This must have been early on, because everyone looks happy, and they can still jump.
DAVENPORT, Calif. — I have so much to catch you up on, including my fear of heights tested on a famous bridge and our van allegedly making contact with another van and phone numbers and license plates being exchanged. We are, after all, good citizens who do not leave the scene of an alleged accident. And, the other van’s occupants were right there.
CALISTOGA, Calif. — We haven’t had a van breakdown, as my headline would imply. The vans themselves are trouble. Let me explain. Each team has two vans, with six runners in each. Today, for instance, before we’d even gotten to the starting line, we missed a turn and went 10 miles the wrong way. That’s how it is for two straight days. You’re basically lost, driving a boat on wheels with six smelly, annoyed people in it. All the while having to stop constantly to provide cheers and water and an appropriately upbeat song for your runner on the course. (Again: No course. Running on side of road.)
The back half of the van is usually car sick. The front half of the van is sick of hearing the back half complain about it. By Sunday, you can feel the tension. Or sometimes people just scream at each other. The Relay usually starts out as the most team-oriented, feel-good event you’ve ever done, and by the end you find yourself punching someone for eating Doritos too loudly. It’s the dynamics of a marriage, condensed into one weekend.
NAPA, Calif. — I’ve tried on several occasions to explain the Relay for Organ Donation and it always comes out sounding crazy. There could be a reason for that.
It’s a race, of course, but I’m not exactly sure how it raises money or awareness for organ donation, other than each runner pays a mandatory $50 donation. On the awareness side, I’m sure there will be several drivers who over the next two days say, “Holy crap! I about hit a bald guy on the side of the road. Did you see that, Liz? What the hell was that guy doing?! Hope he’s got his things in order.”
