2009 Bandera 50km Trail Race – Race Report

Joe P, the Race Director’s course summary.
“This course is typical Texas Hill Country fare. Lots of short steep up & down with no switchbacks, seasoned with scrub and cactus that tend to bite, scratch, and sting. It is wild and it is beautiful. Panoramic views on many an overlook and creeks that tend to be dry but likely to change. The weather is temperamental and should be prepared for as such.”

Photos of the course can be seen here. Check them out so you see what the terrain looks like!

On Thursday I watched a movie called Running the Sahara. A movie about 3 runners from different places who got together with a wild idea to run the Sahara.
Map
They ended up running 4,300 miles (6,920 kilometers) over 111 days, running 50 miles a day for many of those days. My biggest takeway from the movies, was that they never gave up. And they would just run. One step infront of the other. Just kept running.

Strategy for this race was pretty loose. I didn’t really prepare for the race as an “A” race, as this was really just a fun run, and my first ever Ultra Marathon. A marathon being 42.195 km, (26.2), races over that are considered Ultramarathons, and mostly come in 50km(31m), 50 mile, 100km(62m), and 100 mile flavors. I have absolutely no clue how to run these things, what pace to hold, and what to expect. Sure, I’ve done 25km and 30km and a marathon trail race, but nothing this far. In fact, I’d never run this far before except one training run on flat roads last fall. This was not a RACE for me, simply a run to see what it would be like, and if’ I’d ever want to attempt it again.


Judging from times people had run in prior years, my goal was to try and get in under 6hours, and would be ecstatic if I could break 5:30. Ken and I were running the 50km, while Jo Dee, David, Bruce and Larry were off to do the 25km. Meredith was also doing the 50km, and it was a good thing that she had a similar plan to run a 5:30(shaving 18 minutes of her prior year’s time). She was going to be my cruise control so I got an idea of how fast one should go. Plus, being my superstar dietician, she’ll make sure I don’t die if I bonk or cramp up!

Saturday morning came early when the alarm rang at 3am. I had already packed all my different bags, pre race stuff/race stuff, post race stuff, food and drink bag, chairs, and a drop bag.
Why a drop bag for only a 50km? Well, my trail shoes are old. REALLY old. I superglued them to keep them alive for just 31 more miles. I figured it’d be smart to have a bag waiting for me at mile 21 so I could switch to road shoes if they blew up on me.
The gang showed up on time, and we promptly departed a few minutes past 4am. Next stop: Bandera, TX.
We arrived at the race site at Bandera right around 6:20am. Race start was 7:30, so it was perfect. Those short 50mins were barely enough to get everything ready, and stand in the long porta-potty line. (some things you can’t really do by just hiding behind a bush)

Weather was in the 40’s but there was a strong and chilly wind blowing from the North,so I opted for short sleeve, long sleeve, gloves and a beanie(to protect the ears)

There were 132 runners registered for the 50km when the website was last updated. At the start line, the time keeper said 3 minutes to start, and Meredith, Ken and I realize we’ve found ourselves at the VERY front of the group. Some brave souls decided to get ahead of us, which we definitely welcomed. I remember looking down at my watch and thinking, that his and my watch are very close as I had 7:27am. (this little details would come into play later on). One minute to go, then 10 seconds, then “OK GO”.
I immediately count how many runners take off in front of us: 8, then 2 more, so our little clump start at 11. I’m not looking to race, but it’s fun to have an idea how you’re doing anyway. The first 30 minutes are hell to me. I’m having a hard time warming up, and we’re hitting climbs right away. I’m glad we’re at the front, because we don’t have to worry about slow walk/runners to pass this early on.

CLICK ON THE MAP TO SEE THE FULL PROFILE. I can't get it smaller.


This course is a bitch, and as you can tell, the first 9 miles are steep, rocky, climbs. Not the idea way to get warmed up. There was a water stop right after the descent of the 2nd climb, and about 200 yards from the station, a rock got into my shoe. I stopped at the aid station and removed the sock. Meredith and Ken I think stopped too, a bit, so I didn’t have too hard a time catching back up to them.
Eventually I start to feel warmed up, and most importantly, much calmer. I’d been running really tense, and this is not a good thing on trails. I remember even telling Meredith at minute 34 that I was finally relaxed and was feeling good.
The hills are tough. Kind of short climbs, maybe 200 feet or so, but they’re steep and really rocky. I would walk every one of these steep climbs to not blow up, as I have 6 hours of running to do.
Over the first hour, of running, I counted 9 other runners run past us, so now we’re about 20th.

