Bandera 50k

The Bandera mud run 50k finally happened this past Saturday.  I had been thinking about this race since I ran the 25k last year (my first ever trail race), and it's a little hard to believe that it's already come and gone.  Though, it definitely very much happened....I have the scrapes and blisters and chafing to prove it.

The weather reports had been all over the place leading up to the race.  The first one when we were 10 days out predicted a low of 23 degrees and a high of 72.  What?  How do you plan for that when you're expecting to run for at least 5 hours and with a temperature range like that, you'll likely start at about 25 and end at 65 degrees?  It's just not possible.  As the day got closer, though, the reports became a little more reasonable, settling at a low of 37 and high of 62 for a few days.  Thirty-seven sounds cold, but when you're running, 40-45 degrees or so is about perfect.  By the day before, however, the reports were calling for temps between 58 and 62 (read: hot in running terms) and there was a chance of rain, though, it was low and not supposed to start till later in the day, so overall, it would be warm but otherwise not too terrible.

Well, my roommate and I were the first ones to Bandera on Friday afternoon, and so we started setting up our camp.  We had a whole big crew meeting us down there, mostly a bunch of other folks from our boot camp where we work (Synergy Fitness), but I also knew a few folks from my other running group that were coming down and a few more folks from Austin as well.  I love that I'm knowing more and more people in the running community and seeing more and more friendly faces before, during and after the races.  But I digress...

Home sweet camp

We got our campsite set up, picked up our packets (coincidentally, my bib number was my goal time) and listened to the trail briefing before a few of us went into town for a pasta dinner at a local restaurant.  Afterward, I got dropped back off at the campsite, put my drop bag together, laid out all my clothes, my shoes, bib, watch, chip, etc.  I tried to hang out for a little bit with everyone, but I was getting pretty nervous, and I wanted a good night sleep before my 5 AM wake-up, so I crawled in my tent and put my headphones on and listened to some calming/motivating music before falling asleep early.

My race packet including my bib, which was, coincidentally, my goal time

At about 5AM, I'm awakened to the sound of rain.  Oh no!!  Please don't tell me it's raining!  Well, it wasn't, thank goodness, but it had rained during the night and everything was soaked (note to self: add 'new tent' to list of things to eventually buy).  I was dry because my sleeping bag was on top of my sleeping pads, but the rest of the floor of my tent was wet or at least damp everywhere.  Luckily, my clothes were dry (though, it wouldn't have made much difference anyway - they were completely soaked with sweat within the first 15 minutes of running).  The 'rain' I had heard was just water falling off the branches onto my tent when the wind blew.  I knew immediately that my time goal had just been changed.  I make up a lot of my uphill time going fast on the downhills, but with slippery rocks, that wasn't going to happen.

I got up, had my breakfast of two mangoes, a banana and some dates and got dressed.  Everyone was milling about and talking in the campsite area, but I was too nervous to be out there chatting, so I slipped away back to my tent to lay down and listen to music while doing some stretches.  Finally, at about 7:00, we left to walk to our respective start lines.  All three races started at a different point, which was nice because the course goes to single track pretty quickly, and it was hard enough to position yourself where you wanted to be amongst just the other runners in your race.

 Joe, Billy, Me and Ty just before the race starts

The 50k start was about a 1/4 mile away, so we used the opportunity to warm up a little and jogged over there.  As it turns out, slippery rocks would be the least of my worries.  Everywhere where there weren't rocks, the course was muddy.  It was a sticky, sticky mud that collected on the bottom of your shoes and wouldn't fall off.  So, by the time we even got to the start line, we were all already scraping mud off the bottom of our shoes.  Then, what I had been waiting for and daydreaming about for a year finally became a reality as the last seconds were counted down and we were off and slipping running, and the race was on.

Billy, Joe and I heading off to the 50k start line

The first 10 miles contained four huge hills all in a row.  They were the same four hills that were the last 10 miles of the relay leg I ran in October.  I was a little concerned about having them first and tiring out my legs so quickly so early on, and that is, indeed, what happened.  By the time I got through those first ten miles, my quads were screaming.  The mud just made it worse.  When you weren't slipping, you were having to use extra energy to unstick your foot from the ground, so I had used up a lot more energy than anticipated by the time I rolled into the Nachos aid station at mile 10.

Elevation profile for the 50k course

Miles 10-15 were tough.  I went to a dark place, and I honestly don't remember much of them.  My legs were shot, and I still had 21 miles to go.  That was difficult to bear.  Tougher still was that crews weren't allowed at Nachos, so after seeing my friends that were helping me out at mile five in the middle of the hills, I had to wait until arriving at Chapas at mile 15 before seeing them again.  I finally started to feel myself coming out of the fog as I neared Chapas.  There, I saw Courtney and Kat, whom I am ever so grateful for.  Courtney always had my gels and salt tabs ready to go amongst other things that she thought I might want.  Then she and the aid station volunteers (who were also awesome) would grab my water bottle(s) (I started carrying two after Chapas - I was sweating sooo much and running out of water between stations) and refill them for me allowing me to just rest and recoup for a minute.

Best race crew ever!!  Courtney and Kat made all the difference at the aid stations.

