Bandera 100K RR - In My Happy Place

Photo cred: Let's Wander Photography

Bandera had been on my radar for years, but with the race being in early January, the timing always seemed tough after the holidays. This year wasn't really any different, but the thought of knocking out a Western States qualifier early in the year AND the fact that it doesn't require a lottery made this tempting. So many qualifiers now fill up so early that you have to determine your race schedule wildly in advance. 

Looking at my early spring with the Antarctica 50k in March and Boston in April, I realized Bandera would also give me enough time to recover for these two important races. So with 5 weeks to go, I signed up.

Now, I didn't have any business signing up for a trail 100k. It wasn't that I was necessarily worried about finishing (though it’s never a guarantee!), it was that I knew it wasn't going to feel great given my lack of training. My last 2 races were a track 24 hour in November and a road marathon in December. I had endurance and maybe a smidge of road speed, but very few long trail runs. 

But I was ready to go to the well a bit and was highly motivated to knock out a qualifier early so it was game on.

I flew into San Antonio on Friday morning and had plenty of time for a shakeout run around the cute little cowboy town of Bandera, bib pickup, and to relax before the race. I finished a book, worked on my cross-stitch, and got all my gear laid out for race day, all before 5pm!

I fell asleep easily after a long and early day and didn't wake up much in the night. I wasn't really sure about the parking situation at the race since there was only one dusty road going into the park and a field of a few hundred runners. I erred on the side of early and aimed to be there by 6:30 even though it was a 7:30 start. I dropped my bag, got my timing chip, peed, and then hung out in my car until the last possible moment. It was really chilly out, but I knew it would warm up quickly with both the sunrise and the running. 

At the start, I spotted a few friends that I knew were racing and we all said our good lucks as we shivered in the corrals. 

I started in the middle of the pack, knowing it was not a day I was going to be racing for time, but rather one I was racing for finishing. Which seemed a little weird, but I also was then free to enjoy it in a different way. And to no one's surprise but maybe my own, I ended up feeling great all day!

Photo cred: Let's Wander Photography

The course features two 50k loops that wind around Hill Country State Natural Area. It is a fairly runnable course in that it has elevation gain spread over lots of short climbs. The loose, rocky terrain is what makes it tougher in some sections, but I found there were plenty of easy sections too that helped break up the day. 

It was cold to start and I wore a long sleeve and gloves for quite some time before shedding layers and popping on my sunglasses. Even when the sun started to poke out, it never got really hot. I didn’t have any of the aid stations memorized, but knew they were no more than 7 miles apart in the longest stretch with most being around 5 miles apart. This meant that I would be perfectly comfortable carrying two hydration flasks and maybe needing to chug a bit of liquid if it got warmer in that one longer section. I used gels and fruit snacks in the beginning, saving my croissants and more savory/salty snacks for later miles. I have a permanent “eat” reminder set on my watch to go off every 30 minutes and would try to at least nibble on something when I heard it buzz. 

The race was quite crowded in the beginning and there was lots of leap-frogging in the early miles. But it thinned out within an hour or so and there were always people around. The first couple of aid stations were a little crowded, but never chaotic and because I was unconcerned about my time, I didn’t feel rushed to get in and out. I made sure to thank the volunteers for being out there, petted all the dogs I could find, and even struck up a conversation with a crew member who was wearing a Cruel Jewel hat!

I chatted with numerous other runners throughout the day, exclaiming how lucky we were to have such good weather, yelling at the rocks, and wondering how far the next aid station was. A runner behind me that noticed my prayer flags on my pack asked about them. This conversation went down a rabbit hole of my racing resume which made me feel equal parts cringey and proud. 

Photo cred: Let's Wander Photography

The section in the middle part of the course was filled with evil sotol plants and I looked like I had been attacked by a honey badger when I noticed my legs had tiny cuts that were bleeding all over my thighs and shins. 

Sotol aftermath

Sotol aftermath

Luckily, they were all extremely superficial and didn’t really bother me at all. 