My nutrition strategy was to eat Gels as I usually do for my easy long runs every 45 minutes, then complement those with some secret cookies I’ve been introduced to. (Sorry, they’re a secret) The cookies prove themselves as a good time waster, because it takes me about 20 minutes to eat half a cookie. I’m hydrating by drinking out of my camebak, but again, it’s my first ultra, and I’ve only ever run with a camelback twice before, so I don’t quite know how much I’m actually drinking as I hydrate. It’s all a guess today!
Eventually I decide the pace is a little too slow for my liking and I’m in the mood to create a little separation and run alone for a bit. So I picked up the pace with Kyle, a newly introduced acquaintance. Eventually, I’d lose him too, but unsure how that happened.
Many details, and order of how things happened is fuzzy. The hills are steep, the terrain is rocky, and all I’m thinking is, just keep running, lets see what happens after 3 hours.

I eventually find myself running alone, which is good because I really have to pee. I keep looking back to see how much separation I have from Meredith and at one point I’m guesstimating 20 seconds. So I pulled off behind a bush and did my thing. I was done a few seconds before they get there, and I can jump back onto the single track trail in the lead. Again, my comfort pace was a tad faster and I begin to separate again. We’re about 1 hour 30 in, and all I keep thinking is. “Ugh, only 1.5 in? I still need to run at least 4 more hours???” So I decided it’s time to pop my headphones in, and listen to some music. I I chose Vampire Weekend, as I want something other than my CIM marathon play listt, and I really enjoy that whole album. Light Indie Rock, playful lyrics, fun melodies. (As much as I wanted to, I never got around to refreshing the songs so it’ll have to do).

And then here’s where I would make my second biggest mistake. My watch also controls my ipod, so I can click and go to the next song, the prior song, up and down colume, pause and play. All on the same typical Timex Ironman watch you’ve all seen. (I love this iControl thing). Anyway, I look down and see 1hour 57, and that means it’s time to eat electrolyte pills and enjoy a little cookie action. So I pop some pills, drink water and have fun chewing on a cookie as I run along this beautiful Texas Hill Country. Eventually I look down and my watch says 1hr 57. dammit. I somehow stopped my stop watch somewhere along the way, so now, I have no accurate gauge of time that is easy to manage, in terms of 45 minute increments, how long have I been running, etc. So now I’m reduced to regular time, and I’m thinking at least I know we kind of started at 7:30am, so I should be fine. It’s just not as easy to manage nutrition and hydration.

I also remember looking down from about 1 hour 3, till about 2 hours 45 thinking that time is standing still. I keep popping in and out of happy and bad mental moods, and have no idea how on earth I’m going to run another 3 to 4 hours. The music is definitely helping and I sing along, replaying A-Punk over and over and over and over.

HEY HEY HEY HEY!
His Honor drove southward seeking exotica
Down to the Pueblo huts of New Mexico
Cut his teeth on turquoise harmonicas
Oh oh oh…

And then I let it play on, and I think I replayed the album about 3.5 times before I just got tired of the same 11 songs.

The course has tons of Texas Sotol Cactii , which have nice little teeth on their leaves. Over time, these long leaves hit your shins, and once in a while, you feel a good one and think: Oooo! I bet that one cut me good! I decided I would not look down at my legs until the very end to see how they fared. (This is going to sound silly, but I’m a little disappointed on how un-cut they are, considering the amount of Sotols I ran through.

