As is usual at trail races put on by the Hill Country Trail Runners, the start was very understated. I think I heard some sort of small dog toy squeezed and this signaled the start. I knew the first mile was one of the nastiest climbs of the course, so I quickly settled in near the back of the pack. There was a light sprinkle at this point, but the rains from the past few days had left the terrain a total mud pit. And not just any type of mud. There is a fair amount of clay in this part of Texas and this made the mud extra sticky.

Since I had never run a race this long this late in the season, I decided to take some salt buffering supplements to stave off cramps. I popped in one pill just before I started and less than a mile into things, I was regretting it. For some reason, the pill already seemed to be doing its magic and I had a nasty case of salty cottonmouth that wouldn’t wash away with swigs of gatorade from my hand-carry bottle. I hoped it would go away soon. By the first real aid station, it was much better.

I strolled into the five mile aid station right about on pace. I wasn’t in any real hurry, but pacing on these runs that don’t have markers every mile becomes important as the distance grows long. It helps me estimate how much further I have left to go. The aid stop was positioned just beyond a break in the woods where some big power lines passed. I dumped my gatorade as it was tasting much too sweet and a volunteer refilled me with some water. I grabbed a small piece of banana and headed out on my way.

I was feeling pretty good at this point but felt I had probably pushed it too hard up Fat Chuck’s Demise (the big hill). I started paying attention to my breathing more and I had already shucked the headphones. It was nice to listen to the rain sprinkling down, the birds chirping, and the occasional “whooaaa” as someone slipped through the mud. At some point, I noticed that I had a large amount of mud above my right knee but had no idea how it got there. I’m guess it got slung from a runner just in front of me because I had yet to fall.

Only 2.5 miles after the first aid stop, I heard music and knew I must be upon another one. I rolled into the station as Robert snapped a picture of me. I nibbled on a slice of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and had my water bottle filled to the top as he asked me about my race so far. I heard the volunteers mention they had popsicles but said they didn’t think they’d go too fast today. For most, the sprinkling rain and mild temperatures were probably on the cool side, but I prefer to run in 45-50 degree weather. A popsicle sure didn’t sound too cold to me but I headed on out of the aid station.

The runners were well spread out by this point and I was pretty much on my own as I wandered through the woods following the trail. Compared to Bandera, this course was really easy to follow and I wasn’t worried about getting lost. A little before the 10 mile mark, I started to feel a bit of fatigue and I considered taking another salt tablet. Remembering the first part of my race, I decided to hold off.

The trail came out of the woods and opened into a really nice meadow where an old truck was parked near a tree. The rain had picked up just slightly and it felt good to feel it hit. I knew the aid station near the 10 mile mark couldn’t be far off and after leaving the meadow, I was soon upon it. I saw some familiar faces and the food table seemed to be growing in variety. I was craving something sweet and the sliced cubes of canteloupe were just the option I was looking for. I asked for a water/gatorade mix but was told they only had Propel here. They filled my bottle up a little over half way and someone asked if I would like a popsicle. Mmm. What could be better? Sam asked me if the popsicle was too hard as it had been on dry ice. While it was tough and sticking to the tongue quite a bit, I wasn’t complaining. I left the aid station in good spirits thanks to the cold treat and the fact that the race was over 2/3 done.

Just after the aid station was one of the deeper water crossings. I splashed through it completely soaking both my feet in the cool water. I could tell my feet were already totally waterlogged but I thankfully couldn’t feel any blisters. At this point in the race, I knew they wouldn’t ever become an issue. Up out of the water, I soon was on Tunnel ‘o Pines and pretty much all by myself. I heard some cows mooing off and on and the rain was still pattering down.

The race started to grow long and I was starting to blame myself for not training a bit harder. After checking my watch and realizing I was still holding a decent pace, I decided that I shouldn’t complain and decided to enjoy the scenery and rain and push myself as much as I could bear. By now I was feeling a bit short on breath and was walking the tougher uphills. I would push until I didn’t feel like it anymore, take a break, and push some more.

Near the end, I got to a section called The Wall and it was a steep down and uphill completely coated in mud. A guy had passed me a ways back and I saw him slide down the hill as he tried to come up the other side. When it was my turn to negotiate this part of the trail, I decided to grab hold of trees and pull myself to drier ground.

Soon I could see the water tower and knew I was near the highway and thus almost at the saloon at the finish. I tried to pick my feet up as much as I could as I jogged down the dirt road and past a lot of spectators. I saw the parking lot on the right and asked where the finish was because I didn’t see the usual clock with big yellow numbers. I ran right beside the finish tent and sat down in a most comfortable blue folding camping chair. A volunteer got me my finisher’s beer glass and a Montrail water bottle and I sat there and soaked up my morning’s journey. After deciding I should get on with it (actually I just wanted to make it home and take a warm bath) I hobbled over to a water hose to wash as much mud as I could off my legs and shoes. I then made it to the car, changed into a dry shirt, shucked off my socks and shoes, and headed home.

I knew this course all too well from last year when I entered the 25K. While there are not mountains on the course, the hills and rocks, not to mention the questionable Texas weather in January, are enough to test even the veteran trail runner. With a good excuse in hand, it took little for the local trail running club members to convince me to give the 50K a shot this year.

The first 16 miles flew by. I was feeling good and the weather was picture perfect. However, after having recently taken over a month off from training due to a recent foot injury, I knew I probably wasnt in shape for this event. Between miles 16 and 22, an out-and-back journey from one of the five aid stations along the course, I really questioned myself for entering the race. But I just kept slugging along, not willing to give up on a goal Ive had for quite some time. When I got to mile 22, I knew I must have looked pretty scary because one of the guys in the 100K event said I had quite a bit of salt dried up all over my face. Nevertheless, I was still wearing a smile and determine to keep pushing.

I reached the final aid station before the finish, conveniently placed 26.1 miles into the course, just ahead of the person who talked me into entering the race. It was nice to see her face and know that I was going to make good on the promise to myself. And thank goodness she was there for me, because not more than half a mile after leaving the aid station, I was about to take a wrong turn!

The last 5 miles were so rewarding. With every step, I knew I was going further than I ever had. I was also reminded of this fact as every muscle up and down both legs was threatening to cramp up on me. I had been fighting these cramps since the 18th mile and knew I was now teetering on the edge of pushing myself too much, but the finish line was much too close to even consider stopping.

As I made the last turn into the open field that contained the finish area, I could hear the volunteers and spectators clapping for me. My sense of accomplishment took over and the cramps just about took me down. Luckily, I was able to gimp my way to the finish without falling down and it certainly felt nice to sit in my green plastic lawn chair after more than eight grueling hours on the trails.