Worst Parade Ever

From the Denver Post:

Meyer: Ragnar Relays' Colorado plan is bad way to do business

POSTED: 09/27/2011 01:00:00 AM MDT

By John Meyer
The Denver Post

There is a new player in Colorado relay running, and it is already making people angry even though its debut event is 10 months away.

Ragnar Relays, a Utah company that puts on 15 other relays in 13 states, made its first mistake when it scheduled its inaugural Colorado event for Aug. 3-4, 2012, the same weekend as the highly respected Wild West Relay.

Wild West Relay founder Paul Vanderheiden was outraged by what seemed like a blatant attempt to torpedo his event.

When Vanderheiden began spreading news about the conflict, Ragnar Relays founder Tanner Bell claimed it was an honest mistake and moved his event a week earlier (July 27-28). Bell said he originally picked the first weekend in August because this year's Wild West Relay was on the second weekend of August.

"We realized that we had scheduling conflicts with them," Bell said, "so we started working on moving the date."

Perhaps that mistake can be excused. But Bell did something else that has infuriated Vanderheiden and Jeff Suffolk, chief executive of the company that manages the Colorado Relay.

The Ragnar Relay will take 12-runner teams from Aspen to Breckenridge — pretty much the same route as the Colorado Relay (Aug. 24-25 next year), but in reverse.

This year's Colorado Relay went from Breckenridge to Snowmass, and Suffolk seems to be leaning to keeping that course next year.

"This is unbelievable that they're going to do this," Suffolk said of Ragnar. "If there is a race director code book, Paul and I abide by it. This is not abiding by the rule book."

Vanderheiden is more outspoken, even though it's Suffolk's route that is being poached.

"What people don't understand is how much time and how many miles driving it takes to recon a route, to see if there are appropriate areas (for) runner and van exchanges," said Vanderheiden, whose relay begins in Fort Collins and ends in Steamboat Springs. "Then you have to put the jigsaw puzzle together to make sure the legs are a reasonable distance, and that proper-sized exchanges are available. Then you have to contact land and business owners to get permission, and get permits from towns, counties, and state agencies.

"To just download another relay's maps to build a 'new' relay, with all the time and expense and legwork that it takes to design a route, is just plain unethical."

Bell ran the Colorado Relay last year.

"We gave him a free entry," Suffolk said. "We didn't know he was scouting our course. A week later he went and met with all the towns we ran through."

In his defense, Bell points out that last year's Colorado Relay went from Georgetown to Carbondale. That was the plan this year, until Suffolk's team was denied use of Guanella Pass two months before the race.

But whether the Colorado Relay is Georgetown-Carbondale or Breckenridge-Snowmass, Bell is still copying much of the route with his Aspen-Breckenridge plan. That bothers me, but Bell doesn't seem to see any problem with it.

"Frankly, I think even with somewhat of a similar course, I think we offer an experience that is unique," Bell said. "I actually think Ragnar is a tide that will lift all boats and everybody will benefit. There's an amazing experience to be had at the Colorado Relay, at Wild West and the Ragnar Relay."

The Ragnar Relay could have been even more "amazing" if Bell had spent the time and money to create a new route. Unlike many of my media brethren, I don't throw around knee-jerk accusations of "greed," but I think that might be the right word for what Bell is doing.

"Our mission is to offer a safe and incredibly beautiful, high-quality relay," Bell said. "With 200 miles of course, it's not unusual for relay races to have some crossover with races in the same market."

Come on, this is Colorado. You can't add a relay without repeating 170 miles of somebody else's event?

The name Ragnar, by the way, comes from a ninth-century Norse king.

"He was sort of a pirate, conqueror, wanderer, all-around wild man," Bell said.

A pirate? No kidding.

 

The last week in July I am supposed to run in the Colorado Ragnar Relay.  I didn't know what the Ragnar relays were until last August.  I had the joy of being on a highly successful Hood to Coast team, successful in my eyes because we got along better than most families and made plans for future relays.  All except for one of my teamates I met for the first time when they flew in from Arizona and Utah.  With the exception of our van captain (thank you, calming presence Karl) all had personalities that put the B in big (and I absolutely include myself in this group).  

We had the best damn time.  

Feel free to take a moment and howl at the moon about the disorganization of HtC.  I know 2011 was a particularly off year for them - 200 more vans than usual, etc. etc. With the exception of the very end, we ignored or bypassed many of Hood to Coast's trials and tribulations that filled the boards and fb pages afterwards.  At different points during the race, several people in our vans did talk about the relays they had done in other states (Utah, the Pacific passage, Arizona) through a company named Ragnar.

Ragnar was founded by two men, Tanner Bell and Dan Hill, in 2004. It is based out of Utah and currently has relay races in 13 states.  Over and over, I heard the words, "the most beautiful routes," and almost as important, "so well organized."  

