DC Ragnar by the Numbers

Ragnar  (RAG-nahr):  You and 11 of your closest friends running 200(ish) miles, day and night, relay-style, through some of the most scenic terrain North America could muster. Add in crazy runners, inside jokes and a mild case of sleep deprivation. The result? Some call it a slumber party without sleep, pillows or deodorant. We call it a Ragnar Relay.

My Ragnar experience by the numbers (the short version):

200 mile race--Cumberland, Maryland to DC

Team full of moms to 51 kids and counting
42 times I thought about flaking out beforehand

33 hours--it took us from beginning to end

13 miles total for me

12 "Hot Tamamas" on one team

6:00am start time

3 hours of sleep

2 vans driving us to our next legs

Runner #1--that's me! 

0.6 extra miles I ran when I got lost on a trail in the dark of the early morning

0 junk or dairy I ate in the week before the race

And here is a longer, more detailed report on my experience for those who just can't get enough Lara pictures: 
I was in van #1.  Both van #1 and #2 were decorated with the vinyl lettering just like this.  We got a lot of comments on the "51 kids and counting..." line on there.  That averages out to 4.25 kids per mom! 


Here are the girls in van #1 after decorating the car.  At this point none of us had run yet and we were NERVOUS. 


Our car decorations were mild compared to some of the vans we saw.  This one was one of our favorites: 

When we weren't running, we all wore matching Hot Tamama shirts and striped knee high socks. 


From the hours of 6:00pm - 7:30am all runners (even those not currently running) were required to wear their reflective vests, headlamps, and tail lights.   All three of my legs were between those hours, so I wore the whole get-up every time.  The vest was itchy and big and  the headlamp kept slipping on my sweaty forehead, but since two of my runs were on busy roads with narrow shoulders, I was happy to be a glowing light on the side of the road and not some sad looking roadkill.  (I'm the second from the right in this photo)

With heavy fog and clouds like this looming overhead for much of the race, we were seriously worried about getting dumped with rain.  Happily though,  other than a few of us running in a drizzle, the heavy downpours completely missed us.  And I'll take our 70 degree, cloudy/drizzly day any time over the 100 degree Ragnar some of my teammates ran last year. 

The race began in Cumberland, Maryland...a little town tucked away in the Appalachian Mountains.  The scenery was breathtaking, but being in the mountains meant that we had to run up and down those same beautiful mountains.   My legs weren't too horrible, but a few of my teammates had runs with elevation gains of 600-1200 feet, which made me tired just thinking about.  Here's a glimpse of the terrain that we were running in at the beginning of our race....

One of the hardest parts about the way the race is designed is that immediately after running your leg of the race and handing off the baton (which was really a slap bracelet), that instead of leisurely cooling down and "walking it off", you had to jump back in the car and make sure the next runner got to their leg on time.  We spent a lot of time here in my friend, Kim's van, and I daresay that by the end of it we were all a little loopy on snack foods, sleep deprivation, and runner's high.  There may or may not have been some potty humor, the occasional good-natured swearing, and lots and lots of laughter along the way.  

After running straight for 33 hours through the gorgeous mountains, cute little Civil War era towns, right by the DC temple,  and into the bustling city, the last runner finally sprinted across the finish line at the National Harbor of DC.  For as much fun as we had, we were completely  thrilled to finally be done with the race....

and more than happy to claim our awesome looking medals (which can double as beer openers in case you're wondering)...

At the finish line we snapped a few more pictures (like this one with my good friend Andrea)...



And this goofy looking group self-portrait....


And found one of our favorite team names of the race....Green Legs and Van. 


Then we rushed home to our awesome families who held down the fort while we were away for three days. Once home, it was a toss-up as to which would come first....shower or nap?  

(you can see which one won at our house)

All in all, I'd have to say that the race went swimmingly well ( or should I say runningly?). 

The weather was great, the company fun, we remained injury free, and best of all...
we did it! 

We ran 200 miles over hill and vale, through country, town, and big city and did it with smiles on our faces (at least most of the time anyway. )


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Battletime Strategy

1.  Asking nicely
2.  Lovingly sitting down with him at the table so as to be totally available to help
3.  Lightheartedly asking
3. Strongly encouraging
4.  Gently cajoling
5.  Canceling play dates
6.  Bribery with sugary snacks
7.  Telling him in a loud voice (aka yelling) that it's important for him to finish before bedtime
8.  Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth
9.  Throwing in the towel and encouraging him not to do it
10.  Earplugs

Heaven help me....

the homework battle has begun and it's not looking good for the grown ups in this house.    

Does anyone else find it ironic that some kids spend far more time and energy in their homework resistance efforts than in the time and effort it actually takes them to finish the homework? 

Then again, I've been told that I am a pretty gifted housework avoider myself.   

Homework, housework. 

At least he comes by it honestly.   


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A Confession to Make...

You know the story of the Princess and the Pea, where a girl tosses and turns all night because of one pea underneath her mattress? 

I always thought that that story was a little goofy,  but unbeknownst to myself,  I've accidentally discovered that the pea in the bedding method of determining royal status is as effective as any pedigree chart. 
 
Here's my story: 

You see, it all started off with a bag of chips. 

