If You’re Even THINKING About It…


I ran with a few of the Rockhoppers today at Government Canyon. Stefan, Cara, and Elizabeth. I talked to them about some of the races they’ve done. It seemed like they’d all done numerous “real” ultras, which made me feel a little out of my league running with them. I was envious of their accomplishments, but inspired to make my own.

“The Nueces 50K.” That’s what I told them I was training for. “My plan is to do a few 50K’s and get some experience under my belt. Then try and tackle a 50M.” Or that was the plan anyway.

About halfway through the run, Elizabeth had to turn around and head back. She was nursing a knee injury and had a half marathon the next day, so she wanted to take it easy. So the rest of the run was with Stefan and Cara. Stefan lead the whole way, with Cara following him and then me. He kept a brisk pace. There were times I couldn’t see him and I crossed my fingers I was following the same trail. I had no idea where I was so getting lost would have been super sucky.

Somewhere along the way, we ran into a runner who was kind of lost. He asked about directions and struck up a brief conversation about Bandera, Rocky, and Nueces. He said he’d just run Bandera and planned to do Nueces. We began to go in the opposite direction, and then Stefan said, “We’ll see you at Nueces!” a minute later, I heard Cara say, “You should do the 50 Miler.”

I was watching the ground, so I didn’t know who she was talking to. Was she talking to me? No, she was talking to Stefan. But then I started to think about that. What if she had been talking to me?

Stefan kept up the pace and if anything, got quicker. We were running well. The hills were cake, the rocks endless, and the temps perfect. I kept up just fine, but Cara started to slow down a bit, so she let me take over the second spot. I did my best to shadow Stefan, I wanted to show that I could run with the big kids. They noticed and gave me credit for keeping up.

We ran into Miguel from the R-U-N group. We stopped and (they) chatted. He asked how far along we were. Neither Stefan or Cara was wearing a GPS, and I’d been having trouble with mine -somehow the display had switched. Instead of showing the usual distance/ elapsed time/ pace, it was showing calories/ something else/ something else. I felt really dumb because I’m pretty sure Miguel noticed I was wearing a Garmin, I think the same as his, in fact, but he didn’t say anything. I put my arms behind my back.  That was a lesson for the day: learn how to operate my watch.

We stopped at a crossroad. I asked Stefan how much harder it would be to do a 50M vs a 50K. He said, “If you’re even thinking about it, you should do it.” That was just the sort of crazy positive advice I wanted to hear. Despite the fact that he doesn’t know me or my capabilities (other than the run we were on), he suggested to just do it. I like this guy.

Later, I asked Cara the same question and I think I got pretty much the same response. So my brain started percolating crazy ideas… We eventually finished our run. My watch showed only 13.7 miles in 2:23 for a pace of 10.25. They guesstimated 15 or 16 miles. I had problems with the starting and stopping, so I know my data was short. Ugh! Nothing worse than being outsmarted by technology.

On the drive home, I thought to myself, I should do the 50 miler. Normally, I would take a more cautious approach. Like I said before, do few 50K’s and build up some confidence. But I already feel pretty confident about my ability to do 31 miles. What will doing another prove? Why not do a 50M? Are you afraid to fail? Maybe?

Well if I’m going to consider doing this, I need to commit myself to the idea of actually doing a 50 mile run. OK. And that’s when I decided, Fuck it! Why mess around with another 50K? I know I can do that. Nothing to it. Let’s bump it up and do what we came here to do. Let’s run the big stuff. Let’s start with a 50 miler!


I got goosebumps. Straight up gooses bumps, and not just once, it was a wave of them. Part of it was fear, part of it was excitement, but all of it was joy.

So that’s what happened today: I made a big decision. And it feels good. Now I need to sign up and start to figure out training…

My First Pair of Nike Free’s

My First Pair of Nike Free's

These are my very first pair, about 4 or 5 years ago when I was living in Portland. The first time I wore them was on a run home from work. It was one of the most magical runs I’ve ever had. I felt really… free. (Sorry) I’ve since become accustomed to the sensation of minimalist shoes, but that first run, wow! I wore them at work in the paint department, which is why they are covered in specks of magenta. The laces don’t stay tied worth a damn, even with double knotting, they smell funky, which is weird because my feet don’t usually stink, and they probably have at least a million miles on them, but I can’t bring myself to throw them out. I even did a painting of them. I’ve since bought 3 other pairs, though one pair got thrown out of a train window in Viet Nam because I’d gone swimming in them and they never got to dry out because I wrapped them up in a plastic bag along with my running shorts, and they began to smell unbearable….

But these ones, they’re still here with me. In fact, I’m wearing them right now.
Yeah, I think I’ll keep ’em.

Post-race Blues


For three months, I was training for one specific day, one specific race. While I am happy to be training, I am even happier racing. But it seemed like that day was so far away. Even as the day grew closer, it didn’t quite sink in. And then it was -holy smokes- race day!

It was kind of a tense drive out to Bandera. At 5:30 in the country, it’s super dark. Add some light drizzle and it’s just not a fun drive. I’m glad my dad was driving, although sometimes his driving scares me. There was very little traffic, which was nice. That is, until we got to the park. Then there was a straight up traffic jam.

