Well, yet another surprising and only slightly less unremarkable race than Nueces 2013. A quick and dirty synopsis: Bang! Run, run, run. Whine to David Land. Pout. Deep sigh. Run, run, run. Trip. Run, run, WIND, finish. You placed! Really? Awesome! Okay, time for some Thundercloud and a wedding.
And for the long version:
Though the lead up to Hell's Hills wasn't as stressful a time as it was for Nueces, I was looking forward to a solid long run. At the same time, I was anxious about how the race would affect the rest of the weekend. Surprisingly, the race was not the most important aspect of the weekend. Rather, we were going to Austin for the wedding of a good, good friend of mine to a wonderful, other friend of mine. Smithville and Hell's Hills happened to be right in the middle, so why not? Another ultra under the belt for me, and a solid weekend long run for Ben.
Considering how well the pre-race nutrition for Nueces worked, I decided to replicate it as near as I could. I didn't track what I ate the week leading up to Nueces, but I did write down my pre-race day meals. So, on Friday, I ate exactly the same thing as I ate the Friday before Nueces, and at the same time of day as well. I also caffeinated the same way on race morning.
We headed out of Houston around 5:30 p.m. After we got on the other side of Houston's notorious traffic, it was smooth sailing in to Rocky Hill Ranch. We quickly found our car-camping spot, got comfortable, and tucked in for the evening after a few rounds of Words With Friends. Thankfully it was only slightly chilly outside, so we didn't need to sleep with the car running for heat. Surprisingly, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly and got fairly restful sleep. Four in the morning wasn't entirely welcome, but it wasn't as rude as it could have been. Unfortunately, Ben didn't fare so well in the sleep department. Even more unfortunately, this followed him the remainder of the weekend.
Around 4:15 a.m., I downed some Diet Dr. Pepper, changed my clothes, and waited for time to pass before the final count down. We chatted, found Dave Silvestro, chatted about this, that, and the other some more with Dave, and generally watched the minutes tick away, with a few trips to the Port-o-Johns tucked in there. Around a quarter to gun time, I ambled over to the start line to warm up and get ready. I confirmed the location of my drop bag, flipped on my iPod shuffle, and squirreled myself away in the throng. Five, four, three, two, one...go! "Take it slow," I told myself.
I knew the course would be, at the very least, sticky after the recent rains, so I kept my line of sight straight at the shoes in front of me. I knew they would direct me around the mud and water instead of into the mud and water. By and large, this turned out to be a good strategy. There was one instance in which this led me into a thicket of branches, damp leaves, and who knows what when I blindly followed the runner in front of me, but we quickly got back on course. As with all of Joe's races, the crowd eventually thinned and I found myself running free, with only the sounds of a few other foot falls behind me.
I can't quite remember who piped up first, but I eventually got to talking to a runner behind me named Matt.. I found out he was in nursing school through the Army and this was his first ultramarathon. Even though he was an Aggie, I was ecstatic for the conversation and the friendly and enthusiastic attitude. Those first 5-7 miles are always my most difficult. Once I get through the first aid station, I loosen up and accept what is going to take place that day. Until then, I'm anxious and irritable. Any distraction is fantastic. Shortly after Matt asked "where is this aid station?" we came upon it.
As I'm wont to do, I breezed through the aid station to make it on to the next. More so, however, I was looking forward to getting to the field of flowers. The field of flowers is an open meadow, with only a few cross fences, full of wild flowers. It is on the tail end of the middle portion of the course after winding through bush thickets, trees, and one section I call "the rainforest." Unfortunately, the field of flowers was less impressive this year, but beautiful nonetheless. The dew resting about two or three feet from the ground always takes my breath away, often precipitating a few stumbles as I take it all in.
I came upon the meadow sooner than I anticipated. I felt loose and fresh, ready to finish up the back third of the course. I always forget how challenging the back third is, though. It is full of sharp twists, winding turns, steep descents and ascents, and a bit more humidity as the hours while away. I tackled it with gusto after running through the Tunnel of Pines aid station. I wasn't thirsty and my energy was still level. The only issue I'd been experiencing, in fact, were some nagging, though slight, pains in my left knee. A bit of IT-related pain, and some pain on the top and inner knee cap. I started to question whether a second loop would be worthwhile, what with the Army Marathon in two weeks. Considering Hell's Hills was a "why not" race, while the Army Marathon was a run I intended to finish in honor of my Dad, the second loop wasn't looking to be in the cards.
