Event: Shannon Trail Race 1
Distance: 10K
Date: 2025-01-18, Sat, 8:00a
Location: San Angelo, TX; Middle Concho Park
Event Host: San Angelo Road Lizards (SARL)
This is the first in a 3 race series hosted by the San Angelo Road Lizards.
I first discovered the series in time to register for the 2023 races. Registration is very inexpensive and I love San Angelo State Park, where two of the three races are held. Unfortunately, rotator cuff repair surgery on my left shoulder kept me from doing more than Race 1 in 2023.
(When looking through old photos from the 2023 race, I finally realized I had been at this park before. Most of it is a total blank, the route to the park, the way the park looked, I even commented to the Race Director it was my first time on the course, “I liked it.” Now I know why I kept getting weird flashes of déjà vu! Especially when I got to the Christmas tree. Getting old sucks!)
I registered again for the 2024 series… Surprise! Rotator cuff repair surgery on my right shoulder. No races for me last year until May.
I’ve registered for the 2025 series (third time’s the charm, right?) and no surgery scheduled this year! 😁
I planned on keeping my cost down to the bare minimum. Gas for the 7 hr round trip1, one night primitive camping in the city park—where the race was being held—and only what food I took with me.
I’d been planning on camping in the bed of my truck under the Softopper®. It has an aluminum frame support and snaps down in about 50 places. Unfortunately, it’s on the back of my truck. Which is still in the shop. 7 weeks after I dropped it off on Christmas Eve. <sigh> Not to worry, though. I had a backup.
I’d picked up a truck bed tent on clearance the same week I bought the truck. It was about a month later before Dad gifted me with the Softopper®, tailgate tent extender, and side rails. I used the tent at Pandora’s Box o’ Rox, in April showers, and at Possum’s Revenge, on an amazingly cool night in May. (No race reports on those, though.)
Top: At Pandora, and that tarp didn’t last long before it was flapping in the wind. Fortunately someone came and told me before it went kiting across the pasture—it helped that I’d actually attached it to the fence. 😉
Middle left to right: (l) At Possum Kingdom, freshly set up for the night. (m) Night time view inside. (r) Another one from Pandora with my feet hanging off the tailgate.
Bottom: Pandora again, Friday sunset as seen from my bed in my truck bed.
Camping at the city park was first-come first-serve, so I didn’t have a reservation. When I arrived there was no one in the booth. The nearby “park use” sign indicated day use of the park was free after labor day and until the first weekend in March. However, it also indicated camping permits were required year round. No accompanying instructions on how to get a permit if the booth wasn’t manned2. Free?
I liked the looks of the park. Clean, well kept? Check.
Bathroom with showers? Check.
Plenty of available campsites? Che—
It wasn’t just the booth that was deserted. The park itself had a total of two (TWO!) vehicles and they were not campers. The park wasn’t looking quite so good if I was going to be there alone…overnight…on the outskirts of San Angelo…with an untested canister of pepper spray my only protection…
“I wonder if the state park has any campsites available?” 😁
As I was leaving Middle Concho Park, I noted a haze in the air. Smoke?
A bend in the road and a longer sight line showed what was clearly dust sweeping across the highway ahead, not smoke. After turning into a neighborhood (on my way to a McDonald’s for a cup of coffee), I saw further evidence. Mini-tornadoes of leaves and dirt twisting there way across the boulevard.
Now, I had had prior warning. The week leading up to this trip, the weather app had been showing those white lines with the curls on the end indicating it was going to be windy. I thought, “Sure, sure. I’ve dealt with the wind of thunderstorms on top of Chisos. No worries.” Yeah, girl. Keep talkin’ that smack.
I obviously didn’t grasp how much wind that cute little icon could represent. Particularly when it wasn’t accompanied by tornado and/or hurricane warnings! I got my first inkling sitting in line at McDonald’s, feeling the truck shudder and buck. Weather app showed wind gusts around 30mph.
“I wonder if the state park has any cabins available?”