Which is not surprising. 1,000 people crammed into one lane? Duh!  And here I thought getting there an hour early would be sufficient. (At least I wasn’t the only who made that mistake.)

I started to get antsy because I had a pressing gastrointestinal issue that would soon require immediate action. After a few minutes, we’d moved maybe two feet, so I had to act. I jumped out of the car and hiked into the bushes, out of the way of everyone’s headlights, and found a spot and did the doo. Ran back to the car feeling better.

But then I started to get really panicky. We weren’t really moving.  It was 7:15 and the race started at 7:30. There were still tons of cars waiting to park. Would they start the race without…..? OF COURSE they will start the race on time! They aren’t going to postpone it for your sorry ass! Get out there and start running!  That’s my brain for you.

I wasn’t totally prepared. I still needed to pick up my packet and drop my bag. I was still trying to work out my iPod cord strategy. And I wasn’t sure if I was going to wear my jacket or not, but then I saw a girl run by in a tank top. She looked like she’d knew what was up, so I ditched my jacket and wore just one shirt. (Probably the second best decision I’d make that day, as temps were perfect for just a t-shirt.) I grabbed my bag and my handheld and started running to the Lodge.

I got my packet, took out the bib and the safety pins, and dropped my bag onto the truck headed for Chapas. When I started pinning on my bib, I realized, This is it! I am finally going to run this race!  My first 50K! I made it to the start with about 5 minutes to spare.

I whooped and hollered a bit at the start, and several times during the race I put my arms in the air and pumped my fists, thinking YEAH! I’m running! I didn’t care about the mud, for me, that was a bonus. Mud is just leveling up. Yes, it made running a bit more difficult, but then the next time I race this course and it’s dry, I’m going to kill it!

And then after so many miles, it was kind of a blur. I didn’t know where I was anymore. All I could see was the trail in front of me. At some points it was hard to keep going and I started to look forward to finishing, but I knew I’d be sad as soon as I crossed the finish. And I was. I mean I was glad to be done, or maybe I was just glad to stop running. I didn’t want to be done because that meant the race was over. And that’s the beginning of the post-race blues. After the high of the race wears off, the blues kick in. Suddenly, I have no immediate thing I’m working toward. I took off the week following the race to rest up. But then what?

The cure? Sign up for another race!
I learned a few lessons:

Get to the race earlier than you think you need to, especially if there will be a lot of people at the race. If for no other reason than to use the port-a-potty before eight million other people do. I imagine the folks who camped out were feeling pretty smug when they saw the huge line of cars to park and the huge lines for the port-a-potty

Enjoy every minute of race day. Even the parts where you’re sick of running and just want to collapse. Those are probably the best moments of the race, because chances are pretty good that you’ll get through those moments. “This too shall pass.” And then you can look back on those difficulties and know that you have what it takes to keep on going.

Talk to complete strangers during the race. I talked to a few people, and it helped get me through some of the miles in the middle. I’m not much of a conversationalist, but it’s super easy: just talk about running! Have you done a 50 before? Have you run this race?  What’s your goal? Even if it was just a brief conversation, it was nice. So talk!

It’s fun to applaud others as they finish. I was confused that more people didn’t smile at the end. Some would start smiling once they heard the applause, but some didn’t. Maybe they were having a rough go of it, but I would think everyone would be all smiles at the finish. I know I was!

It’s not a hill…

It’s not a hill, it’s a shortcut.

That is what I told myself in order to get over my anxiety about hills. Because really that’s what a hill is: a shortcut to making you a better runner. If you can get good at running hills -or at least not be afraid of them- you’ll be physically, and perhaps more importantly, mentally stronger.

Now I look forward to hills. Bring ’em on, the steeper the better.

What’s next?

Perhaps one of the most fun steps of running is finding a race to sign up for. Once you pick out a race, you make the commitment and sign up. You drop the cash, but then perk up at the thought of a race to look forward to.

Having to part with a chunk of cash (sniff) is a big motivator for me. There’s no way I’m going to pay for a race and then not train for it. Unless there is a damn good reason, then I am going to run that race, which means I have to train for it.

And in fact it has happened to me that I’ve signed up for two marathons but wasn’t able to run them. I signed up for the San Antonio marathon, but then found out I was going to Thailand, which was just fine by me. (And I almost signed up my buddy Jason, good thing I didn’t!)  As luck would have it, I found that there was going to be a marathon in Bangkok, so I signed up for that. I was super stoked, but then Bangkok got flooded, and so that race didn’t happen.

Right now my goal is to pick my next race. I will probablythe 50K in Nueces on March 2nd. It’s kind of a bummer that it’s two hours away. I won’t be able to run the course every weekend like I did for Bandera, but I’m sure I’ll make at least one trip out there to see what it’s like. I’ve heard that it is flatter and isn’t as technical, so that’s good. However, it’s two 15 mile loops. I’m not keen on the idea of running loops, but what can you do?

There is also a SARR half-marathon on the 26th, and the Austin marathon on February 17th… Hmmmm…..