TNT

T'N'T...the Toughest 'N Texas trail race was held on March 16th in Cameron Park, Waco Texas. 

Even with the strong running community that exists in Waco, there are few individuals brave (or crazy) enough to attempt to run 50 kilometers on the rugged and highly technical trails of Cameron Park. 

Two years ago, I did TNT as my first ultra.  It has a special place in my heart and I looked forward to running it all year.  The problem, this year, is that in order to run TNT I would have to make the 16 hour drive back from Colorado within a couple days of the race.  No big deal really, except for the 16 hours sitting...that's not really good for the muscles.  And the sleep deprivation (we left at about 9pm).  And the junk food (honestly, who doesn't eat crap on a road trip).  OK, maybe it wasn't such a great idea.

Like any night before a race, I stayed up late preparing my gear, pinning my bib on my shorts, gathering Gu's and such.  I set my alarm for 5:30 and laid down on a lumpy sofa bed at about 12am.  Ah...the sweet five hours of sleep.

It wasn't cold as I carried my drop bag to the starting line.  The weatherman predicted temps in the high 70's--maybe even 80's.  That's hot, even for Texas in March.  I was acclimated to 45-50 degrees.  But I would much rather run in the heat than the cold, so there was no complaint from me. 

I saw some friends doing the last minute preparations as I heard someone call over a loud speaker "Seven Minute to the start of the 50K!" 

I tried to decide how much I really wanted to see where I was going.  It was still pretty dark and a headlamp would be imperative to see what the trail looked like...but I also knew that it would be light in about 20 minutes.  If I took the lamp out, I would have to carry it 10 miles until I finished my first loop.

"Forget it," I told myself.  20 minutes of vision was not worth 10 miles of annoyance.  I stuffed the lamp back into my bag.

"Alright guys.  50K runners line up.  We have three minutes."

CRAP.  I still had my long sleeve shirt and sweat pants on.  I hurriedly stripped.
CRAP.  I might want to listen to music along the trail.  I should put my MP3 player...just in case.
CRAP.  I didn't have any GU's handy.  I should really carry some of those.  Where the heck did I put those...

"50K...Get ready...10...9...8...7..."

Forget the Gu's.  I jumped to the back of the starting line feeling that despite staying up too late I might could have prepared better for this.

"GO!!!!"

No matter how many times you do it, you never get over the thrill of pouncing off a starting line with a group of runners who are as dedicated and crazy about the sport as you.  I tucked in behind a group with bright lights.  These first 20 minutes would be rough.

By three miles the darkness dispelled.  The lead group was long gone...which was ok.  I wasn't getting sucked into someone Else's race.  I felt pretty good as I trotted up a hill and into the first aid station.  It was there I saw one of the lead runners sitting on the ground, his ankle swollen to the size of a cantaloupe.  I met him the day before at packet pickup.  He flew in from Colorado for the race.  I  expressed my condolences, pounded his fist and headed back down the trail.

I know these trails.  This is my playground.  I floated up and charged down the steep inclines...being careful to not overdue it too early.

10 miles passed like a fleeting dream.  I felt good and began to think I might do alright in this race.  I hardly paused at the aid station. 

The sun started to burn by this point.  I was thankful for the strong wind which kept me somewhat cool.  Still, I was concerned because my fingers were swelling.  I couldn't remember if swelling meant I needed more water or salt.  Not that it really mattered.   I didn't have any salt.
Trucking into the aid station, I asked for advice..."I'm swelling.  Do I need water or salt?" I asked.

"How much are you drinking?" the attendant asked.

"I drink one of these," I said, holding up my handheld water bottle (16 oz) "between each station (3 miles)."

"Get some salt."

I ate potato chips.  They were AWESOME.  Salt was my problem.  I also noticed that I was cramping...another sign of running low on electrolytes.  Not wanting to waste too much time at the aid station, I grabbed another handful of chips, expressed my thanks, and dove back into the bushes. 

I ran the next three miles alone, feeling myself slip deeper and deeper into a state of semi exhaustion.  It was at this point I ran though a clearing, looked up through the trees into the blue sky and thought once again how awesome it was to run through the woods.  To be so blessed with a healthy body and to witness the beautiful creations.  I felt the love of God singing to my soul though the trees and wind and rocks and dirt and...