I kept reminding myself that IT band issues are just irritations and relievable. A second loop wouldn't affect my ability to run the Army Marathon. "You're just being lazy," I told myself, "just get out on the second loop and stop whining." It was an adorable inner dialogue (debate?) with myself, I assure you.
I ambled in to the start-finish fully intending to call it a day. Ben would be finishing soon, and cranking out another 25K may make us late to the wedding, I reasoned. I pled my case to David Land as he handed out 10K and 25K medals. He wasn't really having it. He told me to cool it for fifteen minutes and see how I felt. In the process, I ran into a good friend of mine, Ashley Stanley. Her husband had just finished the 25K like a boss, so she was hanging out at the start-finish, waiting for other friends to finish their races. We caught up briefly, then her friend offered me the use of his BioFreeze. "I don't know what that is," I said, hoping it wouldn't develop into one less excuse for my quitting. His eyes lit up as he told me how wonderful it was, and he bounded off to get his bottle before I could say anything. Shortly after rolling it all over my left knee, I knew my excuses were running ragged.
Suck. It. Up. "Alright, Kim. Earbuds in, let's go." Off I went. I hollered at David that I'd be back in a few hours. He didn't seem surprised at my decision. Trotting toward loop two, I tapped back into my focus and resolve. Unfortunately, my self-haggling led me to forget my Lara bar. About four miles or so into the loop, my stomach started hollering.
As with the first loop, the first aid station never comes soon enough on the second loop. However, I know that if I get in and out of the first aid station on the second loop, the finish is in the bag, barring any debilitating injury. When I finally rolled in, I gobbled some oranges and some water, and began my steady trot again. Soon enough, I came upon a runner with a steady and solid pace. I sheepishly fell in stride behind him.
I knew I was close on his heels, but I decided to ride it out until he got irritated enough to make me pass him. I knew what I was doing, but my ankles hurt so much that selfishness got the better of me. I just knew if I kept up with his pace, we'd be upon the second aid station in good--great--time. Unfortunately, a root got the better of him and he tumbled. He waved me on and, to my surprise, thanked me for motivating and pushing him for however long we'd been running together. I was so taken by his comment, I couldn't put two words together to let him know he'd been the one pulling me! Thankfully, I ran into him at the finish and we exchanged thanks for keeping each other going on that particular stretch. Such team work and mutual help is nearly unheard of in road racing. Another tick on the positive side for trail and ultra racing...
I tried to keep the same pace after I left my new found friend, but I knew I was speeding up a bit. I assured myself it would be less dangerous because it was the last loop. "Leave it all out here," I told myself, "like you should have last year." I finally came across the field of flowers and knew things were about to get interesting.
My ankles were on fire. My knees, blown. My stomach sloshed louder than the wave pool at Schlitterbahn on opening weekend. All of that being said, my energy was still level and my mind seemed ready for the strong finish. I briefly stopped in at Tunnel of Pines for more water and oranges. I felt the bright energy burst of the oranges and high tailed it out of there.
When another runner asked me how many of "these 50Ks" I'd done and I couldn't come up with the answer, I knew I needed to double-down on the focus. My brain wasn't wanting to function, which isn't a good sign. Thankfully, I was less than five miles to the finish.
"Kim, if you keep running steady, you will be done in less than an hour. Just keep running, simple as that."
So, I kept running. Simple as that. The winds were interesting, as were the river rocks. The descents and ascents were brutal on the ankles, but I recalled my first year on the course, where I could hardly walk without crying out in pain. I had to finish the race only after ditching a walking stick another runner had found for me. I was much further in my running today than ever before. This seemed to help my feet keep turning over toward the finish.
I kept at it. Soon, Paul Terranova bounded past me as if he were out for a quick jaunt in the middle of the week. I pined for the energy, but kept at what I had going for me. I could see the signs of the end of the course. My mind was waiting for the cattle guards. Those meant we were closer to the front of the property; closer to the first set of camping tents; closer to the red barn; and closer to the finish.
There they were, the cattle guards with the wooden boards over them to prevent sprained ankles. I tightened my form and kept the pace. I followed the woman in front of me, who seemed to blaze by out of nowhere with energy to spare.
I ambled down the single track, through another gate, and saw the flags waving in the heavy wind. As I came onto the straight away to the finish, the wind picked up in a strong way. I was struggling beyond belief to keep my pace in spite of the wind. All I could do was focus on the finish line coming closer.
