Note: I wrote this post during the fall last year and never published it. As I’m hoping to do this event again in 2023, I thought it would be fun to have it included here for comparison.
Event: XTERRA Cameron Park Trail Run
Distance: 10.5K
Date: 2022-06-12, Sun, 8:15a
Location: Cameron Park, Waco, TX
Event Host: Race Revolutions
My first trail event of 2022. (Let’s be clear, I’m not racing anyone. Not even myself for a new PR.) It is actually my first event in almost 3 years. I knew my cray-cray was showing when I selected it for my first event–with only two weeks training. “Why, Terry? Why would you do that,” a friend asked, remembering her own suffering on the course. Then I upped the crazy by switching from 5K to the 10.5K distance.
I’m not a newbie to XTERRA Cameron Park. It’s one of my favorites because it is so frikken tough. I’ve run the 10.5K twice, which bookend two years of 21Ks. I knew what I was getting into. Summer. Texas. You know–blistering heat, humidity that will suffocate you, mosquitoes, all that Texas goodness. It was going to be brutal and I knew it. Yet, I still told myself, “It’s just 6 miles. I’m not even going to run it. I can hike 6 miles and not die, right?”
The first quarter mile of the course took me up Jacob’s Ladder–described as a “quirky staircase” by City of Waco’s Parks and Recreation website. It is 88 uneven stone steps, climbing crookedly up a limestone bluff, .37 miles almost straight up. They call it a “ladder” for a reason.
I made a point of being the last one on the ladder. I didn’t want to block anyone. If I’m honest, I didn’t want anyone witnessing what I knew was going to be a struggle to get to the top. Up I went, in some places hauling myself hand-over-hand along the handrails. My hiking poles weren’t cutting it. At every landing, including the flat space at the top (that’s a landing too, isn’t it?), I stopped and got my breath back under control.
The event photographer was crouched to the right of the handrails near the top. So much for no witnesses! He had lots of time to capture my misery. I heard the camera, “click, click, click.” (Mechanical shutter or sound effects? I hadn’t thought to wonder until now.)
“This doesn’t seem quite fair,” I tried to scold him.
He laughed (or was that a snicker), “I know.”
From the top of Jacob’s Ladder, you follow a sidewalk and paved road a short distance to get beyond the clubhouse and parking lot. Then, the very first trail you drop onto is called Root Canal. Seriously. With trail names like Shyst, Sidewinder, Hang10, Act of Faith, Twister, the course is as twisty-turny as the names imply. It’s kind of like running the track of a roller coaster: a long climb followed by a quick drop, a roll and hard turn to the left, jackrabbit hop up, right turn down and into a chute that drops you straight down to the next trail intersection. All amidst densely packed trees and undergrowth–just for a little more “suck” in case the roller coaster trails aren’t enough.
Rarely does a wisp of a breeze get through to ground level. Every once in awhile I could hear it sighing through the tree branches overhead, could watch it pass through the leaves. Maddening! You just have to look at the images of the trail markers above, and panorama below, to get an idea of the density of the woods. I guess if I’d been running, I’d have generated my own breeze. Yeah, right!
I was struggling early, even if I don’t count the slow, gasping climb up Jacob’s Ladder. (Take a virtual hike up Jacob’s Ladder.) I truly hadn’t expected it to be this hard for me. In the two weeks I had trained, I’d already completed 7.5 miles and was using walk/run intervals to complete 4 to 5 miles every other day or so. Knowing the challenges of this course, I’d deliberately made the decision to hike it, as well as, hike it with my poles. They offload a little work from your legs on the hills, and provide me with the stability I need to compensate for my weak core. (They’ve saved my butt from a nasty fall more than once!) There was no hard cutoff on any of the distances. I counted on the 21K distance, running simultaneously with my 10.5K, to give me almost twice the time to finish. Hopefully before my slow progress became a nuisance. (Or worry. “Do you think she could’ve fallen off Lover’s Leap?”) To me, at least, my pacing didn’t matter. I was there for the time on my feet and no other goal than finishing.
After “h-o-u-r-s” (RPE, Rate of Perceived Effort) slogging on the trail, I checked my activity tracker. I was barely 1.3 miles out! Actual elapsed time: 45 minutes.
5.2 miles to go?! I’m in trouble. Big time.
The non-stop internal dialog– Oh, alright! There were frequent outbursts of audible cursing, but for the most part, I kept it in my head. It’s hot. My legs feel like stumps of wood. Why can’t that breeze come down here? I’m stopping, again?! What happened to ‘moving slowly but not stopping’? Could I have more sweat dripping off my face. This sucks!
Fortunately, at the word “sucks,” a little phitz! was triggered in my brain. Wait. Listen to what you’re doing! No. No to the hell no!
I gave myself a mental shake. My self-talk, became more mindful and–compassionate(?). Yes, it’s hard for you, but your heart rate shows you’re recovering. You’re doing good. Yes, the 21Kers are lapping you. They’re running their own races. You are finishing yours. Look, 3.5 miles. You’re more than halfway there! And just having that experience of successfully re-framing negative inner dialog to supportive, positive dialog was worth all the effort and “suck.” Nothing like hiking Cameron Park trails in the June Texas heat to up your game in mental resilience. Ha!
How’d I do? All I’d been looking to do! I met my goal and finished.
Distance: 6.11 miles (a little short for a full 10.5K)
Time/Pace: 3:13:30 — 31:38/mi
(Funny. “Run with Hal” wouldn’t accept my event stats. Clearly NO walking allowed when you’re “running” with Hal.)
One last note: I ran into the event photographer, again positioned alongside the course. This time a short distance from the finish line.
“We meet again,” I said.
“And [you’re] still smiling.”