After Chapas, I was rejuvenated.  Half way done!!  On the downward slope now.  AND, the next (and last) two aid stations were actually the same one - Cross Roads.  We passed by there at miles 21 and again at 26 on the other side.  For some reason, this was very comforting.  I took off from Chapas with determination and renewed grit.  It was slow-going at first, but as my mental state improved, so did my pace.  Some of the mantras and thoughts that got me through the tough spots were 'You only get to do your first 50k once' and 'Just keep moving' and 'One foot in front of the other'.  Writing those now, they don't really seem too inspiring, but that's what was pushing me forward at the time. 

What I saw for two miles as I trudged through the stickiest mud ever

The last two miles before Cross-Roads was a stretch of muddy field that was so, so difficult.  The mud just caked up on your shoes, an inch or two thick on the bottom AND the sides.  It made your foot feel 10 pounds heavier and with every step, you had to unsuction your foot from the ground.  What should have been a fast stretch used to make up for some of that slow uphill time suddenly became a time stopper.  I had stopped looking at the time or my pace somewhere around mile 11 or 12 when I finally realized that my time goal was just a dream (that likely contributed to the 'dark place' as well), but still, I didn't like going this slow.  Runners were stopping and trying to scrape the mud from their shoes on the barbwire fence, some were just walking.  The only thing that kept me from slowing to a walk during the last mile of it was being able to see Cross Roads approaching and that was enough of a boost to push me out of that damn field (excuse my French) and back onto the rocky path.  

Cross-roads aid station

  
I hit Cross-roads 1 feeling good, well, as good as one can feel after having run 21 miles over mountains and through mud.  I guess I mean good in terms of my head.  Yeah, my legs were tired.  They hurt.  My feet hurt.  I had scratches and was bleeding from running through the sotol bushes.  I had a raw spot on the back of my left heel that was getting worse and worse.  I had blisters forming on at least two toes.  But, mentally, I was ready to go.  Last 10 miles.  No problem.  Let's do it!  I took off from the Cross-roads station and headed out toward the Three Sisters hills.

I was moving along fine, or so I felt, yet at one point near the end of the third of the three sisters, I happened to glance back and saw a girl with red numbers on her bib just 50m behind me.  At this point, I was thinking I had a good hold on 5th place based on information given to me back at mile 5 and counting of how many 50k gals had passed me and how many I had passed (both had only happened a couple times, I thought).  So, I was quite surprised to see this girl sneaking up on me.  I was about 6 miles from the end, and long past any hopes of my time goal, and I was not about to give up my place too.  So, I turned it on.  Once I summitted the hill, I immediately started running again and didn't stop till I got to the (last!!) aid station.  I sucked down two gels this time, inhaled my two salt tabs and took off with just one filled water bottle for this last, shorter stretch, the whole time feeling the pressure of this girl being right on my tail.  The adrenaline rush from feeling chased mixed with the elation of only having 4.5 more miles to go gave me the boost I needed to sprint (well, it felt like sprinting, though, at the VERY most, it was maybe an 8:30 or 9:00 pace, but at that point - that was an all out sprint) out of Cross-roads 2 and toward the finish.

 Trying to move through the last aid station as quickly as possible because of another 50k girl right on my tail....or so I thought

Those last 4.5 miles were tough.  I was pushing myself as hard as I could.  Every time I slowed to walk an uphill (side note: my definition of 'hill' had changed significantly since the beginning of the race), I would look back expecting to see her right there.  I would walk a few steps then to get myself started again, I would count down 3.....2.....1....GO! and pick up my feet to start running again.  I got to the last (and by far most evil) hill, Lucky Peak.  If you look at the elevation profile above of the course, you can see that it is basically a completely vertical ascent followed by a completely vertical descent - a straight line up and down really.  I had to run that darn hill twice last year in the 25k - Joe puts it at the very beginning and very end of the race, but it seemed infinitely taller and steeper this year.  It took everything I had no to stop and stand still while working my way up, because I knew if I stopped, I wouldn't be able to get back started again.  There was a 100k woman behind me a ways that I had passed a quarter mile back from Lucky who nearly passed me by the time I got to the top!!  This woman was amazing.  How she had the strength to power up that hill like she did is beyond me - and this was with knowing that she still had another lap to go.  Incredible.  I turned around and cheered for her and told her she was awesome, then made the final descent on my beaten up quads down the other side.  

Victory!!!  I just ran 31 miles and finished my first 50k in killer conditions.

The finish line was close.  I could taste it.  I passed the 'Last Chance' aid station for the 100kers and knew I had a half mile to go.  A half mile seemed like an eternity, but since I've been running with one of my running groups (the Ship of Fools) where we do weekly track workouts, I've learned to think about that last half mile of a race as 'just an 800' instead.  Two times around the track (well about 2 1/2 on our short track) y ya.  Done.  Unfortunately, that last half mile was all mud, but I guess, in some way, it wouldn't have been right if it weren't.  I finally came out of the woods and rounded the corner to the finish line in 5:57.  Thirty-seven minutes slower than my goal time, but under 6 hours and in 7th place overall, so I'll take it.  The girl that I thought was hot on my tail that was the impetus for me going 'fast' in those last 6 miles finished 7 minutes back from me.  I also found out that I'd won my age group (the top 5 finishers got overall awards, then age groups started after that), and that the award was this awesome metal donkey (I love Tejas Trails trophies).

   Done!! 7th place overall and first in my age group

My friends were waiting for me at the finish and quickly got me a drink and gave me high fives and hugs.  Three friends had finished before me, all of us within 20 minutes of each other.  More friends came in a little while later.  The 25k runners were there too and we all started sharing stories and congratulating each other.