They did. $50 a night and a two night minimum for the weekend. The lodging tab I’d expected to be $10, actually came out to $106—after my pass discount and adding hotel occupancy tax. Quite a bit more money but I think I enjoyed it more than I would have a hotel. It kept me in the spirit of the trip. Well, sort of. The cabin did have heat, and I damn well used it!
If the polar vortex hadn’t been sweeping into Texas Saturday night, I would have stayed on that second night. As it was, Dad was happy with the new lodging arrangement. He’d been worrying and making noises in the days before I left for Austin. You’d think I was a teenager rather than a senior citizen.
Although, in all fairness, I am still his daughter. Guess I can give him a break on that count.😉
Note to self: Add a full size sheet set to your bedding pack. Fortunately, I’d brought my sleeping bag and my thermal blankets worked as the bed covering.
I was a little disappointed I couldn’t use my tent. I wanted a picture of it that I could send to the service department “working” on my truck. While I miss the manual transmission, 4WD, and the toll tag of my 2016, I should thank them for the new 2024 and the mileage I’m saving on my “old” guy. I could have really used that ‘topper this weekend, though. I wouldn’t have had to pay for a cabin. I’m half tempted to stop on my way through Waco this week and move it over onto the loaner truck.
Say, that’s actually a pretty good idea. I could use it for Tyler this coming weekend.
Okay, okay. Race morning! (Have I mentioned I’m NOT a morning person?)
I hit the snooze three times knowing it meant a long hike to get to the start/finish—exactly .42 miles, as it turned out. (I’m always amazed at the people that drive straight on past the line of parked cars, looking for a spot closer. Like everybody just started parking along the road so we could leave the closer spots for them.)
Wind gusts were gone, but it was around 35°F. Not desperately cold. At least not for the people dressed in shorts and tank tops. I kid you not! Myself, I ended up double layering, suspecting I’d regret it after I got moving.
I did, but I’d stopped myself from doubling up my socks, so I managed. I did wish for a winter hat and heavier gloves, though.
We started at 8:00 AM, the sun just starting to brighten things up. It was apparent pretty quickly I was the only power walker/runner in the group. The 5K runners, who started 10 minutes after the 10K group, began lapping me less than a mile out. To be fair to myself, the hardest climb was in that first mile.
Gorgeous day. Awesomely rugged terrain. I enjoyed the hell out of it. Still, I was a little “off.”
I made a point of eating leading up to the race—after dropping 8 lbs. the week prior (Mounjaro®). I was under eating again and didn’t want a repeat of 2023 when I ended up DNSing one of my favorite races.
I made sure I was taking in protein and calories. I even resorted to an Ensure® protein shake one morning when I was pressed for time. (Not a fan. Too many calories and sugar with not enough protein to balance it—not even to mention the preservatives added to make it shelf stable.)
Ditto for hydration. I was even taking in electrolytes as additional hydration over and above plain water. Hydration could have been better, but at least my urine had paled from the warm gold color it had been. 😜 (TMI. I know! Sorry, but it’s a thing.)
On the course Saturday, when I’d jog, my feet hit the ground heavy, jarring my whole body. Despite my size, I’m usually a little more fluid and “springy” in my stride. Instead I was striding like: THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD-THUD-THUD. Even focusing on power hiking, no running, and speeding up my walking stride, I just couldn’t get my pace below a 19:00 to 20:00 min per mile pace. That’s my “easy” walking pace—and I was really trying!
I also seemed to be having trouble getting my breathing relaxed and into an easy rhythm. I was definitely breathing shallow and high in my chest for much of the beginning until I focused and concentrated on taking the breaths down into my “belly.” It definitely wasn’t due to cardiac exertion as my heart rate stayed mostly in my low to moderate zones.