Looking at Ragnar, unlike many races, relays or otherwise, it is clear it is a business first and foremost.   Its partnerships are not local nor is their primary goal fundraising. On its webpage it states it is partnered with NordicTrac, Suunto, Nathan, and Petzl. Its website is sleek and well-organized.  It is obvious it has ad money.  When I entered the words "Ragnar" into a Google search, the fourth item to pop up was an ESPN video diary of a Wasatch Back Ragnar run. 

 

 

These are facts, not indictments.  It is difficult to find anything negative written by the runners who have taken part in Ragnar relays.  Look at the video - the people involved are not just having fun - they're having the time of their lives.  I can attest to how much fun relays are.  When I was in the middle of one, I was thinking about my teammates and chocolate and how wonderful it felt to run after not sleeping (yep, we had reverted to 12-year-old slumber party participants).  Once immersed in the relay, very little energy was devoted to those putting on the race. 

But I'm not in the middle of a race now, and the above article our team captain's brother sent us (he's in Colorado) bothers me.   He also sent me the link to the Wild West Relay mentioned in the article, that has a message from the race director Paul Vanderheiden directed towards Ragnar.

Vanderheiden has much to say about his experience with Ragnar and none of it is positive. He flatly believes they came to the Colorado Relay with the intention of cannibalizing his race.  "A race director cannot trademark a route, and we certainly cannot reserve exclusive use of a date. However, there is an unwritten code of ethics between race directors that you don’t steal someone’s course, and you don’t piggy back on an established race’s date with a nearby, similar event."

Tanner Bell does not deny he ran the Colorado relay.  But he claims that even though 170 miles of his 200 mile event is the same route as the 9th annual WWR relay, his event will offer a different experience.

The back-and-fourth banter between Ragnar and WWR and the set up as David and Goliath is interesting.  I can't claim to know what was in the minds of either party as they went about setting up their race.  

I can certainly tell you what's in mine.  I want a well-run event.  But I don't run races because I want the loudest cheering section, the shiniest medal or the stadium finish (although stadium finishes are nice, thank you Eugene Marathon).  I run races because I like being part of a community IN a community.  I ran the Dirty 1/2 in Bend and we ate burritos and cookies made by supportive local folks afterwards who were fundraising for their schools.  I ran the Race for the Roses half because it was beautiful and also because the money went to Albertina-Kerr organization.   Hood to Coast, a joy ride if there ever was one, is really a fundraiser for cancer research.  If that goal felt too abstract after being awake for 22 hours, the presence of the local townspeople did not.  Waving at folks in the tiny town of Mist, Oregon as we ran past their fields felt good.  Even in a large event like the Chicago Marathon, I felt like the spectators came out to cheer me on during a marathon that was just as much theirs as mine.   

If the Ragnar organization ignores this community, or feels that their interests are incidental, then perhaps they are not the right race for me.  It's odd to realize that.  I'm sure they're well-run.  I'm sure I'd have a blast with my friends.   But I pick my races carefully and for many reasons and one of them is to be a part of something.  Ragnar, in business practice at least, seems to be the Carnival Cruise Line of relay races.  

That "Get Your Ass Across the Pass" race is looking mighty fun right now.

Morphing from a Runner to a Jogger and Back Again

Winter Solstice by Allison Constantino

It is nearly winter solstice and soon we will have light back.  Or more of it, anyway. Last night I took to the hills with my running companions, one of whom I hadn't seen since we ran Chicago in October.  That is the nature of running.  With a goal firmly in view, very little interrupts the running group.  In the months leading up to a marathon, we would run 20 miles in the lashing rain together.  Speed workouts started at 5:00 am due to work schedules and the entire group was always present.  Parents' visits, spouse's birthdays, moving house - all events worked around the running group's training schedule.  And I cannot emphasize enough - we were not and are not an elite running group.  This is what training involves, pure form.  

When the marathon is run and the goal is accomplished, there's a Rip Van Winkle effect. Runners open their eyes, look around and realize life has continued while they've been in training.   Or that's how I felt.  Not immediately.  Immediately after the marathon, I inevitably decide on my next event.   In our hotel room in Chicago the afternoon after our run, my friend Morgan and I, endorphin-drunk and immobile, decided on which Ragnar relay to do in July.  We could barely get our shoes off or move our legs into the shower yet a run over the Vail Mountain Pass at 12,000 ft. sounded more fun than a rollercoaster ride.  You get like that.  

And then you go home and you realize you don't have an immediate goal.  Or the running group whose been there supporting you like family for the past 6 months, aiming for the same finish line.  It's an odd feeling.

