I landed in Denver and sent a Loop follow-up from the plane.
We were wrapping a sprint that would produce our first proper design demo. It was supposed to show the initial product clearly enough that we could keep testing it with people while we figured out the actual alpha build.
Then I left cell service to run across Colorado.
The Wild West Relay is 36 legs and 200 miles from Fort Collins to Steamboat Springs, crossing two mountain passes along the way. Our team, Rooster Bombs, had 12 runners and two vans. Each runner got three legs. Mine added up to just under 20 miles.
Five weeks earlier, I had sent the team my preferred assignments with one small request. I was healing a partial calf tear and trying to manage the total climbing. I also said I would make whatever worked, work.
My first leg was 4.64 miles in 30:56. It was the shortest of the three and a reasonably civilized way to begin.
The second was not. I ran 9.78 miles in 1:08:43, the longest and hardest effort of my relay. Then came the part unique to these events: stop running, get in the van, follow the course, try to eat something, and wait for your name to come around again.
My third leg started the next morning. It was 5.26 miles in 37:30. At that point there was no reason to protect energy for later. There was no later.
The three runs totaled 19.68 miles, 2:17:09 of moving time, and 827 feet of climbing. The team finished in 33:07:16. That put Rooster Bombs 27th overall and 17th in the 12-person co-ed division.
The numbers make the weekend look much cleaner than it felt. A relay is a group project with running added. The race keeps moving whether you are ready or not. Someone is always running, someone is driving, someone is trying to sleep, and someone has lost track of where the next exchange is.
It was also exactly the kind of weird endurance thing I love. Nobody on a 12-person team gets to claim 200 miles. Everybody gets to claim a small piece of it and the responsibility to hand the race to the next person.
At the finish in Steamboat, I took a photo with a teammate. We were wearing matching red shirts, medals, sunglasses, and the expressions of two people who had briefly forgotten what the inside of a van smelled like.
By Sunday night I was back in the world. Cell service returned. A proposal for the Loop alpha was waiting, and Caroline and I needed to review it on Monday.
I had a medal, a calf that held together, and an inbox exactly where I left it.