Average heart rate was only 115 bpm. High was 152, but that would have been when I was climbing one of the steep hills that were sprinkled across the course. (It was almost as twisty, wind-y as Cameron Park—just completely out in the open with prickly pear growing densely along the edges of the trail. 😉)
I was more than half way in, around 3.6 miles, before I began feeling easier in my breathing and a little lighter in my stride. Unfortunately, by that time, I had a pronounced “list” to the right. I’d pull my shoulders back and tighten my core, to straighten out my stride. I’d be okay for a while, then I’d catch myself leaning again and staggering off the edges of the trail. I can’t even say it was due to fatigue, because I wasn’t tired. (I need more focused core strengthening!)
Despite all that, I still enjoyed the morning tremendously and was happy with my performance. I’d given myself 2.5 hours and an average 21:00 min per mile pace, knowing the terrain was going to be tough.
I finished in 2 hrs and 12 min with an average pace of 21:03 per mile—according to Garmin Connect.
I still took 1st place in my age division!
See the list of runners in my gender and age division in the screenshot at left? Exactly one.
Showing up pays off again!
Honestly, despite the difficulty with getting and keeping my pace up, if I hadn’t paused to take a total of 52 photos, who knows what my pace might have been. Aw well, I was mostly there to enjoy myself and get the mileage on the terrain. That I accomplished.
Now, in spite of hitting my goals for the day, I was surprised to be bothered by something I’ve actually cultivated some pride in over the years. I was DFL. Yes, “Dead {eff}ing Last.” I’m so okay with it I’ve been known to confront a race director to prove I was DFL so I could claim the “award” for it.
Usually, I’m not entered in the longest distance of an event. There are always more runners still out on the course running the longer distances. The finish line arch and timing mats are still out and I get to feel that “I finished!” hit of pride as I cross it.
Being DFL for the entire event…
It felt more than a little awkward.
I smiled at the handful of runners and volunteers still around cheering me across the (unseen?) finish line. The arch was gone, the timing mat, the aid station. There were two traffic cones on either side of the path denoting the finish line?
I made as if to take a bow as I approached them and announced, “I am the unofficial course sweeper. I can say with confidence there is no one on the trail behind me.” It got some laughs and more applause. I didn’t feel quite so embarrassed with them all waiting around for me.
I do have to give credit. Although they were already packed up, the race director did offer me a banana and water “or something” if I needed it. I still had some yogurt chilling in the truck, so I politely declined.
There wasn’t quite a mass exodus as I walked the half mile to my truck, which was now sitting alone alongside the park road. However, there were at least four vehicles who quickly passed me on their way (finally?) out of the park.
So, yeah. I was surprised that I felt the embarrassment3 and felt a bit of a downer, getting back to see almost everything taken down and packed up. A let down, if I’m being honest. Still, I’ve been there with the race director and volunteers, waiting for those last runners to make it past the last aid station ahead of the cutoff. The sooner you get it loaded up, the sooner you get to go.
Yet, if I was the race director, and didn’t have constraints on how long I could occupy a space, I’d wait and give those last individuals their chance for a finish line photo. I’d make sure they could walk away with pride in their accomplishment, not the obvious evidence of “We’re only still here because we are waiting on you.” If there’s not a posted cutoff, every participant deserves the same finish line experience. But then, I’m a little biased.
Oh. Yeah. That protein shake I’d made for lunch didn’t make the cut. My budget took another little hit before I left town.
I ended up at IHOP for buttermilk pancakes. And, yes. I ate some protein too. 😋
- 7 hours from Austin, where I’m spending much of January. From Teague it would have been 9 hrs. ↩︎
- In looking over the park’s website now, I see that I would have needed to go to the Spring Creek Marina at Spring Creek Park, on the other side of Lake Nasworthy, to get the permit. ↩︎
- I realize as I move up into ultra distances, I’m usually going to be DFL—assuming, I haven’t been pulled off the course due to missing a cutoff. That’s some mental toughening I need to do in advance. Made me remember a book I’ve had on my “to read” list for year: Running with a Police Escort by Jill Grunenwald. I borrowed the ebook from the library and started reading. Maybe a book report is in its future. ↩︎