Finally, the wind was a non-issue and I could experience the joy of the finish. With a little dance, and a random jump: BEEP BEEP! Two beeps for a finisher! I was jazzed by the grin on David and Joe's faces, and laughed at David's comment that I was in better spirits than earlier. I wasn't surprised by Joe's handshake either.
However, I was surprised by Joe's ensuing comments: "Hey, stick around. We're not sure where you are but you're in the top five. I want you to get your trophy, we just need to figure out the order."
I feel strange calling these past two races "unremarkable," but that's the best word for them. They simply were decisions to keep running. Simple as that. Nothing special, as far as I can tell.
Honestly, I'm not sure how this happened again. It's not as if I do speed or track work ever. I don't do proclaimed tempo runs or fast-paced runs or back-to-backs or anything like that (I don't even know what have of those special-named runs are, actually). I just do straight miles, with long runs being carb-depleting runs so I don't have to fuel as much during a race. That's the extent of the technicality of my training. A few bouts of weight training during the week, otherwise.
At the same time, I'm incredibly proud of my finish at both Nueces and Hell's Hills this year. Two years ago, Hell's Hills marked my first ultramarathon. It was an awful race full of naiveté and foolhardy stubbornness. I finished dead last. Such an accomplishment that I even got a trophy to mark the occasion. Two years later, I walk away with a different kind of trophy entirely. Quite the uplifting and humbling experience.
I'm not sure where all of this is going. I continue to reflect on my finish at Nueces, and now at Hell's Hills. I try to determine the source of those finishes. From the best that I can ascertain, it's me getting out there with healthy doses of respect for the race, confidence in my ability, and a determination to have a good time on the course. That's the best I can say at this point.
The finish was marked by great camaraderie at the HCTR BBQ and Picnic. The party after Hell's Hills always is a blast; the people incredible. I wish Ben and I had been able to stay longer, but the wedding drew nearer as we lounged at Rocky Hill Ranch.
After collecting my trophy (!), we hobbled over to the car. As is my tendency, I organized the car and bags, tucked Chuck (my trophy) into his spot in the back seat, and we high tailed it to lunch at Thundercloud. A mere seven hours later, I sported some killer platform, suede and leather espadrilles, a flouncy and flowery cocktail dress, and shiny curls. Ben transformed with his slick navy pinstripe suit. Strangers to the morning, we waltzed into the evening for our next adventure...
Hell's Hills 50K
Rocky Hill Ranch, Smithville, Texas
5:58:04
Third Place Female Finish
And for the long version:
Though the lead up to Hell's Hills wasn't as stressful a time as it was for Nueces, I was looking forward to a solid long run. At the same time, I was anxious about how the race would affect the rest of the weekend. Surprisingly, the race was not the most important aspect of the weekend. Rather, we were going to Austin for the wedding of a good, good friend of mine to a wonderful, other friend of mine. Smithville and Hell's Hills happened to be right in the middle, so why not? Another ultra under the belt for me, and a solid weekend long run for Ben.
Considering how well the pre-race nutrition for Nueces worked, I decided to replicate it as near as I could. I didn't track what I ate the week leading up to Nueces, but I did write down my pre-race day meals. So, on Friday, I ate exactly the same thing as I ate the Friday before Nueces, and at the same time of day as well. I also caffeinated the same way on race morning.
We headed out of Houston around 5:30 p.m. After we got on the other side of Houston's notorious traffic, it was smooth sailing in to Rocky Hill Ranch. We quickly found our car-camping spot, got comfortable, and tucked in for the evening after a few rounds of Words With Friends. Thankfully it was only slightly chilly outside, so we didn't need to sleep with the car running for heat. Surprisingly, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly and got fairly restful sleep. Four in the morning wasn't entirely welcome, but it wasn't as rude as it could have been. Unfortunately, Ben didn't fare so well in the sleep department. Even more unfortunately, this followed him the remainder of the weekend.
Around 4:15 a.m., I downed some Diet Dr. Pepper, changed my clothes, and waited for time to pass before the final count down. We chatted, found Dave Silvestro, chatted about this, that, and the other some more with Dave, and generally watched the minutes tick away, with a few trips to the Port-o-Johns tucked in there. Around a quarter to gun time, I ambled over to the start line to warm up and get ready. I confirmed the location of my drop bag, flipped on my iPod shuffle, and squirreled myself away in the throng. Five, four, three, two, one...go! "Take it slow," I told myself.