On Saturday, a bag of tortilla chips and a few other items were purchased at the grocery store.  Since chips in our house are a hot commodity, especially for a certain teen boy of ours,  we generally keep them hidden away in our bedroom.  That particular Saturday, we set the grocery bag on the bed and went on our merry way through the day.  Later on the chips were hidden and groceries put away. 

Fast forward to Monday afternoon and I am gathering the ingredients for dinner, but hard as I look, I just can't find one of the ingredients that I know was just bought.  After searching high and low, I suddenly have a revelation....

Check our bed, where the grocery bag had lain before putting everything away.   

So, I looked under the bed, behind the bed, and around the bed.

In desperation,  I even start stripping our very beautifully stylish bedding...

and LO and BEHOLD....

right smack underneath the very same pillow that I'd slept on the night before was the missing ingredient...

So,  to all of you who thought that my real name is Princess Lara Anne Elizabeth Mary Victoria  Georgina Kathryn Wilhelmina Marie Anastasia IV....

I hate to admit it, but I slept as soundly as a baby on my entire bag of peas.

Which meant the real princess got to come and reclaim her title from me....

But I'm okay with it now...

especially since I heard that the big, poofy princess dresses can get kind of itchy in the armpit. 

Plus I daresay she makes a much cuter princess anyway. 

Fishing: It's Like Riding a Bike

Once upon a time there was a cute little boy who loved to fish.  And not the wimpy kind of Velveeta-on-the-hook/ catch-any-fish-that-comes-along kind of fishing.  No.  Even as a little boy he did manly man fishing with grown up tied flies as the bait.  The kind of fishing that is an art form of trying to get the fly to land just perfectly on the water, so that all the fishies really think there is a fly landing gently on the water just waiting for them to eat.  After a few hours of his artful fishing was done and he had a few keeper trouts on the line, he would bring them back to the cabin for Grandma to fry up and eat for dinner.   No one, not even his own mother, could replicate the perfectly seasoned fried trout of his Grandma Loughton. 

When the boy grew up, he capitalized on his future wife's great love of the outdoors and penchant for men in tan vests, and wooed her with his he-man fishing skills every chance he got.  Of course he knew that his wooing would be in vain if he didn't let her have some of the fun herself, so being the gentleman that he was, he would let her reel in the big ones and then brag to everyone later about the big ones she almost caught. 

Later on, the starry eyed woman caught the biggest and best fish of her life when he asked her to be his fishing partner forever and ever. 

Fast forward a move that brought them a long way from the Rocky Mountain trout streams where he grew up and an unfortunate adult onset seafood allergy later, and it can be said that fishing has taken a back seat in that fish-loving boy's life.   

BUT.....

fishing is like riding a bike....

it never leaves you....

You put that boy back in the mountains.  Back to Macks Inn in Island Park. 

and it all comes right back to him lickety split. 

and just as thrilling as reeling in a big one of his own, he is thrilled to be passing on his love of fishing to his own children...

Hours and hours of our time in Idaho was spent fishing the crystal clear waters of Henry's Fork,

even by boat....

and when given a choice of activities for the day, invariably the kids would eagerly choose a day of fishing over anything else. 

What about me, you ask?  Do I like to fish? 

Well, I do like to document fish stories. 

You know, so the whole world can see the BIG one that we let go...

and this fierce looking fellow that almost pulled Adam into the water. 

Yep, me and my camera.  Pretty much we're  every fisherman's worst nightmare. 


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Watch Out K!

After twenty-some-odd years of being nice, Lara is up in arms and feeling primeval urges to beat up a sibling again. 

Grrrrr.....    Come on Kristina!  You know I can still take you. 

PS#1: The purpose of this post is to intimidate a certain someone whose name starts with "K" and ends with "ristina"  with physical injury, so that she'll be so terrified with fear, that  she won't be able to resist coming to visit ASAP.  Siblings seen in the above picture (as well as Matt, Heather, and Tim) are blameless for my wrath.

PS#2:  Nate, count yourself lucky that you popped on over from visiting your Ghanian "friend" when you did,  or you would be on my hit list as well. 

PS#3:  No siblings were maimed or disfigured in the making of this post. 

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In Yellowstone: What Goes Around, Comes Around

Almost thirty years ago, a cute little family piled into their Volvo station wagon and drove half-way across the country to visit some long-lost relatives.  Along the way, they stopped at a quaint little place called Yellowstone and visited the trusty Old Faithful geyser.    They gave the bubbling geyser its due by oohing and aahing at the right time, but mostly they wondered when it was going to be lunch time.   

Fast forward to 2011. 

Now that cute family is all grown up and living scattered between California and Maryland. 

The oldest in the group (the one in the picture who was already practicing for her future calling as nursery leader) grew up and decided that she wanted her family to see some of nature's wonders as well.  Never mind that they lived an additional 1000 miles away. 

This new family piled into their gray Toyota Sienna and drove 2000 miles to the same bubbling locale where they found cars from many places....


and animals large...

and not so large...


They hiked...

and posed....



and gazed in awe...



And when it was time to see the bubbling geyser, they steeled themselves in readiness...

got distracted by a little critter....

then oohed and aahed with proper devotion....

then promptly started whining about when it was going to be lunch time. 



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