Being alone can sometimes be scary, it can sometimes be nerve racking, it can play tricks on your mind…BUT…it just may surprise you that things aren’t as bad as you make them out to be.

I wasn’t really alone at the 2014 Hell’s Hills trail races…in fact, oddly enough I was surrounded by more of my running friends than I ever have been at a race. This time was different though, EVERYBODY was racing and most of us were running without a crew.

[Participating in Hell’s Hills almost didn’t happen for me, I was fresh off of a “Birthday Miles” run just two weeks earlier in which I developed a nagging pain in my left hip.  Due to my schedule and my own stubbornness really, I had not gotten around to getting it checked out and just took it easy in the time I had before the race.  I told myself if it didn’t go away I wouldn’t race at Hell’s Hills but as race day got closer and closer and more people signed up I really couldn’t stand that I was sidelined.  About 4 days before the race I finally felt good enough that I thought I may be able to finish without injury.]

The night before the race I had opted to sleep at home, figuring an easy 45 minute drive to Rocky Hill Ranch wouldn’t make my morning too difficult.  I’m NOT a morning person but I do get up fairly early for the boot camp sessions I train 4 times a week.  But this was REALLY early…the race started at 6am and I had to register on-site.  I ended up getting roughly 5 hours of sleep and then groggingly patching together a breakfast and packing up while half asleep.

Traffic was extremely light and I ended up getting to the ranch very early so I had plenty of time to prepare before the timer counted down.  The rituals of eating, going to the bathroom, drinking coffee, going to the bathroom and deciding what to wear during the race consumed the next hour and a half.  Despite the cold weather, I decided to keep clothing to a minimum knowing that much of the race would be out of the wind and under tree cover.  The lighter the better!

As the timer counted down we were off, the lead pack fairly tight together for the first couple miles before the leaders decided they were warmed up enough to pick up pace.  This race starts with a pretty steady series of uphill twists and turns before finally leveling out (not for long) for the next couple miles.  It was here that Ty, Melanie Fryer and I started to fall into a rhythm (as much of a rhythm as you can develop on this course).  Perhaps the conversation and good vibes got the best of me as I started to pick up pace.  Soon I was jockeying for position between the 3 of us…moving in front of Ty and eventually Melanie.  It wasn’t my intention to go ahead of them, just lead for a little bit.

I was hearing conversation the entire time (I’ve never really had a chance to talk to Melanie much) but it started to get more and more faint as the miles ticked off.  Soon it was gone and after countless turns…there ARE that many…I found myself alone.  I suppose I was paying more attention to avoiding a fall than I was to the conversation.  After that it was up/down/up/down/left turn/right turn/left turn/right turn over and over again.  This goes on for about 5 miles before a fairly pleasant field of bluebonnets greets you as you arrive at the first aid station.

As has become habit I skipped the first station…I can usually get away with it as long as I have enough gels and the temps don’t have me drinking too much water.

The next section is more of the same…hills, up…down…turn…turn not always in that order but nonetheless this is the terrain…with LOTS of rocks (the small kind that seem to bite your feet as you catch one on the edge of your shoe).  At this point the sun was rising and the trail was starting to feel more comfortable as foot placement got easier with the sunlight.

As I started feeling that sentiment exactly I was reminded of a nasty truth…get too comfortable in trail running and you’re GOING to trip.  And trip I did…as I descended a hill a small root caught my toe.  I was soon flying…arms outstretched, bottle breaking my fall on one side…rock rash on the other.  I didn’t even stop…as I fell I was back up again…almost like a flying burpee.  The adrenaline released during a fall can be a great boost if you utilize it correctly.

I checked myself out a little later as I neared the next station…I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to need any medical work…luckily I came out mostly unscathed.  Quick stop for water and on again to the next section.

It was a big, fat, lie of a trail section…starting out fairly open…with some totally run-able hills but mostly straightened out compared to what preceded it.  THAT did NOT continue.  Soon we were on what could only be described as a roller coaster trail meant for mountain bikers…NOT runners.  Somehow this is what I’ve come to expect of Joe Prusaitis and his crazy courses.  Luckily it was only a few miles of torture before the last mile brings you back to camp.  I finished the first loop in 2:07 and change…much faster than I expected given the nature of the course.