There has to be a goal, at least for me.  The runner whom we hadn't seen in months mentioned that since the marathon, he'd only run 10 times.  None of us judged him.   In this last week of December, we didn't so much feel like runners as joggers, and joggers who were struggling up a hill we had flown up only a few weeks before. 

November and December are deadly months for training.  Yes, it's cold and often wet. More importantly, it's the release of the Christmas beers.  Dark, beautiful, malty, beers. Beers that, when consumed in any capacity with friends, dampen one's desire to ever leave that warm wooden booth, so festive and stalwart against the winter chill.  The same can be said of "holiday cheer."  I'm a secular person living far from family, as are most of my friends.   Holidays start one week before Thanksgiving and end January 2nd.   My husband and I are well done with the drink bad liquor and eat junk food phase of our lives.  Instead, for two months we unabashedly overindulge in good liquor and good food.  We live in Oregon - the third holiday party we went to last week had different wines for every course and a frantic phone call from the woman making dessert as to whether an almond cake was too "matchy-matchy" with the main.  Sound pretentious?  Yep, like you wouldn't believe.  And good.  Oh so good one doesn't stop eating and you certainly don't say no to a tilted wine bottle.  Which is to say this: Running becomes less about training and more about a way to move the alcohol around in your bloodstream.  

I look at November and December as good breaks for my running muscles, bad for liver.  A friend said to me, "It's a 2-month much-needed vacation."  It is.  There's a reason the running calender slows down in these months.  I'm listening.  In between bites, I'm paying attention.  

I look forward to January.  For the first time in months, my running group spoke about future events and a plan for January training as opposed to the latest festivity taking place (no insult to the group - I'm usually the one leading the holiday-glug conversation).   I believe at least two of us will be completing the Eugene marathon on April 29th, an event I am VERY excited about.  With that goal definite, I'll have a training plan.  Wednesday longer run, Thursday speed, Saturday long runs.  And somewhere, perhaps with the help of this blog, I'll even convince myself to return to X-fit.  That's another post.  I. Hate. Cross-training.  

Life has been fun.  Time for the focus to return.

It's Not Why Do I Run, It's Why Don't You?

When I began this blog, I sternly said to myself, "You will not rant."  I quickly modified that statement to, "All the time."  I used to be quite the ranter.  Growing up, ranting was most of my personality.  Words left my mouth in paragraph form, usually complemented by angry facial expressions.  It took years and years of working in social services for this part of me to ebb and eventually quiet.  I realized how much I disliked, no, hated being lectured, yelled and ranted at - by clients, by patronizing heads of nonprofits, by "good samaritans" (really, good samaritans are the worst.  Don't stand on the street corner with the first homeless person you've bothered to recognize in your privileged life, call up a government agency or nonprofit on your iphone and demand instantaneous help, find out that you voted away any semblance of a safety net years ago and then turn all righteous that we can't help the one person you've personally taken an interest in.  Wait, oh my god, was that a rant???).   So I toned it down.  Toning it down helped me actually examine the rant.

Most rants start with a question.  Very few people walk up to their audience, reach down into the depths of their red hot anger and pull open the vent (political candidates and Missouri football fans excluded).  No, most people start with a question and then ignore your answer.  It's an opening.  For example, at the get-together I attended a few days ago, when the guy in the GoDaddy tee-shirt said to me, "Why do you run?" I knew I was in for a full-fledged speil.

I've been asked that question ever since I was a kid.  Some people are genuinely curious, most people are just making conversation, some people feel the need to explain why they don't run.  And some, like the gentleman sitting on the couch preparing to pounce, believe others need to personally justify their lives to him.  Makes no difference what answer leaves your mouth; he's not listening.  He's revving up.  

"Never know when you'll have to outrun those zombies." I replied with a winning smile (I hoped).  He blinked for a minute.  He heard the word zombie but nothing else.  

"Uh-huh.  I think running is..." And he was off, like the slow guy who cuts in front at the start of a 1/2 marathon simply so he can be in the picture.  Started off full of chest and gumption and speed at the beginning, died off quickly once I began texting in the middle of his speech.

His rant is unimportant here.   Something about him driving and runners getting in the way of his car.  You know, him sitting on the couch basically whining, "I'm insecure! I'm insecure!  I'm insecure!"

I did want a better answer to the question, though.  Why do I run?  For me, the answer more would be, why wouldn't I run?  Or why wouldn't anybody run?  I can understand not finding the joy in it.   I don't find cooking particularly fun or joyful personally, but I know how to do it.   It's a survival skill.  So is running.  It's as basic as walking, or using a fork or a chopstick to place food into your mouth.  When someone asks me why do I run, they're basically asking me why did I acquire and nurture my basic skill set.  

