Jaunty. Months ago, right after I had recommitted to running a half-marathon trail race, a conversation with my long-distance running buddy led to the discovery of a race that began in a cave right here in Texas. For the adventurous spirit inside me it was a siren call too enchanting to resist, and I had signed up for it almost before I knew it. Of course, the fact that it was one week after my 54k (which happened to be my first race ever) was something that slipped by me in my enthusiasm. Would I still have signed up for both anyway? Yeah, probably. Would I have at least stopped to consider if that was a good idea? Meh, maybe. The thing is, I had been toying with the idea of running one race per month in 2020, and the 54k was in January, and the half-marathon cave run was in February, and we all know those are two different months. Realizing they were a week apart didn't dampen my excitement; if anything, attempting two races basically back to back was a challenge I was determined to overcome.
It was with no small amount of anticipation that Julia and I found ourselves in the wild country north of San Antonio at the beginning of February as we followed our fellow runners, descending single-file into a hole in the earth. We trailed along, strung out on the path as we turned our heads this way and that, trying to take in as many cave formations as possible. They began runners one at a time due to the cramped quarters, and we had a few minutes stopped in a small tunnel to chat and take in the fact that we were about to run a race through a cave. Julia and I made sure to take a picture together as we waited for our turn to begin, our excitement at this novel experience palpable.
Then it was our turn! Julia went first, for the sole purpose of me getting a picture of her beginning the race. I hadn't carried my phone for my last race, and I ended up regretting it because I would have loved more pictures. I learned this time around, and although it wasn't ideal to hold my phone in my hand the whole time I absolutely had easy access to take any picture I wanted! And yeah, I took a ton (it's me, come on). Most of my pictures I took while on the move, but there were several places where the formations or the scenery prompted me to stop in my tracks as I drank in everything around me. I absolutely squeaked with overwhelming excitement and joy after I was allowed to begin, running to catch up with Julia so we could experience this together. We ran past stalactites and stalagmites, past smooth flow-stone and fragile straws, along deep pits, and finally up steep switchbacks as we neared ground-level.
The transition from cave to sunrise air was shocking enough to prompt exclamations out of both of us; the caves in south Texas generally stay a consistent 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but a late winter Texan morning hovers right around 40. The difference was enough to see the condensation forming in the air in front of us through the doors at the surface, and as we passed through it we felt the drop in our bones. It didn't take long to forget about it, though, as we turned a corner and ran into the sunrise.
From the cave, the course looped through a great example of south-central Texas hill country, known for its rolling hills, little canyons, rocky trails, and (in the springtime) its wildflowers. We were a few weeks too early for flowers, unfortunately, but the crooked oak trees and little pastures more than made up for it. We ran up and down hills, along a dry creek bed, through tunnels of trees just waiting to burst into bloom, and across pastures that were already a green spring carpet beneath our feet. We had one major descent (not counting the cave) and I was able to let go and allow gravity to take the wheel. I've found I absolutely adore downhill running; I somehow know exactly how to place my feet to keep my legs under me, how to angle my body so I don't face-plant and skid in the dirt, and when I give it my all I feel like I'm flying. Of course, we went down so eventually had to go up, and I am significantly less adept at that. I power walk to the best of my ability, but holy cow do I suffer for it.
Even with a bit of walking, stopping to take pictures, and a near-constant flow of conversation, Julia and I managed to keep a steady pace throughout the 13.1 miles. As soon as we hit the pavement that signaled we were close to the finish line Julia asked how far I thought we had left to go, and I knew that was her way of asking if we could have it all out in the last few steps of the race. We saved it until we could see the bright red finish line arch at the bottom of a hill, next to the cave entrance where we had begun our race. Once we did, we sprinted, a giant grin on my face as I reflected that this was my first official half-marathon, that I had finished, that I had done it a week after an ultra-marathon, and that I felt like a million bucks even at the end of the run. Julia crossed the finish line less than four seconds before I did, and after catching our breath we set out to grab our finisher medals and snag some food as we came down from the exhilaration of finishing.
I absolutely did not take this race seriously. I was still somewhat recovering from my ultra-marathon (stupid knee) and I had plenty of time to complete the run, the course began in a cave then looped around a bit of privately-owned Texas hill country which meant there was plenty of scenery to gawk at, and I was running with one of my best friends whom I was determined to chat with the whole time. Despite my irreverence I somehow pulled off my best pace yet for that distance (asphalt and trail running combined!), finishing the half-marathon in under two and a half hours. Far from punishing my body with a bad race, running two races a week apart seemed to work out perfectly well for me, and I'd be lying if I said I'm not curious (or ambitious, or perhaps crazy) enough to try it again. I've got a bit of a break before my next race - I'm signed up for two more at the time of publishing - but I have every intention of hitting the trails between now and then just for fun, as well as a couple of non-running adventures planned. I have to say, it is certainly good to be back.
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