Photo cred: Let's Wander Photography

Once getting to what I dubbed the field section, a flat runnable loop, I started to feel the miles wear on me in the first 50k. But, I knew that once I was headed out for loop 2, I was committed to getting it done. I had plenty of time and was still in great spirits, I just could feel the lack of training catching up with me.

At the end of the first 50k, I sat down with my one and only drop bag and shoved a few squares of PBJ and a croissant in my mouth, taking gulps of Sprite to wash it all down. I knew I’d have to walk a bit to keep it all down when I left, but I figured the second half slog was imminent and I didn’t want to feel bonkish. I tossed my second half nutrition bag in my vest, grabbed a headlamp (after making sure it turned on!), and threw a clean long sleeve and gloves in for the night miles. 

Retracing my steps on the second loop felt like a familiar foe, but with everything magnified. The climbs felt steeper and longer, the rocks sharper and looser, and the length between aid stations seemed to be further apart. But, I was in a happy spot. My stomach was cooperating, my legs and feet felt good, and spending my Saturday doing the thing I love had me in good spirits. 

I kept expecting something to go really bad, but the only real troublesome thing for me all day was a headache that stayed with me most of the race. Weird. But if that was my white whale of the day, I’ll take it. I drank some Mountain Dew early on hoping that a smidge of caffeine was what I needed to make it go away, but it clung to me for nearly the entire race. 

I started craving real food as the day wore on and found that broth/ramen revived me. In between aid stations, I picked away at my snacks, trying to get something down in the later miles. I started to countdown to the last few aid stations, feeling a weird mix of sadness and relief that it was going to be over soon. 

As the sun began to set, I was on the hillier section of the course. The skies turned into cotton candy and the impending storm clouds made for a gorgeous sunset. I sat down on a bench at one of the intersections and just soaked it all in, feeling pretty lucky for that moment in time.

Once the sun was behind the hills, I clicked on my headlamp for the remaining miles. It got pretty cold quickly and I put my gloves and long sleeve shirt on. It was harder to stop for longer periods of time now at the aid stations because the lack of movement was making me cold quickly. I started to dream about getting to my car and blasting the heat. And anyone who knows me how warm I usually am can attest that it must have been cold! 

I got soup and a few pieces of sausage at the second to last aid station and was looking forward to the very runnable field section. However, it was very exposed and I wasn’t moving particularly fast so when I came into the final aid station, I was very happy they had soup and hot chocolate! I did a little dancing to stay warm (as one does) while I sipped my soup and crossed my fingers that it would feel less cold once I got away from the field. I left my jacket in the car in the morning, not thinking I’d need it and I highly regret that decision. 

Luckily, it did indeed get warmer once tucked back into the hillier section to the finish. I didn’t even mind the rocks or descending because it was finally warmer and I was about to be done. All the runners and pacers that were around me in that section were happy too as we made our way to the finish line. Once I spotted the Hoka markers, I knew it was time to run it in. 

15:55:40. 

Since I’d never run the exact 100k distance before, this was an auto PR! 

I am happy that I’m in a place to just go out and finish a 100k because I want to and feel really great while doing it. I wouldn’t say it was easy, but there was no (self given) pressure for time or place and some days, it’s pretty fantastic to measure your success by how much joy you can squeeze out of a day. 

January 2024

Yesterday, I was running down the forest service road, bathed in autumn light. The leaves were peaking at the highest altitude and the gusty morning brought piles of them to the forest floor. With gloves on my hands, sunshine and wind in my face, I wished I felt better in the moment.

The morning started off imperfect. I didn't sleep enough. The route I chose took me down a stereotypically country road where angry dogs and their gun-toting owners slept in the pre-dawn hours. But knowing they existed made me hyper aware of every leaf I crunched. A horse bolted across a field towards me at mile 2 and I could feel my heart nearly erupting from my chest. By the time I reached the gravel, I finally felt calm enough to change the battery in my blinking headlamp.