At some point in my past, I also understood that even if I didn't have the money for a car, I had the ability to walk or run anywhere I wanted to.  And as much as I loved to ride my bike, I could not sustain the continued upkeep/update to stay competitive in the cycling world.  Running for me became more than a skill.  It became freedom.

All this is difficult to say even when not being talked at by a ranter.  Any discussion related to health or exercise is pitted with personal upheaval and extremes.  I feel my answer is simple: we should all be able to run.   The response, however, may be loaded.

Running is the epitome of self-sufficiency.  There was a fairly startling statistic not too long ago about how many folks in this country couldn't run a mile.  As I have a rather apocalyptic mindset (see answer to the ranter at beginning of post.  I was only half-kidding), my brain immediately flips to survival scenarios.  What if you were being chased and had to run for your life?  What if you had to save someone and run for help?  What if your car broke down in the winter and you had to run for help or freeze?  (Hey, it could happen!) And you can't run four laps around a mall because you think running is stupid?  

Running is about self-sufficiency in its most basic and apolitical form - I can take myself from point A to point B without the aid of tools or mechanisms.    We were meant to do it.  It's not a matter of wanting to or asking ourselves WHY we should do it. Run. Walk outside, look towards the horizon and run to it.  Get tired, stop.  Repeat until you find joy.

   

I Can't Do What With My Uniform?

Last week an interview with Lauren Fleshman in Track and Field News related to sponsorship and athletes caught my attention.  It was reposted on LetsRun.Com ( http://www.trackandfieldnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&id=952&Itemid=118).  

Lauren Fleshman is an interesting individual, an accomplished track and field star who finished 7th in the 5000 meter final in 2011 IAAF Championships, the highest ever for someone from the United States.  Upon completion of that race, she determined it was strength she needed to compete at a higher level and controversially decided to attempt a marathon, more specifically the ING NYC Marathon, a distance she had never run before.  Her entertaining and well-written blog,

http://asklaurenfleshman.com/journal/, documents her training and experiencing running the marathon.   She was the 16th woman to cross the finish line.

The article in T&FN is partly about an occurrence between Lauren and marathon officials immediately prior to the marathon. Fleshman is part owner of Picky Bars, an energy bar company.  She had put fake tattoos on her body advertising her business. She was informed by officials while in the elite runners tent that her the tattoos would need to be removed or she would be disqualified from the race.  At nearly the same time in Seattle at the Club Cross-Country Championships, the USATF enforced previously ignored uniform rules.  Runners were forced to remove all mention of sponsors larger than 40 cm from their uniforms.   

Fleshman was understandably perturbed by the ING NYC official's and USATF's actions.  Her predicament made me think about being a successful athlete and being a financially secure one.  Running doesn't strike me as a sport athletes enter with the intent of getting rich.  Even the largest pots of gold are at the end of a very long rainbow and are less than the signing bonuses of your average 21-year-old 1st draft MLB rookie.  

To aim for elite status, any athlete must first develop their skills.  Development in most major sports takes place in high school and college.  There are scholarships and trophies.  For some athletes, there is the glory of playing in front of 100,000 person stadiums or in front of an estimated 84 million television viewers during March Madness.  And if you're a runner, you get to look forward to the crowds at the track championships in Eugene.  This euphoria should be acknowledged but not banked on.  I have heard it said that we cannot compare other sports to running; apples and oranges, so to speak.  Nonsense.   Baseball players and runners are both athletes and we expect nothing less than glory from them.  The difference being that with the current rules USATF has in place the runner is also expected to work a full-time job in order to get that glory. 

Upon completion of academics, sport ends for most athletes.  They either go "pro" in some capacity or they go home and live with the memories.  Not true for the want-to-be elite runner.  Elite runners, especially elite women, improve their running times as they age.  Paula Radcliffe, currently the fastest women's marathoner ever (and I'm going with the actual fastest - 2:15:25 in London) was 31.  Kara Goucher and Shalane Flanagan, arguably the fastest American women runners at this writing, are both out of their 20s.  These runners have financial standing because they have sponsorship, a rare thing in the running world. But is it feasible or wise for the hundreds whose names are not known and are attempting to develop their skill to delay financial stability?  And why would a club or a business sponsor them if they have no way to advertise?

"Shoe sponsors are cutting way way back due to their financial restraints which has created a situation where there is no more development. The cream of the crop get absolutely everything and now there are only enough resources for half the cream!" Fleshman states in the T&FN article.    

It would be interesting to see how actual runners, and not a governing body, would deal with sponsorship and development.  As they're expertise is running, then perhaps we would see more businesses like Fleshman's Picky Bars.  Maybe runners would take it to an extreme and become walking billboards, as would seem to be the USATF's fear.  I don't know, though I can't see the Track and Field Championships turning into NASCAR.  Frankly, not enough people are interested.  Maybe there aren't enough beer commercials for them.