We’re now about 3 hours in and I’m getting pretty tired. I’m not exhausted or running on empty by any means, but I am no longer fresh. My friends have long finished their 25km race and I’m wondering how they fared. The 20-25mph wind is blowing straight into our face anytime we’re out of the trees and in clear areas, and at one point, the wind stops me completely in my footsteps. Yeah, it was blowing, and there’s no one to hide behind. We reached this looooooong gradual climb along this telephone post / powerline. The thing must be about ½ a mile long, because it easily takes me close to 7 or 8 minutes to reach the top. This is the first time you can actually see really far ahead of you, and the single track trail is littered with 100km runners. (we share the same course, but have slightly different start locations. I’m passing many of them. They’re not slow by any means, instead, they’re pacing themselves as they’re in for 62 miles, and I’m at mile 16ish?? Anyway, I keep passing runners from here on out until the very finish. But back to the powerline. It’s long, it’s uphill and it’s a pain in the ass. As I approach the top, I’m thinking about what may be on the other side. All I know is that it’s probably downhill, and I will welcome some recovery distance after chugging up this gradual ascent. I get to the top, and see a looooong gradual decent on a very smooth, fine, soft sand jeep road! I get excited, but that doesn’t last long, because about 10 yards into it, the wind kicks back into gear, right into our faces. At this point, is where I finally got caught. A woman in her 40’s or 50s and a man had been anywhere from 100 meters to 20 feet from me over the last couple of hours, and here’s where they caught me and ran away. I’m completely fine with it. Afterall, I just want to finish, and my goal is a sub 6. “Finally, you guys catch me! I tried to pull you along as long as I could! Have a good run!” I can also see that they’re veterans; this is by no means their first 50km.

Here’s where things get a little fuzzy. I keep popping in and out of mental difficulties, even thinking about how I wouldn’t mind a slight ankle sprain or a knee injury to have an excuse to stop. But, everytime I start thinking about the 3 guys that ran the sahara. They just got up and ran, and ran and ran. They. Just. Kept. Running. And eventually, they reached the red sea in Cairo. It took them 111 days, and the equivalent of 174 marathons to do it, so surely I can do this. It brings me back to positive thoughts and I just run along.

The problem is I have no earthly idea where I am / how far I’ve gone. I didn’t really study the course other than count the amount of hills, and have no clue where the aid stations are, other than, “cross roads” is at mile 21ish and that’s where my backup shoes are, as well as a fresh cap.
I’m passing more 100k’ers. 3 minutes don’t go by without me passing or spotting another one to pass, so it keeps me busy. Many of them are walking the slightest hills, which I’m running, so I’m easily passing most. As another hour passes, I reach down to grab some more electrolyte pills, and oh no, they’re all gone and the safety pin is open. All are lost. Uh oh. Thank god I put a spare pack of 2 in the camelback so that will get more one more hour, and I guess I’ll start drinking electrolyte drinks at the aid stations too.

I had decided not to look down at my shoes until I got to crossroads so I wouldn’t put adversity in my mind. When I finally reached the aid station, I looked down, wiggled , and folded my toes and saw that the glue work was not going to hold for another 10 miles. Maybe it would, but my feet were hurting from the rocky terrain and the shoes are clearly tired, so I opt to switch to my road shoes. At the same time, I took off my beanie and put on a cap. (good move, since the sun was now high up and annoying, and it was too hot to have a beanie on) The ground feels real nice in my BrooksRadius. Sure I can feel more rocks than normal on hill climbs, and any loose rocks messes with my footing, but all non rocky ground feels great!

This is where I start looking at my watch. I don’t remember exactly what time I saw, but I’m thinking I only have 9 or 10 more miles, which should be about an hour 45 or so. This is going to put me at… hmmm… 7 thirty plus 2.5, plus 1, carry the 5… 5:15? Naah, No way. But maybe so. Probably more like 5:30, which is great!
After the aid station you do what they call the inner loop, which isn’t particularly nasty, but does have it’s fair share of rocky ups and downs, and rocky crap steps you need to deal with. I’m just thinking about the sahara boys, and thinking “just keep running, eventually I’ll be done.”