  Brian (25k), Joe (50k), me and Billy (50k) at the finish line.  I'm just resting my eyes a little...

Some of us went into town where Courtney and Joe kindly let me use the shower in their bunkhouse (though, I think Courtney was just as happy that I showered as I was - I was pretty disgusting) and I finally got to eat my celebratory doughnuts.  I had a maple-covered and a glazed cake-style one.  Delicious.  I knew the sotol scratches on my legs were going to sting in the water, but I wasn't at all prepared for the horrible chafing burns on my back from my sports bra.  I got under the water and nearly let out a shriek as the warm water hit them.  I was really confused for a minute thinking, 'How in the world did I get sotol scratches on my back?!', but then I realized that it must be chafing.  I had used body glide under my arms where I've had chafing issues before, but didn't even think about putting it on my back.  Lesson definitely learned.  The rubbed areas have since converted into large scabs that go all the way across my back.  Other battle wounds include the sotol scratches, blisters on 6 out of 10 toes (some toes with multiple blisters) and general overall soreness.

**Disclaimer:  If you're easily bothered by cuts, blisters and the sort, don't look at these next pictures**

 

 Battle wounds.  Left: one of the worst blisters, this toe actually had at least two, the one you see plus one under the toenail (those hurt worse); Center: the chafing on my back from my sports bra; Right: scratches up and down my legs from the sotol bushes

 Did I mention it was a little muddy out there?

After showering, we ate at a restaurant and booked it back to cheer on our friend running the 100k.  When we got back, we found him at our campsite.  He had completed 48 miles (out of 62) and had to withdraw due to an IT band injury.  He was pretty upset, but all of us were (and are) extremely proud of what he did out there.  Forty-eight miles at Bandera on a good weather conditions day would be amazing.  In the kind of conditions we had that day, it was an incredible feat.   I have no doubt that the next big race he does, he will knock it out of the park.

A cold front was coming in, which meant big gusts of wind and dropping temperatures.  Those that were leaving that night or staying in town quickly took off for their warm cars or hotel rooms respectively.  My roommate and I wandered over the finish line to see who all was hanging out.  There weren't that many folks that we knew, so we hung out for a little while at camp chatting a bit before finally calling it a night around 8:30.  It took a little while to fall asleep with the wind whipping around outside and the occasional cheers coming in from the finish line as a 100ker would finish (the cut-off time was 7:00 AM the next morning, so some folks were out there all night long), but once I did, I slept well. We got up early the next morning, broke down camp and made our way back to Austin.

So, my first 50k did not go the way I imagined it.  Part of me is a little disappointed in my time, but most of me is pretty darn proud for doing it, and for doing it in the crazy conditions that we were given.  I really had a blast overall, and I am so grateful that I got to share it with some pretty awesome people.  I'm already thinking about the next big thing.  Well, I guess the next big thing is the Austin marathon in nearly 4 weeks now (yikes!).  I'm hoping to qualify for Boston 2014 there, so fingers crossed we have a better weather day on February 17th than we did on January 12th.  The next big trail thing for me might be the Chattanooga Mountain Stage Race.  It's 3 days, 3 mountains, 60 miles total.  Each day you go up and over one of three different mountains.  I'm from Chattanooga, and I think this would be an awesome and incredibly difficult race (which makes me want to do it even more).  There are time cutoffs for each day that I think I could make (you have to keep a 13 min/mile pace).  Even my moving average for Bandera in these conditions was 11:12/mile, but it makes a difference having a night to sleep that allows your muscles to get sore and stiffen.  It will take a lot of training to do it, but I think I can.

Anyway, Bandera 50k is in the books.  I can't ever do my first 50k again, but I wouldn't take the option of doing it over on a nice, cool, dry day even if I had the chance, because this is the way it was (hot, humid, muddy), so this is the way it was supposed to be.  It was definitely an adventure and a pretty awesome one at that.

Here's a video I got from YouTube that shows the rockiness, steepness and muddiness of the course:

One Week More

**To the tune of 'One Day More' from Les Miserables**

One week more!
Another week, a few more training days.
Until we run Bandera 50k.
The men that will record our time,
Will put a timing chip on ankle mine.
One week more!

Hills and rocks and 31 miles,
Is all we have to run to finish.

One week more!

High high and low low on the temperature dial,
Oh, how I hope that range is diminished.

(One more week of butterflies.)
Will we make it o'er the hills?
(One more week to plan your drop bags.)
Will we withstand the sotol plants?
(Don't forget your Body Glide.)
Take your gels and salt tabs.
(Don't forget to stretch your calves.)

One more week before the race!
(Shall we follow this flagging tape?)
In the small town of Bandera.
(Or shall we follow the runner in front?)
Will we keep our goal pace?
(Will these knees bear the brunt?)
Will we come out injury free?

The time is now, the week is here!

One week more!

One week more to locomotion!
Through the Texas hill country!
We will likely fall and scrape our legs!
We will do it triumphantly!

One day more!

Watch us run amuck,
Catch us as we fall,
With just a little luck
At the finish, there'll be alcohol,
Here a little `jog'
There a little `walk'
Lucky Peak ain't nothin'
But a little shock!