I knew the course would be, at the very least, sticky after the recent rains, so I kept my line of sight straight at the shoes in front of me. I knew they would direct me around the mud and water instead of into the mud and water. By and large, this turned out to be a good strategy. There was one instance in which this led me into a thicket of branches, damp leaves, and who knows what when I blindly followed the runner in front of me, but we quickly got back on course. As with all of Joe's races, the crowd eventually thinned and I found myself running free, with only the sounds of a few other foot falls behind me.
I can't quite remember who piped up first, but I eventually got to talking to a runner behind me named Matt.. I found out he was in nursing school through the Army and this was his first ultramarathon. Even though he was an Aggie, I was ecstatic for the conversation and the friendly and enthusiastic attitude. Those first 5-7 miles are always my most difficult. Once I get through the first aid station, I loosen up and accept what is going to take place that day. Until then, I'm anxious and irritable. Any distraction is fantastic. Shortly after Matt asked "where is this aid station?" we came upon it.
As I'm wont to do, I breezed through the aid station to make it on to the next. More so, however, I was looking forward to getting to the field of flowers. The field of flowers is an open meadow, with only a few cross fences, full of wild flowers. It is on the tail end of the middle portion of the course after winding through bush thickets, trees, and one section I call "the rainforest." Unfortunately, the field of flowers was less impressive this year, but beautiful nonetheless. The dew resting about two or three feet from the ground always takes my breath away, often precipitating a few stumbles as I take it all in.
I came upon the meadow sooner than I anticipated. I felt loose and fresh, ready to finish up the back third of the course. I always forget how challenging the back third is, though. It is full of sharp twists, winding turns, steep descents and ascents, and a bit more humidity as the hours while away. I tackled it with gusto after running through the Tunnel of Pines aid station. I wasn't thirsty and my energy was still level. The only issue I'd been experiencing, in fact, were some nagging, though slight, pains in my left knee. A bit of IT-related pain, and some pain on the top and inner knee cap. I started to question whether a second loop would be worthwhile, what with the Army Marathon in two weeks. Considering Hell's Hills was a "why not" race, while the Army Marathon was a run I intended to finish in honor of my Dad, the second loop wasn't looking to be in the cards.
I kept reminding myself that IT band issues are just irritations and relievable. A second loop wouldn't affect my ability to run the Army Marathon. "You're just being lazy," I told myself, "just get out on the second loop and stop whining." It was an adorable inner dialogue (debate?) with myself, I assure you.
I ambled in to the start-finish fully intending to call it a day. Ben would be finishing soon, and cranking out another 25K may make us late to the wedding, I reasoned. I pled my case to David Land as he handed out 10K and 25K medals. He wasn't really having it. He told me to cool it for fifteen minutes and see how I felt. In the process, I ran into a good friend of mine, Ashley Stanley. Her husband had just finished the 25K like a boss, so she was hanging out at the start-finish, waiting for other friends to finish their races. We caught up briefly, then her friend offered me the use of his BioFreeze. "I don't know what that is," I said, hoping it wouldn't develop into one less excuse for my quitting. His eyes lit up as he told me how wonderful it was, and he bounded off to get his bottle before I could say anything. Shortly after rolling it all over my left knee, I knew my excuses were running ragged.
Suck. It. Up. "Alright, Kim. Earbuds in, let's go." Off I went. I hollered at David that I'd be back in a few hours. He didn't seem surprised at my decision. Trotting toward loop two, I tapped back into my focus and resolve. Unfortunately, my self-haggling led me to forget my Lara bar. About four miles or so into the loop, my stomach started hollering.
As with the first loop, the first aid station never comes soon enough on the second loop. However, I know that if I get in and out of the first aid station on the second loop, the finish is in the bag, barring any debilitating injury. When I finally rolled in, I gobbled some oranges and some water, and began my steady trot again. Soon enough, I came upon a runner with a steady and solid pace. I sheepishly fell in stride behind him.
I knew I was close on his heels, but I decided to ride it out until he got irritated enough to make me pass him. I knew what I was doing, but my ankles hurt so much that selfishness got the better of me. I just knew if I kept up with his pace, we'd be upon the second aid station in good--great--time. Unfortunately, a root got the better of him and he tumbled. He waved me on and, to my surprise, thanked me for motivating and pushing him for however long we'd been running together. I was so taken by his comment, I couldn't put two words together to let him know he'd been the one pulling me! Thankfully, I ran into him at the finish and we exchanged thanks for keeping each other going on that particular stretch. Such team work and mutual help is nearly unheard of in road racing. Another tick on the positive side for trail and ultra racing...