Still passing tons of 100kers, and eventually I return to crossroads for my final aid station. My friend Dan A is there, and we chat about his 25km. He ran great. I go inside and spot the volunteers mixing up a new batch of electrolytes. They’re stirring a big container of them and about to pour a few more gallons of water. “NO NO Wait!!!” I yell as I hurry over there, fill up my cup 3 times with extra strength stuff! They look at me like I’m weird, but hey, I just want the salts, I don’t want the water. I have water.
I chat with Dan a little more, and ask a volunteer where I am. He tells me I have about 5 more miles to go, but as I have absolutely no idea how fast I’m running and whats ahead of me, I figure, 14 min per mile maybe? I dunno, 1 hour 10, one hour 30 to go??? Dan looks at me puzzled because he has no clue either. I take my long sleeve off, tie it around my waist (in case I decide to put it back on) and take off. I can’t figure out when I may be done, and the restart from the aid station is especially painful. I can’t get going and just striggle along side of some 100k’ers that have hit their cruising pace. I just run along looking at my watch, and swap my music to something fresh. I continue along, and start recognizing these areas as the 25km from last year has the same last few miles finish as the 50km. The steep descents, the winding trail amongst the cedars etc. I now know I have that bitch of a climb called “Lucky” left, and know from last year that it’s a steep sucker. From the top of it, there’s maybe a mile, maybe a little over a mile to go. I’m looking at my watch and realize that 5 hours will mean 12:30pm. I’m sitting at 12:03, 12:12 etc. And now I’m thinking, you know, I may have a sub 5 here! But I don’t pick up the pace because it’s NOT a race. I see LUCKY a few hundred yards away, and a colored dot going up it. Yep! That’s it! I grab a GEL, and eat it real quick, hoping it’ll get into my bloodstream for some energy before I’m done.

I climb Lucky, PAINFULLY climbing it as fast as I can. There is no more walking up hills to conserve energy. This thing is steep, your head as you climg is about 2.5 to 3 feet from the ground, as you’re so tired and crouched over. I pass 2 more 100kers on the climb, and then at some point around here I see 12:20pm on my watch. I’m going to have to REALLY step it up now if I’m going to get in under 5 hours. How far off is my watch from the real race time? 30-45 seconds is a looong time when I have such little time get to the finish. I eventually reach the jeep trail and I’m now looking at my watch every 30 seconds or so. I remember seeing 12:26 and thinking. I am going to have to run sub 7 min miles to get a 3:30 half mile to squeeze in. I see the last aid station and they have a sign that says 0.5 miles to go. I crank up the tunes to it’s loudest and start running as hard as I can. Man this is going to be close. Mer’s husband, Paul is on the side of the road and I yell at him, I don’t think I’m going to get in under 5. I didn’t hear his response, but assume it’s something to cheer me on. I’m running for my life. 12:28... Where is the stupid barn??? 12:29… I am running and now just thinking, FORM MIKE, just like on the track, run with good form, (which allows me on the track to run even faster in the last lap of hard workouts). I am easily going faster than 5km pace. I’d say close to a 6 min pace. It’s definitely faster than when we run the last mile of our weekly long runs hard and those have clocked in at 6:13… 12:29:15. WHERE ARE YOU BARN??? There it is!! Oh man, this is going to be close… I’m giving all I got, a left, then a right, then a dip down and over a dry creek bed, and then a final left before 40 yards to the finish line. The clock is small but eventually I spot it… 4:59:36-37-38… I’ve got it!!! I’m in under 5!!!!

I finished officially with a 4:59:43 and was astounded by it. I seriously only wanted a 5:30 or 6 hour run!!!

About a 30 minutes later, I decided to go ask if they have a preliminary list of finishers so I can see if I cracked the top 20. They direct me to some laptops for self-service, and HOLY SHIT!!! I’m seventh!?!?! What ??? Oh my god!! I’m 7th and there’s one woman in front of me so I’m 6th overall Male!!! That means I get and AWARD for SURE!!!! Top 5 get prizes, and then 1st place for each age group, 20-29, 30-39, 40-49 etc.
WOOO HOOO!!!!

Not too shabby for a skinny road runner with minimal preparation!

This called for some post run beers, Capital Cowboy Pizza and lots and lots of smiles on my face for the rest of the afternoon!!!

Can't wait to do it again next year, or, do I go for 100km!?

What did I learn from this:
- I am much fitter than I ever imagined.
- 100km is a very very long way, because 50km was a very long way.
- 5 hours of running will bring many thoughts to your head. Real stupid ones, real good ones, real somber ones, and real positive ones. It's up to you to suppress the bad and hang on to the good.
- If you just keep at it, eventually you'll get where you want to be.

4:59:43 is 9:38 min per mile, or 6 min per KM

THE END