Brazos Bend 50
25 April 2015
I Guess I Am Human
After All
I get excited for every race that I do. They’re like
opening presents; you can’t wait to open them, but at the same time, you don’t
know if you’re gonna like what you see once they’re open. This race was just
like that. There was a lot to live up to after last year’s race: I was third overall
and finished in six hours forty minutes and felt great almost the entire time.
It’s hard to have another perfect race. And I haven’t felt quite so superhuman
ever since Rocky Raccoon 50.
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Mel and I finishing lap 2 |
Last year’s 50-miler was when I ran with some random
people at the beginning and Melinda Coen just happened to be in that group. We
started this year’s race together as well. One of my favorite things about
ultra running is talking with people. Shorter races are so fast-paced that it’s
kinda hard to talk to people other than to say “On your left!” before you pass
them. But ultras are laid back and slow, which almost encourages talking.
Conversation pace—If you can’t hold a conversation while running, you’re
running too fast. It’s my favorite way to run. And even though Mel and I didn’t
talk the whole time, just having someone next to you is such a boost. When you
(or they) are feeling like stopping/walking/giving up, they’re right there, not
verbalizing anything to you to keep going, but because they’re still going, you
feel like you probably can too. I’m pretty sure we shared a number of those
back and forth during the race.
There was plenty of rain in the forecast, but I was
hoping that the rain gods would realize that we had a race and then push the
rain back to Sunday. It drizzled a bit over the first eight miles. Nothing
much. I complained that my socks were already soaked (the trails were still dry
at this point) and I considered changing them after this first of three laps. The
rain gods must have heard me and laughed at what was in store for us runners. We
hit the turnaround (11.5 miles) and a little bit later the rain started. And
then it got really dark. And then the wind picked up and the clouds opened and
it poured on us for about twenty minutes or so. There were a few times I
thought I’d start freezing if the wind stayed like that. I heard that it hailed
on others, though I was under tree cover while this storm passed over. The rain
slowly died off, but the trails were definitely not the same. A lot of what was
dry the first time around was puddles for the rest of the race. One section was
really muddy, but small baby steps seemed to do the trick in traversing it.
We came across lap one in about 2:18, and I felt ok. Not
too good. And not looking forward to two more laps. After a few more miles we
saw fellow teammates Jeff Ball and Tracie Akerhielm. They were only doing the
50k, and we 50-milers had an extra two-mile loop that they didn’t have. So we
would see them again as they were coming back heading toward the finish. I told
Mel that if we had also only signed up for a 50k, then we’d be about an hour
away from finishing too. She wondered why she had to be so “bullheaded and
always sign up for the longest race.” I laughed because I knew exactly what she
was talking about. I’d feel like I was less of a person if I didn’t max out
every race. And this is not to say that I look down on those that do the
shorter races. I think it’s awesome to see so many people out on the trails
instead of sitting around at home watching TV. But I just can’t do less than
whatever the longest race is. And when a new local ultra comes up, I have to
sign up for it, even if it means that I run 512 race miles in three and a half
months. I’ll have to see where I’m at for the bombardment this October will
bring (a 100k, a 24-hour timed race, a 100-miler, and another 100-miler).
The second lap wasn’t much better than the first. I still
didn’t feel good, but I was able to push along (or splash along) with my
teammate. Knowing that you have another 17-mile loop to complete seems rather
daunting at this point in a race. It’s best to break it up into much smaller
distances. About a mile or two into the last lap, I started feeling much
better. I cheered on Mel and everyone else I saw. I told Mel that saying all
the silly things to people just brings my spirits up so much. And then I want
to cheer on the next guy and the next. And then I realized that cheering others
on is really just selfish because, although it may seem like you’re being nice,
you’re truly just trying to make yourself feel better so you can finish the
blasted race. After another mile, Mel and I said our good-byes and good lucks.
I was now in no-man’s-land—where you see nobody (at least
not running your race distance). I didn’t know where anyone was in front of me
or behind me. So I just kept running. I had many random thoughts going through
my head, and then I saw this lady in front of me, and she kept pointing at me.
Then I realized she was pointing past me. “Did you see him?” And I’m thinking, ‘Who?’
So I turned around and saw the 10-foot gator sunbathing right on the side of
the trail, about five feet from where I had been, and laughed to myself. Surely
I’d have seen him if he was moving.

The muddy puddles were done. Finishing time was 7:46:16;
8th overall and 5th male. Thanks to my wife and kids for
the love and support. Thanks to #TROT for the camaraderie and great races. And to
#TrailToes for keeping a lot of special areas from chaffing. My #UltraSpire
handheld was great to have along, especially when the sun came out. #TROT buffs are great at keeping sweat out of your eyes.
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Thanks for a fun race, coach |