1: One week to a new longest distance
2: Raise the bar for future runs!
1: Every runner must persevere!
2: Every runner must persevere!
1:  And above all, be resilient
2: What a way to start the year

Do you see the people run?

My place is here, I run with you!

One week more!

Hills and rocks and 31 miles!
(One more week of butterflies!)
Is all we have to run to finish.

We will join these 50k veterans
We will follow where they go
We will learn their little secrets,
We will know the things they know.

One day more!

High high and low low on the temperature dial,
(One more week to plan your drop bags.)
Oh, how I hope that range is diminished.

One more week to locomotion!
Through the Texas hill country!
We will likely fall and scrape our legs!

Watch us run amuck,
Catch us as we fall,
With just a little luck
At the finish, there'll be alcohol.

Next week we'll run a far far way,
Next week will be the judgement day

Next week we will discover
What Bandera, Texas has in store!
Seven more dawns
Seven more days
One week more!

Decker Challenge Half Marathon

I ran a half marathon today.  It was my first (real) road race since the marathon.  Yes, I did the Turkey Trot, but that was just for fun and was last minute and just didn't have the impact that these other races had on me, so I'm putting it in the 'just for fun' category.  Today was the Decker Challenge Half Marathon, and is known as the hardest, hilliest half in Austin.  I had been hearing for weeks from my running group, Al's Ship of Fools, about how hard the course was, how many hills there were, the giant hill at mile 10.....  It had been talked up big, and I was hoping, like what happens so often with movies that are talked up, that it wasn't going to be all that it was made out to be.

But it turns out that it was. 

It was a grueling course, extremely hilly - relentless hills - and a finishing chute that lasted F-O-R-E-V-E-R.  That is how Decker always is.  This year, though, had the distinction of also falling on a particularly hot and humid day - 70 degrees at the start and 97% humidity.  Those are some sweaty, slowing conditions, and because of all this, the hilliness, the heat, the humidity, I really had no idea what a reasonable goal time for me was.  I did the Austin half in February in 1:45, but I know I'm a lot stronger and faster now (thanks largely to my awesome running group's speed and hill workouts), BUT, this course is harder, and then there was the weather.....

I flip-flopped back-and-forth about what my goal should be - just to PR, sub-1:40, 7:30/mile, forget about time and try to run negative splits, just go out and race by feel......  At the start of the race, I had settled on my main goal being to PR with an extra bonus goal of sub-1:40, though, I wasn't 100% sure that that was what I wanted my goal(s) to be still.  (Note to self: have race goal figured out before toeing the line)

Anyway, the course basically runs around Walter E. Long Lake, starting and finishing at the Travis County Events Center.  The race started out okay - some rolling hills, but nothing too scary.  Folks from my running group were manning the water station at mile two, and it was great to see friendly faces there and hear their cheers.  The rest of the first half continued in this manner, and I knew that the second half was harder, or so I'd heard, but I was feeling pretty (perhaps overly) confident up through about mile 6.  I started out running with the 1:40 pace group, but they were running seemingly slowly at first, so I sped up.  I knew it was a stupid move, because I know that I go out too fast, and that they were doing the smart thing and going out slower so as to have something in the tank at the end.  I even heard the pace group leader say this, but I forged ahead on my own anyway, running a pace I knew wasn't sustainable but hoping that somehow I'd surprise myself and be able to keep it up.

It started to get interesting around mile 7, and by interesting, I mean difficult.  The hills got bigger, steeper and longer, and by mile 10, where the giant hill that everyone had talked about was, I was nearly out of inner will to keep pushing.  Knowing, though, that mile 10 was the last 'big' hill, I forged on.  Some of the volunteers had written in chalk all up the hill - things like 'Power Up', 'Dig Deep', 'You Are Strong' and so on.  They were written every 20 feet or so, and they really, really helped.  Instead of gazing up the hill and getting deflated by the distance that I still had to cover before cresting, I just looked forward to the next bit of writing and so took the hill in little parts instead of all at once, all the while repeating those phrases over and over in my head.  In fact, I kept them in there during the last three miles after the hill when it got really mentally difficult to keep moving.

Somehow, I made it up that hill without walking - actually without falling off my pace too terribly much.  That's one big difference from trail running.  When you hit a giant hill in trail running, you power walk it.  Now, the giant hills in trail are often much steeper and sometimes longer and covered in rocks, but it's perfectly acceptable, expected even to power walk them.  In road races, however, walking isn't used as a strategic move like it is in trail running, and I was bound and determined to not walk at all.  Somehow, I made it without having to, and at the top of the hill were more friends, Courtney and Joe, at the 10-mile water station.  I'm pretty sure if I spoke at all, it was something fairly incoherent, but I do know that I was very excited to see them there whether they were able to tell or not.  It's such a boost to hear anyone cheer for you, and especially so when it's good friends who shout out your name when you're feeling pretty beat up.

Somewhere around mile 10, the 1:40 pace group passed me.  I cursed myself a little for being stupid in the beginning and not going with my gut and starting out slower, but there was no point in getting upset about it now, so I just tried to hang with them for as long as I could.  They started to pull more and more away from me and eventually got out of sight.

