Why Runners Love 24-Hour Relays
A Full Day and Night in a Van Forges Fatigue and Lasting Friendships
Oct 29, 2008
Hood to Coast (H2C) from Mt. Hood to Seaside, Oregon accepts 1,000 teams and fills up in a day. Nearly 400 teams enter Reach the Beach (RTB) from Cannon Mountain to Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, the nation’s longest relay (212 miles).
Runners get hooked on 24-hour relays; they offer competition, adventure, and a heightened awareness of every mile and moment.
How 24-Hour Relay Races Work
In both HTC and RTB, a standard team has 12 runners (six each riding in two vans), each of whom runs three of the race’s 36 legs. Teams number runners 1-12 and race in that order (e.g. runner one does legs 1, 13, and 25) with 10-12 hours rest between runs. Legs vary in distance and difficulty, including short, ski mountain ascents, nine-mile meanders down country roads, and windy finishes along ocean-hugging highways.
Races begin just after dawn with teams sent in waves based on estimated pace. The slowest teams start first; top seeded teams usually leave in mid-afternoon.
Staggered starts bring relief to runners tired of the big city marathon stampede. “On my first leg, I ran eight miles and saw five other runners,” says Jim O’Brien, a retired IS manager from Huntington Valley, PA, who ran the 2008 RTB relay. “The sparsity of runners in the beautiful New Hampshire countryside makes this run great.”
Unique to 24-hour relays is the daylong trek towards inescapable dark. Night running (with reflective vests, headlamps, and flashers) is, for most, a new experience and a highlight. Hills are different in the dark, and running into the orange glow of a dead-calm town at midnight, the only sound shoes slapping pavement, can be dreamlike.
Life in and on the Van
Teams pick names and decorate or dress accordingly (e.g. longhorns on the Ambler Stampede van; RTB’s iconic team in pink tutus). Runners also mark the sides of vans with drawings, messages, and a running “road kill” (teams passed) tally.
Using two vans gives each half-team 5-6 hours to relax, eat, or sleep. Van life is close quarters; hygiene is a sponge bath with wipes, wet clothes stuffed into Ziploc bags. Food is endless pretzels, gummy bears, and M&Ms. Runners mold themselves on van benches to rest—fitful dozing cut short by a ring-tone signaling the next handoff.
The other depressing sound, the whoosh of the van door opening, follows. Slowly, runners crawl out and stand, quadriceps aching; even the fit wince with stiffness. Walking behind the van is work; a knee bend (forget deep) clutching the bumper a one-way trip. A third leg seems impossible. Starting a jog is like rocking a car out of deep snow.
But at the exchange zone, there’s cheering and waving as headlamps of approaching runners shimmer through the fog. There are smiles as the slap-bracelet baton is given over, and suddenly, there’s joy: this effort, this drama has outlasted the dark and is renewed.
Both H2C and RTB end at the ocean. When the last runner reaches the final path to the finish, 11 teammates fall in behind and they finish together.
Walking in proud agony over the sand, there’s a welling of emotion, a mix of fatigue, accomplishment, and camaraderie--the memories runners hold on to.
“What I enjoyed most was the team,” says Melanie Schranz, a project manager from Pennington, NJ, a veteran of both the RTB and H2C relays. “You really get to know these folks. Memories of running, no sleep, less than perfect food, smelly van -- those all fade; what remains is the friendships.”
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