was 13.5 miles. So that was kind of miserable.
But she did get a special medal for it:
And the rest of us entertained ourselves while she was running for 2 hours:
When we were waiting for Lacey to come in from her first run so we could send Danielle (our pregnant runner, who should have gotten a special medal for being that hardcore) out, we saw a guy come in whose team wasn’t there to meet him. The poor dude just stood there and looked around like, Are you kidding me with this shit? It was the saddest.
Sarah and Danielle wanted to adopt him to our team because his team obviously didn’t appreciate his awesome hottness and studly-o-city enough to even be at the finish line when he was done. So for the rest of the day, whenever we saw him we referred to him as ‘the hot black guy’. You know, because we live in Mesa, AZ, so this is an identifying characteristic (I feel like explaining it is actually making it racist. And possibly a fair housing violation. I should have stopped two paragraphs ago. PUSHING THROUGH.) Eventually, though, Will decided this was both objectifying and racist and he deserved a real name, so he dubbed the hot, abandoned, black guy, ‘Antoine’. Because that’s not a completely weird stereotype at all. Sarah shortened it to Tone.
At the finish line when we were sitting around having our $1 beers:
Will: Hey, Sarah, your boyfriend, Tone is here. *Points to a guy a couple of tables away.*
Sarah: *Looks over her shoulder.* Will, you racist! That’s not Tone! That’s just a random black guy!
You: …that’s not an offensive story at all.
Me: OK, it’s not offensive to acknowledge that people have a skin color… I’ve dug this hole for myself haven’t I? It’s like the time when I called Sarah’s friend, Dawud, ‘monochromatic’ because he was wearing a dark brown shirt that like perfectly matched his skin tone and everyone acted like I’d told him to sit at the black table or something; WHICH I DID NOT BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE AND RACIST. IT’S NOT RACIST TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT SKIN HAS A COLOR.
You: Alright Shouty McGee, this is an awkward conversation.