A rusty old truck drove by at mile 6, moving just a few miles per hour faster than me on the deeply rutted road. I kept my eyes and headlamp aimed at the ground, keeping the pace as steady as I could manage. The truck passed without incident and I watched it rumble ahead, the lights disappearing around the curve.

I saw the truck again at the intersection of the AT. Maybe the driver was doing some hiking. Maybe he was picking up hikers. I didn't stick around to find out and hopped onto the dark single-track, a place that I strangely felt far more safe on. Shortly thereafter, a young couple that appeared to be straight out of an REI catalog held their leashed dog to the side of the trail and allowed me to pass.

The sky began to lighten, but the windy passes of Nimblewill were no match for the impending sunshine. I pulled out my jacket and put my gloves on, smiling that at least I had my favorite weather.

I fully expected my morning to turn around after I crested Springer. Surely the light and single-track would give me the much-needed boost. But I veered off into the campsites by accident and had to backtrack. And I couldn't shake the notion that I just felt tired. My feet hurt. My left shin felt sore and my right hip never got loose.

I ate and drank well, but my stomach felt meh for quite some time. I topped off my water filtering in a flowing creek and ate a few pieces of bacon. I waited and waited to feel that little bit of flow and was rewarded with a brief stretch along the BMT heading into Three Forks. It was short-lived and while I never got super low, I found myself unable to shake the funk. The Long Creek waterfall was mostly deserted and I sat on a rock eating an Uncrustable, willing myself to enjoy it for what it was. That I could move myself 30 miles through the woods just because I wanted to.

At UTMB, I ran/hiked every step without music. I carried my headphones through the entire race, thinking I'd want them at some point to just power hike to some EDM. But I kind of forgot about them and then was having such a good experience, I never really needed to be pulled from the abyss. Sometimes I like music even when I'm having a good race though so it's not like I have a correlation to bad race = music.

But in this case, I fired up a playlist thinking it could help turn my brain around. Perhaps I knew it was futile as I chose the country one, full of sadness and whiskey. As I ran down that forest service road bathed in autumn light, I sat with the funk. I thought about stopping briefly to physically bury something. It would be metaphorical, of course, but I thought maybe shoving a rock into a hole might somehow allow me to move on.

I tumbled down the road, letting gravity do the work that my legs didn't seem to want to do. My phone sat uncomfortably in my vest pocket. The jacket was no longer needed. I thought about the food I had left and was underwhelmed.

What should have been a fun descent down Winding Stair to my car was just another 7+ miles of gorgeous views and my poor attitude. It's a strange thing to know you're so deep in the well, but being unable to help yourself. And trust me, I was pulling out all my tricks.

I recognize I probably was not fresh enough to go into this feeling well. And if I were smart, I would have stopped and turned around earlier or hell, never even started. But I was feeling stubborn and expected that I'd eventually feel good.

I'm not generally a fan of doing something that feels terrible just to garner experience. This is a hobby. It should be enjoyable most of the time. But I've also been running long enough to know that they can't all be puppies and rainbow runs. That some days are just complete shit even if conditions are perfect. But it's these days that make the good ones even better. And that rings true in all the other pockets of life.

_______

Beautifully crisp November

Red and yellow leaves against electric blue skies

My hands shoved in my pockets

My face soaking the warmth from the sun

I wasn't sure if I'd get another November

Maybe I'd experienced all my greatest moments

Maybe I'd survived all of the worst ones

Maybe the wavelength began to flatten

But it spiked like never before

And tunneled into depths it had never seen

I felt like a ragdoll thrust into the air

And the ground fell out as gravity took over

_______

Here in the westernmost part of the time zone, we get daylight until close to 6pm this time of year. There's a sliver of time after work that people pour out of their houses, walking their dogs or themselves when the weather is pleasant. It's supposed to rain all day tomorrow so it's likely no one will be out then.

It didn't seem like such a long time ago when we had our house painted last. Time snuck up on me as it seems to have lately. In some ways, I felt exactly the same. Same house, same husband, same hobbies, same kind of dogs.

But there were tipping changes too. A career change. A pandemic. Loss. Loss of life. Loss of independence. Loss of what was. Gain. Gain of ability. Gain of knowledge. Gain of me.