The last three miles were grueling.  Even though there were no more 'big' hills, there were still plenty of rolling ones, and unlike the first 6 miles when these rolling hills didn't affect me too much, every one of these seemed like Mt. Kilimanjaro this time around.  But, the worst part had yet to come.  The last turn off the road and back onto the event center grounds indicated to me that the race was almost over.  I had come to the home stretch, the final push, just a little bit more to go......That was a lie.  It was the L.O.N.G.E.S.T. finishing chute I have ever had to run through.  It was quite literally, at least 3/4 mile long.  Every little turn, you caught a glimpse of the finish line and thought, 'okay, just around the next bend.....oh, nope, but it must be just around the next one......nope, not there either.....' for 3/4 of a mile.  It just would not end.  And I was hurting - bad.  When I passed the water station after the giant hill at mile 10, my friends shouted to me that I was in 7th place or so.  Between there and this 'final stretch', one girl had passed me.  When finally, I actually was about 600m away from the finish, another girl passed me.  I heard her come up and started to push harder to hold her off, but I just didn't have it in me, and I actually got scared for a minute that I might not make it to the finish line.

Last weekend, there was a special event run at a local running store and elite trail runner Scott Jurek came and ran with everyone and then held a Q and A session after.  One lady asked him about the phenomenon of how it was somewhat common (not that it happens a lot, but enough to notice that it does) of people collapsing just before a finish line and what he thought about that.  He responded by saying that he thinks that what happens is that people give it all in the race, and when they finally see the finish line, their mind tells the body, 'Okay.  We're here.  You can stop now.'  Well, I felt this happening to me just a couple hundred meters from the finish.  I was finally there.  I wanted more than anything else in the world to stop, and I saw the finish, and I actually felt for a second that my legs were going to give out on me, and that I was going to just collapse right there.  Then, I thought about that lady asking that question and told myself that I had to run to the building so as to see past the finish line in the hopes of being able to get myself there.  I guess it worked, because I crossed the finish line a few seconds later.  I always try to sprint at the end of a race no matter the distance, and I tried today, but I have a feeling that from outside looking in, I probably did not at all look like I was sprinting.

I finished and immediately had to grab the fence after the finish line.  I thought for a while that I might pass out.  People were asking me if I was okay, and a woman was trying to help me continue through the chute, though, I had to stand there holding on for a minute.  I finally got the wherewithal to get myself away from the crowd and I found a spot in the parking lot to sit down for a while until my head stopped spinning.  I also finally checked my time 1:42 (7:44/mile).  It wasn't the 1:40 I was shooting for, but it was a new half marathon PR, and it was a grueling course on a humid, humid day, so I was happy.

I wandered inside and got a banana and some water - still not very sure-footed, still having people ask me if I was okay and trying to offer me food and things that might help.  Even a banana at this point was making me nauseous, though, I knew I needed it, so I forced it down.  A few minutes later, I ran into a friend, Adam, from my other running group (Synergy Running) who had also had a grueling but good run.  We went to go check our results, and lo-and-behold, I had won my age group!  So, maybe I had done alright, then.  I mean, I was already happy with the PR, but to win my age group was an added, unexpected bonus (not to mention it came with a $35 gift certificate to Rogue Running!)

Final results:
1st/88 in my age group
11th/529 female
99th/1029 overall

My per mile pace was nearly what my super-secret (but I guess not so secret since I'm writing it here) goal is for the Austin full in February (3:20 - can't believe I just put that in writing), which worries me a bit seeing as how I literally left it all out there on the course today and could not have in any way, shape or form run another 13 miles at that speed.  BUT, I'm not losing hope because a) there is still a good bit of time to train, b) this was an exceptionally difficult course, and the hills were laid out differently than the way they will be in the full and c) there were exceptionally difficult weather conditions today, so I have confidence that I still, at least, have a shot at that goal.

As for today, it was hot, humid, hilly and hard, but in retrospect, I had a hell of a time and will be riding today's high for a few days to come at least.

Chattanooga Turkey Trot

So, I kind-of forgot to write up this race right away because it didn't really register as a 'race' in my head having neither characteristic I usually attribute to that word - 'long distance' or 'on trail'.  But it was, indeed a race, so I will log it here largely to do me being strangely ocd about unimportant things - like not leaving out a race of a race blog, even if I don't remember to write about it till 3 weeks after the fact.  (If only I could be ocd about things like getting papers written by the deadlines I set for myself or important school tasks...)

The race was the 8k Turkey Trot in Chattanooga on Thanksgiving day.  It's a smaller-ish race - only about 1,000 people (compared to the 23,000+ of the Austin Turkey Trot, it's comparably small).  I realized kind-of last minute that I could do it and still get to Thanksgiving dinner at my sister's in-laws (where we've done Thanksgiving dinner for the last 13-14 years or so) in Cleveland, TN on time.  So, I drove up to the Sports Barn and registered the morning of.  I had a good time, though nothing too eventful happened.  The course was nearly completely flat except for a few small hills.  My goal going in was to do it in sub-35 minutes or in other words sub-7-minute miles.  I felt fairly confident that I could maintain that pace having had run the 7-mile loop at Town Lake here in Austin a few weeks back at a 7:05 pace.

Anyway, not very long story very short, I achieved my goal, running a 33:50 (6:47/mile) time and as an added bonus, got 3rd in my age group, which won me a nice little pair of running gloves that I will use if winter ever decides to make its way to Austin.

Another added bonus was running into my elementary PE coach, Coach Cutrer.  He was awesome as a PE coach, and interestingly, his wife was one who was involved in my very early running days.  I have a picture somewhere of us back in ~1990, me as a 5th grader wearing my gigantic mauve (they were NOT pink, they were mauve) glasses and holding an age-group trophy I won (don't remember what place) for a 5k I'd run at UTC. 