Oh my gosh! Is that a BEAR?

A small part in my brain said, No way.  Bears don't live in Cameron Park.  But my eyes saw a HUGE, black, hairy, beast sitting not 20 yards away in the trees.  I tried to stop but my legs were on autopilot.

"Good Morning," a friendly voice called.

Surely bears don't talk, I thought.

I looked up to see a man holding a leash.  This was good.  I wouldn't have to out run the bear...just the other man...
But when I looked back to the huge, hairy beast, it had transformed to a small, friendly dog.  I think I just entered the phase of hallucinations.  I have run much farther than before with no hallucinations, although I knew it wasn't uncommon.  I never had attempted a run like this on 5 hours sleep in the last three days.  This, I had a feeling, was about to get interesting.

"Your in 5th place," the aid station attendant called out.  He was trying to help...let me know where I stood, encourage me and what not.  But I wish he hadn't.

Fifth place...Just pick off two more and you'll place, that competitive voice in my brain chirped, sucking me into someone Else's race.  Another fellow runner, who was doing a shorter race that morning pulled out of the aid station.  He was flying.  I had competed against this guy a few times in other races and knew we were pretty evenly matched.  I tried to keep up with him and we chatted for  a few miles (once he realized that I wasn't competition today). 

By twenty miles, I gave up hope of placing.  The goal would now be survival.  My exhausted body struggled to stay upright.  I stumbled more with each mile.  It was only a matter of time, I knew, before I face planted and just hoped I would make it out with all my teeth in tact.

At the next aid station, I was greeted with the sweetest sight. 
"Come on, Babe.  You're looking great!" Mindi called.  I knew she was lying, but it was good to see her.  I dropped to the ground and dumped some tiny rocks out of my shoes.
"I'm tired." I confessed.  But this was a crowd of no sympathy.  I knew what I was getting into when I signed up, they told me as I was pushed back onto the trail.

I pressed on, step by step, mile by mile.  I had run these hills a million times but I couldn't for the life of me remember them being so freakin' steep and challenging.  Try as I might, I couldn't run for more than a quarter mile without needing to stop and walk to catch my breath.

Step by step; mile by mile.  I rounded a corner and realized that I was less than a mile away from the finish.  I pushed on.  As I cleared the top of the hill my legs completely gave out.  I lay on the trail, summoning the strength and will to continue.

"Are you Ok?" another runner asked as he rounded the corner.

I mumbled something in Ultrarunner, "Gurgle garb."  (That means "If you don't see me cross the finish line in an hour send someone back for my body.")

He understood.

I tried to get up and follow him but crashed back down as the world spun out of control.  "I'll wait another minute."

I focused my breathing and braced myself against a tree.  Slowly but surely I made it to my feet.  Step by step.  My legs shook but stabilized as I increased speed.

The finial climb of our loop is a stair case known as Jacob's Latter. 

I climbed the first ten steps before falling to my hands and knees and crawling. 
"Are you tired?" a small child asked as he passed with his parents.  I laughed to myself, noting that comment as the understatement of the day.  The runner behind me (who I had just passed) elaborated, "We've just run 30 miles and climbed these stairs 3 times.  Yeah.  We're tired."

I crossed the finish line six hours and 34 minutes after starting...more than 10 minutes faster than my previous time.

T'N'T...the aptly named Toughest 'N Texas.  I didn't donate as much blood to the trail gods as other races.  I didn't suffer pain like other runs.  I did hallucinate for the first time (I think I saw big bird out there in addition the bear/dog).  It wasn't the farthest or the hardest.  But it was one heck of  a race.

My favorite part of this race was being on the trails I train on with friends.  It was awesome to see friends and fellow Striders out on the course and cheering each other on.  There are too many indiviuals to attempt to name them here, for fear of leaving someone out, but I want to say thanks to all the great people I met, saw, and ran with (or in a few cases, behind) on the trails. 

I also need to give a HUGE thanks to my wife and ever supporting crew, which consists on my 4 kids.  You guys give me the motivation I need to keep going step by step, mile by mile.