Self-sufficient. I hadn't exactly intended to run this particular race. I hadn't been planning on running it even before COVID-19 and quarantine and social distancing hit us all. I had been signed up to volunteer at an aid station for the race at Brazo's Bend State Park down by Houston, my preferred place to see gators, but when the race directors cancelled every race from late February through May my volunteering was cancelled as well. Then they rolled out the virtual options for the cancelled races, offering the same distances, bibs, shirts, and medals a participant would receive during the in-person race, with the slight adjustment of letting each person run when they can, where they can. I was sold.
Running a virtual race versus an in-person race is pretty much the same thing: you put one foot in front of the other and run the distance you signed up for in what is hopefully a decent amount of time. There are a few significant differences though, as I discovered during my first TROT (Trail Racing Over Texas) Virtual Run. First and foremost, you don't have the social aspect of the race when you're doing it on your own. In this case that's the whole point, but I found myself missing the other runners and race volunteers, all of whom would normally be ready with an encouraging word and a heap of snacks at the aid stations. The aid stations were another thing I sorely missed; instead of having a table full of a variety of foods, electrolytes, and water refills, I was responsible for my own fuel during my run, carried my own water, and otherwise had to take care of myself. Sure, I could have planned my course so that I did loops or laps that took me back to my car every 5-10 miles so that I could refuel there and not carry so much, but I don't yet have the will-power to keep going when I could easily call it quits, get in my car, and go home. During a virtual race, you are also responsible for planning your own route. While there are advantages to that (hello flat trails and no elevation gain!) there are also disadvantages in the form of poor planning or just plain boring routes. Again, I could have planned my route to take me past my car somewhat frequently, but I didn't want to risk giving up. Instead, I planned a route that would take me 13+ miles away from my car, essentially forcing me to complete the distance so long as I didn't turn around before I hit the end of the trail.
While I would have preferred to run the race on the originally intended course at Brazo's Bend, I think I did rather well for myself considering I changed plans about half a dozen times. When I signed up for this race I had hoped to run it at my local state park, so that I could be close to home and because I already know the trails there. That idea was dashed when Texas closed all the state parks in response to the virus, because apparently people here (and everywhere, really) can't follow instructions to social distance. I toyed with the idea of running on the roads around my house, but I get horrible shin splints when I run on concrete and really didn't want to suffer that much. Then I hoped to run the race on a national recreation trail about an hour south of my house, in the heart of one of four national forests here in Texas, but further digging the night before I wanted to run led to the discovery that most of the 20 mile trail is closed for one reason or another. Finally, I decided to run a trail I've hiked a few times in the past, when breaking my own personal distance records in previous years: Turkey Creek Trail at Big Thicket National Preserve.
I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting myself into for this run. I'd hiked Turkey Creek Trail before, knew it was flat, if somewhat boggy in places, and it was roughly 20 miles from end to end. Hurricane Harvey wrecked havoc on the preserve and surrounding area, though, and did enough damage to the south end of the trail that they had to close it until repairs can be made. This left me with just about 14 miles to work with, running out and back, plus adding another four miles somewhere to hit that 50k mark, or 31.1 miles. I could do it. And I was bringing Ghost, too.
Ghost has found his purpose in life ever since I started running with him. He's a giant baby and hates water and heights, but if I take him out for a run he forgets everything except keeping pace with (or leading) me. We arrived at the northern trailhead for Turkey Creek just before 8am on a cloudy, cool April morning, and set out right after loading up with food and water. Ghost has his own backpack, which allows him to carry his own snacks, water, and bowl, and gives me a break from carrying extra weight. I have my own hydration vest - a gift from Torrey - that is more than sufficient to carry water, sweet and salty snacks, a rain jacket, and other little things that I would otherwise find at an aid station table. I'm generally adamant about being self-sufficient (probably a trait from backpacking and my Type A personality) and while I would have liked to ditch the weight of so many bottles of water and instead filled up at aid stations, I had no issue in relying on myself to provide what I needed. Covered in bug spray and satisfied we had everything we needed, we began.
