According to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, "running" is defined as "to move one's legs at a speed faster than walking". In a sense, this is true: just getting out and moving at a leisurely trot does constitute a run. Seems simple enough, right? How much different can one kind of running be from any other? In my experience, quite a lot. Take my last two weekends for example. Two Saturdays ago, I ran in a road half marathon near downtown Fort Worth. Then last weekend, I ran a trail 50 mile race among acres of lonely pastures in tiny Decatur, Texas. They were both "running." They were both technically on a "trail". They were both "races." But that's where the similarities, for all intents and purposes, would end.
Here are my stories of the Panther City Half Marathon (PC) and the Grasslands 50 Trail Run (G50)....along with a few thoughts and observations along the way.
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PC
It was still dark as I pulled in to park at the Martin House Brewery in Fort Worth, which would serve as the start/finish line for the Panther City Half Marathon. This would be a training race for me - essentially, a long tempo run in preparation for the Boston Marathon in a few weeks. Since I really don't like doing long tempo runs alone, I signed up for this race just a few days prior so I would at least have some company. I was excited about the prospect of a beautiful morning race along one of my favorite local city trails. I arrived early to meet one of my dear friends for a few prerace miles at a leisurely pace. We enjoyed a great conversation as we checked out the race route. As we returned to the brewery for the start of the race, the crowd was beginning to gather and the air was buzzing with anticipation. I absolutely love the energy around the start of a city race. I chatted with some other runners as the sun began to rise over the city skyline and the race director went over a few last-minute instructions. Then the countdown began - 5,4,3,2,1, and - GO!
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G50
My alarm went off at 4 am. It was dark and quiet as I crawled out of my tent, still shivering in the damp, chilly air that had settled over the LBJ Grasslands State Park in Decatur, Texas. "Coffee. I need coffee," I thought to myself. "And some hot breakfast." My teeth were chattering as I lit the fire on my portable stove and set up my pot to boil. I held my hands over the stove's dual flames as I tried to warm myself up. I had made the decision earlier in the year to begin camping at my ultra races in order to take in a different side of these events. Whenever I attend an ultra it always seemed that there was another group of people who enjoyed these races - the campers who, in their own way, formed a kind of separate community that I wanted to be a part of. So here I was - preparing a hot breakfast over a camping stove in the early morning darkness. Lights began to appear in some of my neighbor's tents as others began to awaken as well. We all prepared ourselves for a long day in what we knew would be tough conditions. We had joked the previous night about the impending mud-fest ("More mud equals more fun!", "It's all part of the adventure!") but now, with the start looming, our tone was decidedly more reserved. I checked in, collected my gear, and made my way to the starting line.
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PC
As we headed out of the starting area, we took a sharp left turn and eased on to a long straightaway. The running surface was initially concrete but quickly gave way to dry and well-packed dirt. I had no problems with footing and I settled into an easy pace. I was with the lead group, following a couple of strong runners who went out hard and were clearly pushing each other from the outset. I decided to remain at a comfortable pace, which for me was good enough to slide into 3rd. My watch beeped as the first mile clicked off - 6:35. Right on! I felt great as I pressed ahead. I wasn't going to push it any harder. The next couple miles glided by at around the same pace as I ran through the first water stop. I felt great, my legs were light and springy, and I had no trouble keeping the leaders in my sights. I smiled to myself and settled in.
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G50
"You're the guinea pig! Don't screw up," I heard my friend Reece call out from behind me as we set out over the first stretch of wet, muddy trail. Our headlamps illuminated a patch of slick, wet mud a few feet ahead of us. We bounced from one side of the trail to the other, trying to avoid the worst of it, but to no avail. We would run, stop, slide, jump, run again, slide, stop, and then try to run again. It was actually funny (for now) as we assumed (wrongly) that this opening out-and-back 5 miles HAD to be the worst stretch of trail we'd see all day. I laughed to myself as our watches clicked off an early pace of 12 minutes per mile. We had no idea whether that would get better or worse as the day progressed. But we trudged on. My hamstrings would begin to complain loudly in the early morning hours as unexpected shifts in the footing from the slick mud would send my legs off in different directions without notice. I would try to stabilize myself and proceed on down the trail. "Just keep moving", I thought to myself. "It can't get any worse than this." After finishing the first 5 miles I considered it a small victory that I had remained upright! I guess that counted for something. As I set out on the Blue Loop I took a deep breath. Only 45 more miles to go.....
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PC
The sun was up now and was shining through the trees as we hit a turnaround in a city park about 5 miles into the race. There was some separation in the field now - I knew that catching the leaders would require a monumental effort at this point to close a gap that was now about 1 minute between me and the second place runner. At the same time, others behind me were in the same boat. The were about the same distance behind me and would have to push to catch me as well, which was unlikely at this point in the race. So I knew could relax a little bit and maintain my pace. I was very happy to make the turn around and see runners coming back in the other direction. I offered several thumbs up and high fives as runners streamed by. I enjoyed seeing my friends and hearing "go get 'em!" So far the race was coming together exactly as I had hoped - I was executing my training plan, feeling great, hitting my splits, and really enjoying the morning. Not to mention the side benefit of being in contention in the race as well! The middle miles continued to click along as I hummed along to my tunes. Good times!