I tried to keep the same pace after I left my new found friend, but I knew I was speeding up a bit. I assured myself it would be less dangerous because it was the last loop. "Leave it all out here," I told myself, "like you should have last year." I finally came across the field of flowers and knew things were about to get interesting.
My ankles were on fire. My knees, blown. My stomach sloshed louder than the wave pool at Schlitterbahn on opening weekend. All of that being said, my energy was still level and my mind seemed ready for the strong finish. I briefly stopped in at Tunnel of Pines for more water and oranges. I felt the bright energy burst of the oranges and high tailed it out of there.
When another runner asked me how many of "these 50Ks" I'd done and I couldn't come up with the answer, I knew I needed to double-down on the focus. My brain wasn't wanting to function, which isn't a good sign. Thankfully, I was less than five miles to the finish.
"Kim, if you keep running steady, you will be done in less than an hour. Just keep running, simple as that."
So, I kept running. Simple as that. The winds were interesting, as were the river rocks. The descents and ascents were brutal on the ankles, but I recalled my first year on the course, where I could hardly walk without crying out in pain. I had to finish the race only after ditching a walking stick another runner had found for me. I was much further in my running today than ever before. This seemed to help my feet keep turning over toward the finish.
I kept at it. Soon, Paul Terranova bounded past me as if he were out for a quick jaunt in the middle of the week. I pined for the energy, but kept at what I had going for me. I could see the signs of the end of the course. My mind was waiting for the cattle guards. Those meant we were closer to the front of the property; closer to the first set of camping tents; closer to the red barn; and closer to the finish.
There they were, the cattle guards with the wooden boards over them to prevent sprained ankles. I tightened my form and kept the pace. I followed the woman in front of me, who seemed to blaze by out of nowhere with energy to spare.
I ambled down the single track, through another gate, and saw the flags waving in the heavy wind. As I came onto the straight away to the finish, the wind picked up in a strong way. I was struggling beyond belief to keep my pace in spite of the wind. All I could do was focus on the finish line coming closer.
Finally, the wind was a non-issue and I could experience the joy of the finish. With a little dance, and a random jump: BEEP BEEP! Two beeps for a finisher! I was jazzed by the grin on David and Joe's faces, and laughed at David's comment that I was in better spirits than earlier. I wasn't surprised by Joe's handshake either.
However, I was surprised by Joe's ensuing comments: "Hey, stick around. We're not sure where you are but you're in the top five. I want you to get your trophy, we just need to figure out the order."
I feel strange calling these past two races "unremarkable," but that's the best word for them. They simply were decisions to keep running. Simple as that. Nothing special, as far as I can tell.
Honestly, I'm not sure how this happened again. It's not as if I do speed or track work ever. I don't do proclaimed tempo runs or fast-paced runs or back-to-backs or anything like that (I don't even know what have of those special-named runs are, actually). I just do straight miles, with long runs being carb-depleting runs so I don't have to fuel as much during a race. That's the extent of the technicality of my training. A few bouts of weight training during the week, otherwise.
At the same time, I'm incredibly proud of my finish at both Nueces and Hell's Hills this year. Two years ago, Hell's Hills marked my first ultramarathon. It was an awful race full of naiveté and foolhardy stubbornness. I finished dead last. Such an accomplishment that I even got a trophy to mark the occasion. Two years later, I walk away with a different kind of trophy entirely. Quite the uplifting and humbling experience.
I'm not sure where all of this is going. I continue to reflect on my finish at Nueces, and now at Hell's Hills. I try to determine the source of those finishes. From the best that I can ascertain, it's me getting out there with healthy doses of respect for the race, confidence in my ability, and a determination to have a good time on the course. That's the best I can say at this point.
The finish was marked by great camaraderie at the HCTR BBQ and Picnic. The party after Hell's Hills always is a blast; the people incredible. I wish Ben and I had been able to stay longer, but the wedding drew nearer as we lounged at Rocky Hill Ranch.
After collecting my trophy (!), we hobbled over to the car. As is my tendency, I organized the car and bags, tucked Chuck (my trophy) into his spot in the back seat, and we high tailed it to lunch at Thundercloud. A mere seven hours later, I sported some killer platform, suede and leather espadrilles, a flouncy and flowery cocktail dress, and shiny curls. Ben transformed with his slick navy pinstripe suit. Strangers to the morning, we waltzed into the evening for our next adventure...
Hell's Hills 50K
Rocky Hill Ranch, Smithville, Texas
5:58:04
Third Place Female Finish
3rd place female!
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