I am not, and never will be, a fast runner. I am much more invested in distance, in pushing myself as far as I can go, in the mental battle that takes place between the logical part of me that screams what the fuck do you think you're doing, you can't go that far, and the tiny but much louder part of me that crosses her arms, raises her eyebrows, and snaps back yes, I can. I am perfectly happy with a 12, 13, or 14 minute mile. Hell, 12 minute miles are fast for me. I am just fine with power hiking when I need a break. And so I am okay with the fact that Ghost and I started out great with 12 minute miles, then eventually slowed to 16 minute miles, with a few 20 minute miles sprinkled in when I slowed down to eat a bag of M&Ms and a handful of pretzles at miles 5, 15, and 25. And those two 10-minute breaks I took at miles 10 and 20 to change my socks, eat half a Kind bar and a pickle spear, and dig out another water bottle from the bottom of my pack? No big deal.
I took the social distancing orders to heart on this race, and only saw three other human beings during the entire 31 miles, and all of them were at the trailhead as I was finishing up. On the trail itself, other than a plethora of bugs, I saw two other living creatures: a young coyote who we surprised as we rounded a bend in the trail, whom I locked eyes with before it turned tail and fled up the path before disappearing in the brush, and a copperhead snake (yes, one of the venomous ones here in Texas) whom Ghost stepped right over before I even saw it stretched across the trail, whom didn't even move as I gave a dramatic gasp and jump away from it, yanking Ghost by the leash. Neither the coyote nor the snake bothered us, and we went on our way though I was decidedly more vigilant after seeing the copperhead. I had been in a headspace that's almost a trance, the meditation state that I fall into during long runs where I'm just aware enough to keep to the trail but also removed enough to not notice how my muscles ache, how my toes are sore, how my heartbeat throbs in my fingers. After the little reminder that there are things in the woods that could send my day into a downward spiral of awfulness I was a little more aware of my surroundings, and definitely kept my eyes on the trail both in front of myself and in front of Ghost.
We reached the beginning of the trail and my car at mile 27, right around seven hours after setting out. After a quick refill of water bottles and a purging of empty ones, reapplying bug spray because the mosquitoes were swarming after the repellent wore off after twenty miles and Ghost and I were being eaten alive, plus ditching Ghost's pack, we ran back to the trail. I needed to hit 31.1 miles to reach a 50k distance, and so needed to run out and back just a couple of miles. I was in no danger of quitting, despite being near my car; I was only four miles from finishing this, I felt great, and Ghost was happy to be without his pack. We were good! It's almost stupid to admit, but the only concern I had was my phone battery dying. I used my phone to track my distance and time, and if it died on me before I finished I wasn't sure if it would record my run or if it would be lost. I ran my fastest four miles at the very end of the race, desperate for my phone battery to last. I had 10% charge, and watched that number drop at an alarming rate during the last mile. I all but sprinted it, huffing and puffing through a stitch in my side and burning calf muscles, Ghost loping alongside me with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. I'm sure I looked like a lunatic as I ran circles around the tiny trailhead parking lot, trying to hit the last two tenths of a mile that would push me firmly over to my 50k distance. When I saw my distance numbers roll over I practically sobbed with relief, sprinting over to my car to plug my phone in while also hitting "finish" and "save workout" on the running app.
Only once I was sure that my phone was charging and my run was saved did I allow myself a little happy dance for completing my second 50K ever, my fourth race total. I showered Ghost with love and treats, so incredibly proud of him for not only finishing his first 50K distance but leading me for the entire way. He never once dragged behind, never once showed any sort of wish to slow down or stop. There were even times when he would pull insistently on the leash, clearly wanting to go faster, and it is probably because of him that I managed to shave 12 minutes off my time for that distance, finishing this 50K race in 7 hours 46 minutes. We will definitely be running a 50K together again, and it just so happens that I'm signed up for two more virtual races of that distance, with plans to sign up for four more once registration opens next month. While I might not have originally intended to run the Brazos Bend 50, and although I missed some of the things that come with a supported in-person race, virtual racing has definitely grown on me, and I'm absolutely sure Ghost enjoys it too.
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