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G50
As my shoes sank into the trail, engulfed by mud that I would liken to a mix between quicksand and chocolate pudding, I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake by trying to tackle this 50 miler. I was 15 miles in now and the day that seemed to stretch before me was beginning to look longer and longer. I had put away my headlamp and the morning light helped me in one sense - at least now I could see what was coming. Eventually I would wrestle myself back on to a dry stretch of trail and actually run, slinging chunks of mud off of the bottoms of my shoes. I could really feel the effort of slogging through the morass in my legs and back now. The thought of dropping had entered my mind - there is less than a month to the Boston Marathon, the race that had occupied my dreams since I began running 15 years ago. Can I afford an injury out here? Even if I get out unscathed, will my body be shot and unable to allow for any decent training over the next few weeks? What was I DOING here? My mind was plagued with the dreaded disease of doubt as I pulled into the Red Ant Pond aid station. I was greeted by the smiles and care of several good friends who offered some food and water - but more than that, they gave me hope and inspiration (all the while laughing at the predicament we runners were facing). After a moment of reflection, a word or two of encouragement, and a pat on the back, I set out again. "Relentless forward progress", I sighed.
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PC
The last few miles of the half marathon involved a quick loop back through the park and then a straight shot back to the brewery. At one point I could see very clearly for several hundred yards ahead of me and behind me, and in both directions, things were pretty clear. I was still a minute or 2 behind the second place runner and had a couple minutes on the runner behind me, so there was no need to try to push hard to the finish line. I had executed my plan, had hit my markers, and now had a few miles along a straightaway until the finish. The wind had begun to pick up and made the final stretch somewhat more difficult, forcing me to slow my pace. I enjoyed the view of running along the Trinity River in the morning sunlight. As I approached the finish line I suddenly felt hungry as the smells of breakfast coming from the finisher area wafted downwind. I crossed the finish line right on my time goal of 1 hour 27 minutes. It was good for third place! The second place runner was still at the finish line as well. We collected our medals, congratulated each other, and shared a cool-down jog for a mile or so together. I was happy as I walked into the brewery for my post-run celebratory IPA with my friends. Man, running is FUN!!
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| Cheers, mate! |
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G50
"THIS SUCKS!!" I thought as I started out for loop 3. I had now run a 50k in the slop of the Grasslands State Park in a full hour and a half slower than I had run that same distance on this course the year before. I was beyond frustrated and had no idea why I was going back out there again. I tried to reassure myself that surely I had seen the worst of the trail now (wrong again). I had to try to stay positive. If nothing else thinking this kept me moving. My legs were now slashed from the razor-sharp brambles that occupied the fringes of the trail - in an effort to avoid the worst of the mud, I would skirt the trail on the edges searching for better footing, but would as a result be forced to plow headlong through nature's version of razor wire. On the bright side, at least the weather conditions were favorable - cloudy and cool, making it easy to stay on top of nutrition and hydration. I was almost 6 hours in and, as far as hunger and thirst went, felt fine.
Yellow loop was the worst I had faced yet. The trail was now chewed up by the passing of dozens of runners who, earlier in the day, had been running the event's half- and full-marathon distances. The footprints all over the trail made it almost impassable. Trying to climb the smallest of hills was akin to trying to go "up" a "down" escalator. Yet on I went. One slow step at a time. Eventually the mud would subside for a short time allowing for some running again, only to find myself soon stymied again by - yes, more mud. I stopped for a few minutes at the Outback Pond aid station and chatted with the volunteer there. He said "you know you're like in 5th or 6th place right now, you're not that far behind." That news surprised me and gave me a bit of an emotional lift as I set out again.
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| I'm sliding backwards! |
Sure enough, I had made a wrong turn that in the end wound up adding a couple extra miles to my total distance. It was ironic, because the previous year I was able to stay on course while others found themselves turned around and were forced to lose time or even drop out entirely. But I was able to get it done. 50+ miles in chocolate pudding mud! I was proud to claim my buckle and enjoy looking back on the day's trials and tribulations. It offered much to talk (and laugh) about.
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| Both races had one thing in common...cold beer at the finish! |
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| Mah budz.... |
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In looking back over these 2 very different races, I have come to this profound thought: Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you. I'm grateful that I have the ability to run and to share the roads and trails with so many other fine athletes and even finer people. I wish that I could properly communicate the joy that it has brought into my life because even the bad days are, in the end, good days.
Yep. Running is awesome.