Afterward, the best part of the day came when I got to see my nieces, their parents and my parents all of whom I hadn't seen since March.  And of course, the eating part was pretty awesome too.  I love Thanksgiving.

Cactus Rose 100 Mile Relay

The terrain at Bandera State Natural Area in the hill country of central Texas

What a weekend.  It finally got cold in Texas - just when we were about to head out for a weekend of camping and running at Bandera State Natural Area in Bandera, TX.  The Cactus Rose race was held there on Saturday (October 27th).  There was a 100 mile, 50 mile and 4 x 25 mile relay race.  We ran the relay.  It all started many months ago when I got it in my head that I wanted to see if I was capable of running a near marathon on the hardest coursewithin a few hundred  miles in any direction of here.  I did my very first trail race here - the Bandera 25k - in January of this year.  And I loved it.  But it was hard.  So hard.  It's not just the hills that make it hard, but the technicality of the course.  Good portions of it are just trails of loose rock that slip and slide under your feet, and the downhills are just as if not harder than the uber-steep uphills and are murder on  your quads.  Not to mention that it's littered with sotol and prickly pear and every other pointy and prickly Texas plant you could think of.  But this is what makes it fun.  You know there's a good chance you're going to fall.  You know that you're going to come back at least a little bloody.  You know that you probably aren't going to be able to walk very well for a few days after.  So when you do make it back and hear that little beep as your timing chip crosses the finish line, well, that's a feeling that makes it all so worth it.

Clockwise course route (Ty's and my loops); Joe and Phillip ran the reverse direction

My team consisted of my good friend and roommate, Ty, our friend Joe and Ty's brother, Phillip.  We had had one opportunity to do one practice run all together as a team a couple weeks before at St. Edward's/Bull Creek.  We weren't really planning on racing at Cactus Rose.  We just wanted to do it.  For me, it was an experiment to see where I stood in terms of planning for my first 50k there in January.  For Ty, it was an opportunity to potentially set a new PR for this 25 mile course; for Phillip, another race to add to his resume.  For Joe, this would be his first trail race and longest run ever by 8.5 miles.  We just wanted to finish.  

I arrived after dark on Friday and after chatting for a few minutes with Joe and his wife, Courtney, Ty and Ty's family, promptly set up my tent, and we all hit the hay early to rest up for the long day ahead.  It was so windy that sometime during the middle of the night, my rain fly blew half-way off my tent.  I thought about leaving it  until I felt the cold wind blow straight into my tent, so sometime around 3 AM, I got out into the cold and secured it back down.  At 4:30, I woke up again.  This time to my alarm.  Time to go see Ty off.  He was running the first leg that started at 5:00.  It was a chilly and windy 46 degrees and dark.  I must say, I was quite glad to not have to be stripping down to my shorts and thin running shirt at that time. 

Ty getting ready to go at 5:00 AM

We saw Ty off, and I went straight back to bed.  My intention was to sleep another couple of hours and then get up to see Ty at the last one or two aid stations, but I fell back into a deep sleep and didn't wake up till he was just 45 minutes away from the finish line.  Now, in my defense, Ty runs exceptionally fast.  He breezed through the finish line in 3:55 - just 3 minutes off the course record!!  He finished in second place out of the relays, but just by a couple minutes setting us up well going into our second leg.  He didn't even look like he'd just run 25 miles.  He was smiling and laughing and seemingly not in any pain at all.

Ty finishes the first leg in 3:55!  We're in second place at this point, just a handful of minutes behind the first place team.

Joe is up next.  It's still really cold and windy, though, at least the sun is up now.  We get the timing chip and bib off of Ty and pinned onto Joe, and he's on his way. 

Joe about to start the 2nd leg of the relay.  We're about 10 minutes back from first at this point.

 

 At this point, we're all up and moving around as a group to the aid stations.  The aid stations were set 5 miles apart from each other at 5, 10, 15 and 20 miles.  Now, usually in the Tejas Trails trail races, the aid stations are manned and the tables stocked with water, gatorade, gels, pretzels, candies, fruit and other assorted things that provide runners with the needed salt (electrolytes) and sugar (caloris/energy) that endurance runners require during these events.  But this race is different.  The aid stations all had water, but otherwise, you had to have all your own nutrition needs covered.  We had all gone around to the aid stations before our respective legs and set out drop bags with gels, bananas, dates, salt tablets and any other thing we thought we might need (change of shoes, shirt, etc.).  Working as a team, though, the runner never had to look for their own bag and rummage through and decide what they needed.  The team would get there first and get things out and ready so the runner could just run through and quickly grab what they needed, take a minute breather and get back out on the course.  Also, in this race, you had to make sure you signed yourself in at every aid station.  This was to be able to keep track of all the runners and make sure that everyone was accounted for on this long and difficult course.  We would also sign in our runner at each aid station, which was awesome because even something as simple as writing down your name becomes a major task once you're 15 miles in.

The second leg was pretty exciting as Joe and the other lead team's 2nd legger were really battling it out.  There seemed to be a lead change every aid station.  And it was the other team in first as they came across the finish, but Joe was right behind, so he'd made up some of the time we were behind on them from the start of his loop, putting us even closer to first place than when he started.  Joe finished in an amazing 4:45.  An incredible time and an amazing new longest run by nearly 9 miles.