We're lucky we did what we could, when we could. Some of it would be impossible now. I wonder about all the things you took granted, what you wish you had back the most. I'm glad you talked to your mom every day. I know it was hard when she started to need you more than you needed her.

I'm guilty of only reaching out when it's necessary. I'm scared sometimes that I'll lose you. And that I haven't been thankful enough for you giving me the security I need for a safe and comfortable existence.

_______

I was in such a hurry to grow up, to get out, to be in the next chapter. Maybe it would have looked a lot different if I'd gone the traditional route. By the time I arrived at Emory, I already had 2 years of trying to make decisions on my own. In many ways, I fell into the freshman trap of pushing my own limits because I had none. There was no curfew and no one seemed to care if you slept 0 nights in your dorm room or showed up to class. You just failed.

I always showed up to class. But just because my physical body was there didn't mean that I was actually learning anything. I got by well enough. There were a few classes that gave me trouble and I was embarrassed that I couldn't connect the dots in my head.

Or maybe it wasn't that I was trying hard enough. It felt like I was at the time, but looking back, my extracurricular life was a blurry disaster. Especially in my senior year. Living off campus meant driving in every day. I picked early classes on purpose so I'd have the rest of my day free. I'd still arrive early and sleep in my car for 10, 15 minutes until it was time to walk to class.

I'd fall asleep in the stacks or on a park bench in the quad. I'd read and read and read and realize that I hadn't actually soaked up any of the words. I'd just been lying my eyes over them, but my brain was somewhere else.

A burger from Burger King and an apple will remind me of this time. A regular lunch that feels highly remnant of my eating disorder days. I'd yo-yoed quite a lot after my recovery and struggled to find a comfortable rhythm with food and movement. This lunch felt like a pull from both sides and if I'm being honest with myself, is where I'd find myself frequently for the rest of my life. Cake and salad. Burger and fruit. Naughty and nice.

Anyway, I was so fixated on being grown that I pushed a lot of the college experience away by that point. I had one foot in the college world and one foot in a sad reality of young adulthood. My days were spent with the movers and shakers of the world, brilliant young minds preparing themselves to become surgeons, judges, and CEOs. My nights were spent either making a few bucks at a low-wage job or holed up in a shitty apartment with my boyfriend and our roommate, watching terrible movies and making bad decisions.

Looking back, it’s not hard to see why I was a failure to launch. Part of me wishes to blame all the things other than my own self, but there was plenty of sabotage of opportunity. I was given all the tools to reach my goals, but something in me just couldn’t hold tight to that ambition. It’s hard to know what my trajectory would have been and who’s to say I would be any more or less happier, fulfilled, etc. at this juncture in my life. Our society looks to wealth and power as success, but that success doesn’t always equal happiness.
________

I want to eat a pile of burrata oozing from atop a pile of freshly picked tomatoes. I want to feel scalding hot water pummel my skin until it turns red and pruny. I want to listen to that song one more time, the volume so loud you cannot hear me screaming the chorus.

________

I'm staring at the ceiling with my head against the glass. My friends are all chatting, jovial in the moment we've come together. The children are behaving, the other patrons talking happily amongst themselves, and the kitchen amid the dining room buzzing with activity. No one notices at first, which I'm happy about as there is no immediate danger. I just need a little extra time for the bleeding to stop. I pinch my nose with a handful of rough napkins hoping to not draw too much attention to myself.

Turmoil is thread through each relationship. Fighting different demons, but demons nonetheless. I think about the innocence of the hour and how we all shove those things aside because in this pocket of time, we do actually forget.

Partly because that's what we do in a civilized society. Putting our best faces forward to not mar our network. Even the longest and deepest friendships require periods of harmony, where no one is weighing on each other. But we shove them aside because we all strive to actually enjoy it for what it is. A calm amidst the chaos. A reaffirmation that there are indeed pockets of joy without any sacrifice or agenda. That where you are and what you're doing often matters very little when you're happy with who you're with.