The Trailway Trail Race (SEP 2023)

Event: Trailway Trail Run Half-Marathon
Distance: 13.1M
Date: 2023-09-30, Sat, 7:30a
Location: Somerville, TX
Event Host: Tejas Trails

What a great day–weekend–this turned out to be! The weather was almost perfect, at least for the 13+ miles I had to do. By the time I finished my “race,” temps were up into the 90s–and my heart rate in the 160s. I wouldn’t have managed a second loop for a full marathon. Many amazing runners did, and still more did the 50K ultra! Although, not always without some trepidation. One runner commented as we passed each other, me heading in and her heading back out, “I d

The weekend started Friday afternoon. My friend Gigi and I drove separately to meet at Lake Somerville State Park. We had a reserved campsite with electricity and water, much better for dealing with Texas heat than a primitive site. After we’d gotten our tents set up and camp in order, we drove over to the race hub to pickup our packets and checkout the start/finish area. Then off to the nearest Dollar General for some ice, instant coffee, and a pair of flip-flops. (I’d forgotten mine and didn’t want to be pulling athletic shoes on and off for night-time excursions to the bathroom.)

On returning, we found it comfortable sitting under the trees in our folding chairs as the sun set and the sky darkened. The mosquitoes thought it was a nice evening too, and commenced feasting on Gigi. By whatever weird quirk of the universe that evening, I was spared their attention. Not wanting to push my luck with this magic, I retreated into my tent by 8:00ish to listen to an audiobook and paint-by-number in a phone app. Gigi, meanwhile, in her tent was on her phone registering for more ultramarathons. (You go girl!)

Despite a full moon passing overhead–brighter than any nightlight I’ve used, I managed to sleep and rest. If not soundly, then certainly adequately. I was dozing at 5:00am when Gigi unzipped her tent and headed off to the showers. I got up and started my own prepping. I felt awake and alert, even before firing up the Jetboil to heat the water we needed for our morning coffee. I think this was the first race morning in years that I managed to hit all the checkboxes and didn’t forget anything. Thanks to Gigi tucking my KT tape roll into my right trail shoe the previous evening, I even remembered to put a strip on the spot where my new shoes tended to rub. (The blister[s] defeated me back in August before mile 2 of an attempted nightime 10K.) The pre-race coffee was a bonus I usually didn’t have time for. Well, not unless there was a drive-thru between my lodging and the start/finish. Staying in the park usually doesn’t provide the opportunity for a pre-race caffeinated beverage, unless it’s a DIY. 😉

We arrived at the race hub (start/finish area) around 6:30. We watched the moon setting (which didn’t make it down before the sun rose) and the sun rising. Picked up our timing chips to strap around our ankles then waited for our start time. We saw one of Gigi’s friends off at the start of the 50K at 7:00 and we started the half-marathon 30 min. later.

My first half-marathon in over a year. I’d been 30 pounds heavier and it had taken me nearly 7 hours to finish the almost 14 mile course. Granted it was very hilly and rocky, nothing like the mostly flat terrain this half around Lake Somerville was going to be. I was mostly confident that I could do the ~13.1 mile distance. The week leading up to race morning, I’d hit all my training runs (a first for this training cycle). I’d paid attention to hydration and rest. Even did a teeny bit of heat and full-sun training knowing that was going to be part of my race day experience. No, my main worry was how bad it was going to “suck.” Fatigue, aching legs and back, heat, SUN!–all the things that come with a trail run. Well, not all the things. I didn’t have rain, mud, ice, cactus, longhorn cattle… And that’s just the Texas races, where we don’t have bears, moose, and other potential dangerous large wildlife. :,-D

My longest training run hadn’t gone particularly well. It was only 10 miles and it had taken me 4.5 hours. I’d crashed and burned. With that in mind, the 10 mile mark was my first goal of the day. I planned to use it to assess how well I was doing and how strong I’d finish.