Joe finishes in 4:45!  We're in second place, but Joe gained on the first place team lessening their lead by several minutes.

 Getting ready for my leg.  Joe will be here in just a couple minutes.  The girl behind me is the 3rd leg of the first place team; Gotta' run her down!  (That's Roscoe, our race ambassador, in the foreground.  He also really likes to chase flashlight beams.)

Joe passes me the 'baton'.

Ready or not, here I go.  I take off and round the corner away from the start and out onto the trail to toward Lucky Peak.  I quickly find my rhythm and look down at my watch - a 6:46/mile pace!!!  'Slow down, Laura, you've got a long way to go.'  With the adrenaline at the beginning of a race, it's so easy to just take off at a pace that you know is unsustainable but that feels okay right then because of all the nervous and excited energy.  I'm trying to work on holding back so that I have more in the tank for those later, really difficult miles at the end.  So, I backed off, to a 7:46 or so pace.  Still faster than I told myself I was allowed to run, but it felt good, so I went with it.  

 

Shortly after my watch clicked over to two miles, I hit a dead end.  What?  Where is the pink flagging tape?  Where are the yellow signs with arrows?  Why isn't there a red 'wrong way' sign somewhere?  What happened???  Oh no, I'm letting the chance of passing that girl, of our whole team winning, slip away.  Where did I go wrong?  Did I miss a turn?  Is the trail right here, and I just don't see it?  What do I do?  

I decide to turn around and back the way I came.  Every step is an agonizing second guessing of whether I should keep going back or go back to the dead end and keep looking for a marker.  Precious time is slipping away.  And then, finally, there!  I see a yellow sign with an arrow pointing off the road I'm on and down a trail.  How did I miss that before?  Oh well, just keep going and hope that those 5 minutes spent aren't the difference between first and second.  I worry the whole next three miles about how far ahead I let first place get, but lo and behold, as I come out of the woods into an open field, I think I catch a glimpse of her up ahead, at the other end of the field.  Maybe we're still okay!!  I come up to the aid station.  I'd planned to not stop at this one, as the first 5 miles of the clockwise direction aren't too difficult - just one big hill, but otherwise an overall downhill grade.  I exchange my empty water bottle for a full one from Ty and ask how long ago first place came through.  'She's just right there!' he tells me, and I'm off to run her down.

Ty telling me that first place is 'just right there!' as I come through the first aid station.

 

The next 5 mile section was really easy.  More downhill grade, no major hills.  I just open up and go for it.  I passed the first place girl just on the other side of the aid station, and in an attempt to put some space between us, I run miles 5 and 6 hard, at under 8 minutes per mile.  I was feeling good and feeling the distance widen between us as I came into the second aid station at mile 10.  

 

The third section wasn't so bad, either.  There was one big hill then some flat area with a little up and down in it, but still really runable, and I held the same pace through this point into the next aid station.  I had finished the first 15 miles in 2:16 - about 45 minutes per segment so far.  But I knew the last two were going to be slower and harder.  All the biggest hills were coming up, and they were all smashed together, one right after the other.  Plus, the miles were starting to make themselves heard on my legs.  But, the adrenaline of being in first, plus the boost I got from seeing my teammates and supporters at the aid stations propelled me on. 

 

'Okay', I tell myself.  'Two big ones.  Two big ones and you're at the next aid station.'  I headed into miles 15-20 ready to tackle Three Sisters and Sky Island - the two biggies in this segment.  When I got to Three Sisters, I tried running it, but quickly decided a better use of my energy was to powerhike it.  Spare the legs.  Still a lot of miles to go.  I hiked up it, and once on top hear myself say 'One!'.  One down, one to go.  I ran down the other side.  Running down is fun when you get your steps just right - scanning the ground for the most stable place to put your foot, zig-zagging side-to-side on the really steep parts.  When you don't get your steps just right, though, if you're not in the rhythm, then running down can be quite scary and a little precarious.  Either way, it rips up your quads.  

 

I get to Sky Island and hike up this one as well.  As I reach the top, I come up on the second place 100-miler.  He turns around when he hears me coming and says 'I hope you're a relayer!'  I assure him I am and we chat for a bit.  It turns out we ran together for several miles during a 25k race in April.  He and another guy had been a welcome distraction for me during that race.  They ran right behind me chatting for a good 10+ miles.  I chimed in here and there but mostly just listened and used their conversation to take my mind off my pain.  It was nice to run into him here again and to see him doing so well in such an amazing feat of endurance - the 100 mile race.  I think to myself, 'Okay, if he's still going and has an extra 50 miles on his legs, then I can keep it up the last 8'.  I head into the last aid station with a time of 1:07 for this segment.  I slowed down a lot, but I tell myself it's okay - it was a hard section, but I need to pick it up in the last one.  My team tells me I have at least 10 minutes on the next team, but a lot of things can happen between those aid stations.  I need to run hard the last 5.

 

  Coming in to the last aid station.  Just 5 more miles and two big hills left!

