TIR: You've Been Rogue'd!
By Laura Benold, Communications Director & Coach
The Texas Independence Relay seemed like a distant adventure in December when eleven of my friends and I decided to undertake it. Only a couple of months later, we packed vans and headed to Gonzales for the start. The night before our departure, the whole crew brought the contents of our group packing list to Jenn and Scott’s house where we had a pizza party and prepared two vans for the weekend. Fifteen passenger vans seem huge when they’re empty, but they are tiny when you cross them with twelve runners and a mountain of food. After *finally* stuffing everything under seats, in the back, behind every nook of the van and even on our laps, we headed out at just after four in the morning.
Only a short couple of hours down the road, we arrived in Gonzales. Jenn lit the cannon to start our team off and, with a bone shaking boom, we began our journey. The team ran one mile or so around the town together, and then Colin took off on the first solo leg of the race. The vans stayed together for most of the trip, tagging each other up and down the highway, through tiny towns. Some highlights (among many):
Butter & Borden: We arrived in Borden and, for the time, were lucky enough to be the leisure van. Borden was the absolute best time of the trip. It was the kind of thing that no amount of planning can account for or replicate. A town of 22 people showed up with DJ Butter, burgers on the grill and lights strung all around. We received directions from a man in wooden clogs, parked, and immediately joined the festivities. After meeting some of the town at the grill and after a few beers, Borden felt like a party. DJ “Butter Bartech” added an element of hilarity that surprised us all. She fulfilled a request for “Stayin’ Alive”, Colin’s theme song, and we became fast friends. In Borden, Governor Rick Perry caught us. For my friend Scott, I said, “Gov, get your head in the game!” and was only a little surprised when Perry said, “what game?” Um, the 200+ mile game you’re living right now. *sigh* Texas Governors.
Armadillo: Resting in the van for a little cat nap after my night shift, I laid down in the back and settled in to hear the silly banter of my front seat friends. They cheered and chatted, I fell in and out of sleep, and then I heard a very nonchalant “armadillo” from Jenn. Only seconds later, Joe hit the said armadillo, and I felt the animal come to an untimely death under the back wheel. I felt the armor of that Texas creature, and it was not pretty. Of course, Joe says, “woah… actual Rogue kill” and the van erupted in laughter. Not that death of any kind humors them, but the comment was too funny. Even I cracked in the back seat and ended up doubled over. So, not only did we “Rogue kill” in the race by passing other runners, but we also produced the actual stuff: road kill with a Rogue signature.
Van In The Mud: On one of the night shifts, while we waited for Lorrie to finish her leg, Joe came over with surprising news: “one of the vans has been stolen, and they’re talking to the police right now!” Of course, it seemed like a long shot, but we were delirious, so we thought it might be true. One of the participants said to the police, “it’s a fifteen passenger, white Ford van” as though we all weren’t surrounded by them. She could have said, “look in any direction and that’s what I’m missing.” Jenn and I wondered how it could be possible; how could someone misplace their huge van full of race supplies, and even runners? As it turns out, the van was stuck at the bottom of the ditch in the mud. I think that might have slowed them down...
“You’ve Been Rogue’d”: In an effort to win the spirit award (still pending…) and assert our Rogue pride, the Rogue Rogues decided to tag other vans. Call it vandalism, call it defacing, but we call it “Roguing” and a hell of a lot of fun. Jenn brought some multi-colored window markers, which we handed around before each exchange point as ammunition. We sprung from the car doors and immediately approached every car possible to tag them with the Rogue crown logo and a little note: “you’ve been Rogue’d”. At first, it took some saavy. We lay in wait until a van or car was left abandoned, and then we’d strike! I made the first attack and, with that giddy cracked out feeling produced by a sense of danger and adventure, I Rogue’d the camera man’s car. From there, Jenn and I teamed up to make vans colorful, Suz made use of her trademark “quickie” crown and we got sixty vehicles in total. We intended to Rogue 158, but night came and, when we could’ve done the most damage, we were barely standing. After all of our attacking, some of it came back to us. The Chupacabras drew their mascot, we were “appled”, and our friend Joey from team No Big Deal responded to the “Rogue = #1″ quote on our van with “TBD, Bitches”. In the end, Colin smoked him.
“Woo”: Our team has amazing spirit. We were the only group I saw with at least one person out of the vehicle, cheering their runner on at every exchange and many points in between. In fact, our cheering was so intense that it wore us out completele and, by the middle of the night, we could barely keep our eyes open. It was finally Colin’s turn. He hopped out on the road and started his run. Meanwhile, we all started to snooze in the van, except for Super Joe who had to drive. When we arrived at the place where we would check on Colin half way, only Joe could muster the energy to get out of the van and show some spirit. The rest of us, exhausted but guilty, each let out a wimpy “woo” that, as Colin describes it, sounded like cows. It was our weakest spirit moment, but I do distinctly remember thinking that I had given that “woo” everything I had and needed to recover a bit before considering any more activity or speech.
On the whole, our experience was one of great camaraderie, challenge, and silly fun. I knew we would have a good time, but the trip still managed to exceed my expectations. The hardest run was in Houston in 80+ degree weather and humidity, but I showed myself that I could do it, even when I didn’t want to. I hate running alone, but I did, and my friends actually brought tears to my eyes with overwhelming support on that leg of the trip. The greatest thing about our group is that we turn negatives into positives, like our inability to find I-90A turning into one of the most memorable comedic moments of the whole trip and our difficult Houston runs turning into the most memorable moments of support. In my life, I find that these friends of mine do the same thing: they take something ordinary and make it into an extraordinary, look-forward-to-waking-up kind of thing.
