Hugging my light running jacket around me, I casually told Olga that, because I had so much time on the course before Joe's cut-off, "I was planning on trotting out at the start, but walking a majority of the race." "No, this is a once in a lifetime chance, run it!" From the tone of her voice, I knew I didn't have much of a choice.
Kyle and I had arrived at Camp Eagle, three and a half hours west of Austin in Rocksprings, Texas, late in the evening and had slept in the car. Around 4:30 a.m. or so, we woke up, stumbled up to the Lodge, picked up our packets, and began eating "breakfast," which consisted of peanut butter crackers. I was just following my brother's lead, although I opted out of the cinnamon roll he was all but inhaling. I was a bit too sleepy to be all that anxious, plus I knew I would be able to finish the race before the cutoff, no matter how slowly I moved.
Kyle was running the 50K, so I saw him off sometime before the sun rose. "Those people are insane," I thought to myself. I somehow entertained myself for the next hour until it was time for me to set out on the course. By that time, the sun had risen and we were lining up to begin. I found myself swept up in the runners, traversing unknown trails, twisting back and forth on themselves, climbing to the top of one of the hills of the course. By the time I made it to the first aid station, I was warmed up and excited for what I was about to do. I took a small piece of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, about a quarter of one, in fact, and was on my way. As I headed out of the aid station, I thought this whole race may not be so difficult at all considering the first handful of miles.
Ha! I suddenly found myself grabbing at branches, sliding down rocky hills, and finally climbing along one of the rockiest hills I've ever come across. All of this finally eased us onto a Jeep road, hurtling down toward another set of trails, and finally dropping us into the second aid station. Excitement again set in: I knew the scenery that had convinced me to sign up for the race in the first place was in the next section of the course. Another quarter of a PB&J and off I set. I didn't notice the fatigue, dehydration, or generally slowing I'd experienced.
I don't recall if I ran out of the aid station, if I limped, or if I casually walked out. Regardless, by the end of the next section of the course, I was spent. The next section was mostly exposed, along the fence line, traversing an incredible number of ridiculous rocks I, to this day, cannot understand how they got there. By this point, my ankles were swollen with strain and sprain, I had to use the restroom, and the heat was becoming unbearable. I kept moving.
I left the last aid station, with about a mile and a half or two miles to go, in high spirits. I'd already moved over more ground in one "go" than I ever had! Off I went: down a short, rocky hill, across the "water crossing," past the Lodge, across a ridiculously shaky bridge, and into the finish. If you look at the race photos, I have a coy smile on my face, content with my humble accomplishment: 15.5 miles! "Imagine the awe it will inspire!," I thought. Again, the tears flowed. Thankfully, I was able to hold them in until I was back at my car, where I promptly fell asleep for a few hours until my brother finished his 50K. Shortly after he finished, we were on our way back to Austin. And as simply as it had all begun, it was over. My feat was achieved. What next? Well, Hell's Hills 50K was right around the corner, but how do I train for it? What about my sprained ankles? How do I even wrap my head around that distance?
Nueces 25K, Rocksprings, Texas
March 5, 2011
4:09:53
Kyle and I had arrived at Camp Eagle, three and a half hours west of Austin in Rocksprings, Texas, late in the evening and had slept in the car. Around 4:30 a.m. or so, we woke up, stumbled up to the Lodge, picked up our packets, and began eating "breakfast," which consisted of peanut butter crackers. I was just following my brother's lead, although I opted out of the cinnamon roll he was all but inhaling. I was a bit too sleepy to be all that anxious, plus I knew I would be able to finish the race before the cutoff, no matter how slowly I moved.
Kyle was running the 50K, so I saw him off sometime before the sun rose. "Those people are insane," I thought to myself. I somehow entertained myself for the next hour until it was time for me to set out on the course. By that time, the sun had risen and we were lining up to begin. I found myself swept up in the runners, traversing unknown trails, twisting back and forth on themselves, climbing to the top of one of the hills of the course. By the time I made it to the first aid station, I was warmed up and excited for what I was about to do. I took a small piece of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, about a quarter of one, in fact, and was on my way. As I headed out of the aid station, I thought this whole race may not be so difficult at all considering the first handful of miles.
Ha! I suddenly found myself grabbing at branches, sliding down rocky hills, and finally climbing along one of the rockiest hills I've ever come across. All of this finally eased us onto a Jeep road, hurtling down toward another set of trails, and finally dropping us into the second aid station. Excitement again set in: I knew the scenery that had convinced me to sign up for the race in the first place was in the next section of the course. Another quarter of a PB&J and off I set. I didn't notice the fatigue, dehydration, or generally slowing I'd experienced.
I don't recall if I ran out of the aid station, if I limped, or if I casually walked out. Regardless, by the end of the next section of the course, I was spent. The next section was mostly exposed, along the fence line, traversing an incredible number of ridiculous rocks I, to this day, cannot understand how they got there. By this point, my ankles were swollen with strain and sprain, I had to use the restroom, and the heat was becoming unbearable. I kept moving.
I left the last aid station, with about a mile and a half or two miles to go, in high spirits. I'd already moved over more ground in one "go" than I ever had! Off I went: down a short, rocky hill, across the "water crossing," past the Lodge, across a ridiculously shaky bridge, and into the finish. If you look at the race photos, I have a coy smile on my face, content with my humble accomplishment: 15.5 miles! "Imagine the awe it will inspire!," I thought. Again, the tears flowed. Thankfully, I was able to hold them in until I was back at my car, where I promptly fell asleep for a few hours until my brother finished his 50K. Shortly after he finished, we were on our way back to Austin. And as simply as it had all begun, it was over. My feat was achieved. What next? Well, Hell's Hills 50K was right around the corner, but how do I train for it? What about my sprained ankles? How do I even wrap my head around that distance?
Nueces 25K, Rocksprings, Texas
March 5, 2011
4:09:53
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