It was only 72F when the half started and the sun hadn’t yet fully cleared the eastern horizon. It was nice. Very nice. I was looking forward to seeing how I’d do. I felt ready–knew I was ready. Surprisingly, my head was where it needed to be. Positive and prepared. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and I’d set my expectations firmly in the realm of reality. I’m happy to say, that held true for the majority of the 13+ miles.

My plan was to walk/run conservatively AND keep my expectations conservative. I knew I’d need those saved reserves to finish the full course. Not only was it the longest distance I’d done in a year, it was also on trail and in the sun. Trail is harder. Even relatively flat, non-technical terrain. Probably the biggest challenge terrain-wise on this course was the soft sand in patches all along the course. As “The Trailway” is a maintained hiking, biking, and riding (as in horses) trail, it was wide and often had the two parallel tracks of 4-wheeled vehicle use (I assume for maintenance). The space between the tracks or at the edges of the track usually had firmer soil I could step too when the sand got loose.

My “race” began with walk/run intervals of 2:1. Usually I do 1:1 intervals ,so I felt 33% run was conservative compared to 50%. My walking pace was fast, though. My average pace was still a minute faster at 2:1 intervals–on a trail!–than it usually was at 1:1 intervals on the road. I couldn’t seem to get it slower. It felt natural and just flowed. Instead, I simply dropped the run intervals after 3 miles, knowing my walking pace was going to keep me in the conservative 19:00 min per mile average pace I’d set for the race. First longish distance trail run in a year? I wanted to make sure I set my expectations appropriately. Still…

It felt so easy, almost effortless. It started messing with my mind. What if? Could I? Maybe I could if I reached a bit further than my expectations. Ha! Thus the mostly sub-conscious struggle began. I was able to keep reminding myself of the conservative goal I’d set and hold the “what ifs” as the potential surprise at the end. “Wouldn’t that be cool, but it has to come by itself. I still have to keep focused on being conservative. Realistic expectations.” Then too, there’s the mental “pressure” of seeing the other runners. Knowing I’m pulling up the rear. Knowing others are doing much, much more than I am. Then, I’d remind myself: “This is your race. This is where you are in your training. This is only for you and you have your goals set. You’re well within reach of those! Let everyone else run their own races and focus on yours.” I had to keep reminding myself, but it worked, keeping me in the positive frame of mind I’d started with.

As I kept knocking off the miles at my unexpectedly robust pace, I had the mental space to enjoy “being in nature.” Usually I’m so caught up in pace, distance, terrain, “the suck,” I don’t really enjoy my time on the trail during an event. This day was an exception. I loved how the tree cover created “tunnels” for the trail to pass through and I never tired of taking pictures as I approached a new one. I was running while I took a couple and the edges are blurred like I’m zooming toward the tunnel. Fun! I also got to do a lot of people watching that morning.

Being an out-and-back course, I met all the runners ahead of me on their inbound return leg. Then I might see them again as they were outbound on their second loop and I, finally inbound, on my first (and only). There was one section that branched off on the way back where there wasn’t anyone running toward me. That section I almost convinced myself I was lost because I hadn’t seen anyone for a while. But no, there would be a trail marker ahead to reassure me I was still on course.

I found it interesting to observe the many different interactions with the other participants. There are those smiling, making eye contact, and offering words of encouragement or greetings. “Good job!” “Good morning.” “You’re doing great.” Others more reserved. They would meet my eyes briefly and return my smile or greeting, but drop eye contact quickly. Those totally focused on their effort and the path in front of them. (I sympathize. That’ll be me if I’m ever in my first 50K race. 😉 And finally those that don’t want to seen, eyes down, no indication anyone else is on the trail with them. That used to be me. While I was hyper-aware of everyone within eye-sight of me on the course, I pretended like I wasn’t. As if I didn’t look at them, they wouldn’t see me. Childish wishful thinking, maybe, but it was those “silly” tools that allowed me to be in that space at that time in my life and self-growth. For me, it was all a combination of social anxiety, poor body-image, and certainly impostor syndrome. I still make myself as unobtrusive as possible, moving aside or stopping completely to let “the real runners” pass. For me, it’s a process of claiming my space on the trail and in the events.

