Last year Leslie Mudgett talked me into running the Mt. Rainier to Pacific Coast relay (154.4 miles) as part a three-person team. After we recruited Larry Carroll as our third person and sent in our money, Leslie found out the Air Force was sending her to Kuwait for four months. Larry Carroll and I recruited Gene Blankenship for that third spot. We had fun in a sick and twisted sort of way. It rained the entire 21:45:35 we were running. Gene hurt his Achilles, while I didn't hurt anything specific; I just hurt. Larry... Well, nothing seems to affect Larry, he just kept cranking out the sub-eight-minute miles.

This year, Leslie was back. Her dream was to have an all-women's team which was fine with Larry because he would be running Western States three weeks before the relay. It was fine with Gene because he doesn't believe in running " those weird ultras". He was just doing it as a favor to us.

Leslie and I didn't have to look very far for our third woman. We just called Gunhild “Run-A-Marathon-A-Week” Swanson. Her only concern was if her son Chris Morlan's wedding would be on the same weekend. Immediately we called Chris and begged him to plan it for a different weekend. Knowing how important running is (since he runs a little himself), he and his bride, Melanie, obliged us (thanks you two).

We were set! Our training went well and we met for dinner to make our final plans. Since none of us cared which 11 legs we ran, we drew straws (which we totally changed by the time we reached the starting line).

Anyone who knows Gunhild knows she is part of a set. Her husband, Jack, was our driver/support crew. At our planning dinner he kept warning us that if any of us whined at all he would just throw us out the door. I looked around and couldn't see who would be doing any complaining, except maybe about being cheated out of a couple miles.

With our plans set and the Swanson's van loaded with every possible “necessity”, we left town on Thursday. That night we stayed at White Pass and then had a leisurely, beautiful two-hour drive to the start line in Ashford, WA.

I had drawn the first leg, but we decided I'd probably take off too hard, like I did last year. So we elected the queen of pacing, Gunhild, to start us off. We had a 2 p.m. start which is the first time slot. It was great to watch everyone take off racing and Gunhild cautiously crawling along at 7:55 pace. She began at the tail-end, but by the end of her 4.6 mile leg she was in third. The two teams in front of were both imports from Texas. Each leg they kept working at staying in front of us. Eventually, however, our even pacing paid off and we were leading the entire relay. As night fell I couldn't help wondering what the people driving past us thought. All they saw was a lone woman out on the highway in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night with a number on.

We knew the faster teams were catching us because we started to see their support vehicles. It became a game within our troika to not be the one who was caught. On leg 18, with two miles to go, I could see a flashlight behind me. I kept trying to run faster; but he closed slowly. With about 400 meters to go a team finally passed us. The runner (his second leg, my sixth of eleven) sprinted past me, motivated by the wild cheering of his team. I was road kill.

As the night wore on and the ocean loomed closer, I kept waiting for the pain I had experienced the previous year. Other than a brief 1.8 miles it never came. We each held our pace and we each kept smiles on our faces (I will admit a few of them were becoming a little more forced).

The weather this year was as beautiful as it was ugly last year. Every time I looked back during the early miles, there was Mt. Rainier (hence the first part of the relay's name). Last year all we saw of Mt. Rainier was a sign that said “Mt. Rainier 5 miles”.

The temperature did get up into the 80's during the first afternoon, but with Jack as our support crew we were well taken care of. As Gunhild was running, however, he kept telling her that he loved her. Leslie and I informed him that we felt she was getting preferential treatment. We told him we would like it if he would say that he liked us or at the very least, tolerated us. Jack, however, is not one to play favorites. For the rest of the relay he told each of us he loved us.

In the van the joviality never waned. It began before the starting line and escalated through the night. As the sun went down it began to get brisk. So we developed a system of changing our running bras right after our run so we wouldn't get chilled. Then we would hang them up in the back of the van. Jack made the mistake of suggesting to Gunhild that he could put hers on the heater of the dashboard and it would be nice and toasty. Poor Jack... since there was no favoritism on this team we all decided this was a great idea. Soon Jack was rotating three bras a piece for us. He was kind enough to only ever call us a little “gamey”. Gunhild was having so much fun with this she would sling hers at him (aiming at his head) and then warn him just after she shot it. Somewhere around 5 a.m. I asked Jack if this put a new meaning to “support crew”. This, of course, set us off on a new laughing rampage.

As the morning came we continued to hold our own against the 11-person teams. We finished 49th out of 113 teams. The final leg of this relay is on the beach. With a tenth of a mile to go Leslie and Gunhild were there to run in with me. As I was finishing, I couldn't help but be a little sad. We had the time of our lives. We probably won't ever do it again; it could never be more fun than it was this year. I also knew Leslie was moving back to Boston after our relay was over. Anyone who had the pleasure of meeting Leslie while she was in town knows why I was sad to see her leave. She is an exceptional human being.

Thanks you Leslie, Gunhild, and Jack for giving me one of my favorite running memories EVER.