What would Dude do?

Northwest Passage #2
He had to be the most enthusiastic parking attendant – ever.
“Dude!” he yelled with a grin, as we approached the start line of the Northwest Passage Ragnar Relay in our van of tired, tentative, mostly middle-aged weekend warriors. The charming volunteer, who became known as “Dude” to the Steel Gumbies, directed us to a parking lot, joked with us and told us to have a great race.
“He just totally brought me up,” said Richard Jacroux, who is the CFO of Cole and Weber United. “I’m going to hold onto that.”
Just putting together a 12-runner team for a Ragnar Relay is something of a challenge. In this case, that task fell to Ernie Neumann, the company’s I.T. guy. Not only did he work out the roster and logistics, he ran some of the toughest legs on the course (including a night time jog through the Haunted Forrest).
He also might want to consider a career in sales.
Several members of the Steel Gumbies signed up for the adventure based on his pitch.
“He said it was a journey of transformation,” said Joshua Medaris, who was the only other person besides me in Van 2 who didn’t work for Cole and Weber. He was a friend of Neumann’s and more a cyclist than a runner. “He said time didn’t matter, and it just sounded like something really cool…It did sound cool in February.”
When a friend sustained an injury, Neumann agreed to let a journalist join their journey of transformation. What they didn’t know, what none of us could know before embarking on this nearly 200-mile odyssey is the ways in which we would connect.
It seems ridiculous but the race brings out the best in people, even as you suffer through some pretty rough situations. Every one of us had that moment of doubt where you start questioning your sanity. What was I thinking? Who needs a journey of transformation anyway?
Richard’s questions came on his last leg of the race that took us from the Canadian border to Whedbey Island. It was his toughest run – six miles in the afternoon heat and plenty of hills. Add sleep deprivation and digestive issues and, well, just walking the route would have been a challenge.
But he had a goal. Do it at a 10-minute per mile pace for the team. We were, after all, struggling to hold onto our second-to-last place position. (We actually ended up finishing 198 out of 208 in just over 32 hours.)
“It was tougher than I thought,” Richard said of the relay. It’s not the distances that challenge runners, he said. It’s the timing of the runs, the fatigue and other factors that take both a mental and physical toll.
Luckily, Richard is the kind of guy who stock piles joy. He takes the happiness life hands him – even just a pleasant parking attendant – and he holds onto it like it’s an invaluable treasure. He points to his chest when he does it, and says something like, “I’m saving that one. Right here.”
When he lost a dear friend five years ago to Pancreatic cancer, he held onto the joy the two had shared while competing in triathlons. He held onto the love and laughs Andrew had given him in the years of navigating life together.
And when he talked about losing Andrew with a mutual friend, they two men discussed how they often saw Andrew in Eagles. It’s difficult to explain, but when they thought of him, they’d frequently see the majestic birds.
As Richard approached the first hill on his six-mile run it was sweltering. He pushed himself to keep the pace, to attain the goal. And then he heard it screaming. He looked up, and there, circling above him was an Eagle.
Richard defeated the hills, ran through the heat and achieved his goal – with nearly 20 seconds to spare.
Back in the van, he told me about seeing Andrew. He told me he had to summon Dude to find the will.
He pointed to his chest as he told me the story, like he was storing another treasure.
“Sometimes when you need it most,” he said. “Dude.”

Van 2 of Steel Gumbies – minus the reporter. From left, Joshua Medaris, Ernie Neumann, Richard Jacroux, Mike Osotio, and Christie Perkinson.