I didn’t stay long at the half, there really weren’t any people I knew there so I was task focused like any other aid station…load up on gels, fill water, take salts, thank volunteers…and off I was!

I still hadn’t seen Ty and Melanie as I was at camp but as I set off again they were coming in.  They both looked fresher than I felt…which can be deceiving given that you always feel worse than you look.  This put me in an interesting state of mind.  The last time I was just a hair ahead of Ty was at Bandera 100k and we’ve had a lot of good times laughing about how it got both of us competitive.  He was trying to chase me down the entire time as I was trying to escape him.  Figuring this was once again the case (it definitely was in my mind) I mustered all I could to set myself back into a rhythm on the first 5 mile section.  What I didn’t think about was how much easier I had taken the first 47 miles of the 100k before the last 15.  I once again had 15 miles left but I had been putting in more effort during this race.

I felt pretty good for the next 5 miles…even the next 7 or 8 before I started to slow from the pain and fatigue.  I was starting to take gels closer together now in an attempt to stave off the inevitable.  By about mile 26 my competitive mood turned to a dark intense anxiety that dominated every thought as the pain in my hip returned.

“This mile was off pace, they’re catching up.”

“That trip just slowed me down, they’re catching up.”

“If I am running at a :30 slower pace and they’re 3 minutes behind they’ll catch up in 6 miles…that’s not even halfway into this loop, they’ll catch me.”

Those are seriously the calculations that start to appear in my mind as I reach my darkest places.  As soon as one starts to overcome you with grief you try to think of another one to calm yourself back down.

“If I can run the same pace thru this section they’ll only catch up in 12 miles and then I’ll have a chance to race them to the finish.”

Thought after thought…calculation after calculation…all consuming me until I realized I’ve slowed down even MORE.

Then it happened…at the second aid station as I filled my bottle and tried to regain my composure, Melanie rounds the bend.  She looks fresh…she definitely paced this race well.  She’s a little more experienced than me and I accepted her smarter strategy.  As she left me behind she gave encouraging words that kept me from falling into a pit of self-loathing.

[This simple act is just a testament to this sport and how supportive even fierce competitors can be.  There’s this common faith in the process…and that everyone runs their own race.  I have never felt that kind of community in any other sport I’ve competed in.]

Just as I’m accepting the fate that Melanie had outpaced me a male 50k runner also passes me.  The next 5 miles seemed to drag on forever…I was in pain…I was tired…SO tired…I felt nothing but the pain in my hip and the frustration that I’d started the race too fast.  It was just after the next Jeep road section that I resorted to walking.  I had convinced myself that I was done.  “Just finish, you’re not competing anymore” said the voice in my head.  Immediately after that thought, I saw a woman I had exchanged kind words with during the first loop (she was running the 50 miler), she was catching up and passing me.  When she did she said a few simple words, “Just a little bit to go, you might as well just push it a little longer and run”.  The words got to me…in the perfect place…I could still run, I just let my frustration and pain stop me.  So I picked up pace…probably at a pace not much faster than a speedwalk.  I could at least shave some time off…and Ty still hadn’t caught me.

The hills…oh those hills that Joe likes to put at the end of races…there they were.  I let out a big sigh as I started to speedhike again…this time up and down over and over…for the next few miles.  I told myself I’d hike them and as soon as it flattened out a little, run the last mile and a half.  The 50 miler’s words must have had more effect on me than I realized because I had soon caught back up to her.

“There ya go!” she said as she saw me coming up behind her.  Three more kind words fueled me like an “emotional gel”.

Then the Jeep road…and the cattle guard…it was happening…I was on the last mile.  I ran as fast as I could…which was still pretty slow at that point and crossed the finish line with a slow jog.

“Congratulations” I hear as I step across the line, “5th place!”

“REALLY???” was the only word I could mutter.

I had given it everything I had…and actually finished in my second fastest (by only 9 minutes) 50k time ever…on a pretty tough course!  The negativity was all in my mind…it wasn’t bad…it was just a 70/30 split in effort…I had done well.  Despite how I felt…my performance was good.  As I met up with other running friends and told them my time the feedback started to build a little with each conversation.  The frustration and disappointment that I had crashed at mile 27 was slowly replaced with reassurance that this was in-fact a well-run race overall.

Mental note: LEARN HOW TO PACE!!!