 

The last 5 miles I started questioning myself.  I'd only run past 20 miles once ever before - when I did the marathon in April.  And those were the most painful miles I've ever run in my life.  'Can I do this?  Can I keep up this pace?'  I think I can physically, but will my mind stay in it?  'Don't think, just run, Laura.  Five at a time.'  This has been my mantra the whole time - 'Five at a time.  You do five mile runs all the time.  You can do this.  Two more hills.  What goes up, must come down.  Just get to the top, then you can run down.'  Though, running down is pretty painful by now too.  My knees ache with every pounding footstep.  My quads are tired.  My calves are tight.  My hamstrings are thinking about cramping up.  'Just five more miles.  Your team is counting on you.'  At this point, I'm talking to myself.  Out loud.  Giving myself a little pep talk with each step.  It's working.  I shake off the doubts and the pain and just keep on going.  Somehow, I get myself up and over the last two hills.  The end is close now.  Just a few more turns....

 

Finally!  I run around the last turn and hear my team cheering me in.  I can see the finish line and I sprint to it.  I did the last five miles in 53 minutes, finishing in 4:16.  My goal going in had been 5 hours.  I am so happy.  Happy with my time.  Happy to be done.  Happy to have been able to use what my team had given me and work us into first place.  Happy that I gave it my all.  I had nothing left.  I left it all out on the course.  My team helped get the chip and bib transferred over to Phillip, and he started his leg with a 30 minute lead on second place. 

 Phillip takes off on the last leg.  We're in first place by 30 minutes!

Shortly after Phillip takes off, it starts getting dark.  I miss his first aid station stop as I'm in recovery mode still.  Everything is difficult.  Standing, sitting, changing clothes, everything.....  I think it took me a good 15-20 minutes just to change my clothes.  Every move aches.  My arms are sore.  Why are my arms sore?  Everything hurts, but it doesn't matter.  I feel good.  I have a recovery drink of Odwalla juice with protein powder in it.  The protein powder doesn't dissolve and the whole thing looks a little gross, but it's okay.  It's much needed nutrients.  Plus, I really want a cookie, but I don't get my cookie until I get in the juice.  

Right after the race drinking my not so appetizing but very necessary protein shake.  I have to finish this before I can have my cookies.  So, for that reason, I chug it down.

After a little while, I feel well enough to rejoin my team at Phillip's second aid station and help cheer him on.

Phillip comes in to the second aid station looking good.  He's running fast splits and maintaining our lead.

Phillip mentions cramping at the second and third aid stations, but by the fourth seems to be feeling great.  He got there much faster than we anticipated.  In fact, Ty and I were just getting out of the car to come up and start waiting for him when Joe ran down to say, 'He's here!!'  An amazingly fast fourth segment seems to all but have sewn up first place, but no one wants to say it lest we jinx ourselves.  You never know what can happen out there - especially in the dark....  We get Phillip's water bottle refilled, give him a gel and sign him in, and he's on his way - the last 5 miles of our 100 mile adventure.  We take off to the finish line to set up chairs around the heat lanterns and wait for his arrival.  

Forty-five minutes later, a bright light comes down the final stretch.  It's the first place 100 miler who broke his own course record by an hour-and-a-half.  Amazing.  He ran 100 miles in 17:38!  We thought having fresh legs every round would easily allow us to beat any 100 miler, but these guys are just amazing, and Steven Moore crosses the finish line first out of everyone - 100 milers and all relay teams.  Some 50 milers are still finishing too, and every time lights come up the path, we all jump up and wait anxiously.  Is that him?  

Then, yes, finally, at 17:48, here comes number 89!  Phillip crosses the finsh line, and it's official.  We won the 100 mile relay!!!!!  Joe Prusaitis, the race director comes over and congratulates us and gives us our Cactus Roses.  He is talking excitedly about how entertaining it was to watch the relay saga play out and takes our picture.  

 Team Nannergy with our 1st place trophies - our Cactus Roses. 

From left to right: Ty, Phillip, Joe and me

 

We wait around at the finish line to see the second place relay team finish still 20 minutes behind us.  We congratulate them and wait around for the second place 100 miler - the guy I saw back at my mile 17 or so.  He held on to 2nd finishing somewhere around 18:35 or so, his time also beating the previous course record (18:38 or something like that).  It seems that a lot of people had an amazing race today.  

 

It's nearing midnight and the excitement of the win is beginning to be overpowered by the draw of our sleeping bags, so we pack up our chairs and walk back to our tents, congratulate each other one more time and call it a day.

 

I wonder if I would have been able to run so fast if I had been on my own.  Knowing I had my team's support, and knowing that I was running for them and not just for myself, kept me moving when I wanted to give up.  Running is such an individual sport, and so it was really nice and really fun and rejuvenating to get to make it a team event.  Even if we hadn't been in the running (no pun intended) to win, the camaraderie and support of the relay would have had me on the high that I'm still riding this morning as I write this.  It was an amazing experience and one that I will treasure.  I not only owe thanks to my awesome team, but to those who were out there supporting us as well - to Courtney, who was sick, but never let it be an issue and to Ty's family who were there at nearly every aid station for all of us.  And to the other runners.  By the time I went, people were going in all directions, and every time you would pass someone going the other way, both parties would say, 'great job!' or 'keep it up!' or 'looking good!', and every single one of those comments was a little, much needed boost to keep on going.  

I ran my first trail race at Bandera in January - the 25k.  And this is my last race for this calendar year.  An appropriate way to end a truly amazing, life-changing year.  And this experience only has me more excited and motivated to start out next year back at Bandera again - this time for the 50k.  A new year, a new distance, a new challenge.  And then, who knows......