Now that I’m reviewing all this, I realize I experienced this event in a way I never have before. I was actually seeing and experiencing the event rather than doing the event, if that makes sense. I’m looking forward to seeing if that open/external perspective will continue as I push myself ever further out of my comfort zones.

10 mile mark! I was so excited. I snapped the smiling, “thumbs up” picture to commemorate the accomplishment. Moving along the course wasn’t so easy any longer, but I still felt good and optimistic. I had less than a 5K distance to go and was sure I would finish fairly strong. I’m glad I didn’t know what was ahead in this final leg. The sun! It burns! 😀

That ever present breeze off the lake was my salvation. I used it endlessly to snatch my focus away from “the suck” (hiking along in the full sun), to the positive thoughts of how close I was getting to the finish line. Or how nice the breeze felt. How my heart rate racing along above my maxHR would, never the less, come down closer or below max when I walked through a patch of shade. My body was taking me to the finish line and I had to applaud and appreciate that.

As is frequently the case with trail events, the distance isn’t exactly as advertised. Rarely do I see a shorter course. More often it’s a longer course and this was no exception. The 13.1 was actually 13.5. I’m still grateful I wasn’t focused on my sports watch ticking off the mileage increments and me with the expectation of stopping at exactly 13.1 miles. That was a mistake I’d made with the last half-marathon. I was so tired and ready to stop, I was using the mileage increments to keep myself going toward the finish line. Except it crept past 13.1, then 13.4, and 13.6. Bastards! I recorded that course at 13.83 miles. I’m grateful this one was only 13.56.

I didn’t even pretend to to run as I approached the finish line and the timing mat. I plodded along slowly, but determinedly. I can’t help but laugh at the truth shown in the screenshot I captured from my activity tracker. My heart rate steadily increasing and staying high at the end while my pace got comparatively slower and slower.

I finished with a 17:42/mi average pace. A good minute under the best I’d hoped for. I’m happy with it!

Of course, post race I was totally blown. My back and legs were so tight I could barely stand upright. My legs so shaky I couldn’t hold myself upright for decent stretching (and no mat to get on the ground–guess I did forget one thing after all). Gigi had cold sparkling water, which I chugged gratefully, while simultaneously pouring cold water (from the aid station) directly on my head. (I’d done that at all but one of the aid stations I’d gone through. I had plenty of water in my pack so I’d take a few slugs of the cold water and then begin pour dollops of it onto my head.) Bliss!

Air conditioning in the car helped. A cool shower (water wasn’t really cold) also helped. I suppose too, having left my towel at my tent and being forced to pull on just a single layer of clothes over my wet body helped (yes, commando and braless). More water and electrolytes. Chair in the shade with a battery powered fan. I still felt I needed to lie down and sleep. Problem was, we needed to break camp and get on the road.

I swear, if I hadn’t needed to move my cot/tent out of the sun-dappled shade to full shade in order to get out of the heat, I would have stayed by myself in the camp that second night. However, as it was going to be an effort to get comfortable and reasonably cool, I used the effort expenditure to gradually breakdown and pack up camp, then a piece at a time, carry it to the car and load it. Thank goodness Gigi stayed to help me. We’d work on it a little at a time, then sit in the shade for a while, then a little more work, a little more shade, until it was all packed and loaded.

By that time, I was feeling more like myself and didn’t have any qualms about driving the 2+ hours home.

My good fortune persisted into the night and the next day. I had very little issue with muscle cramps and almost no soreness the following day.

Overall, I consider the weekend a rip-roaring success! Palo Duro Canyon? I’ll be seeing you in two weeks to trek 15+ miles of your trails. 😀