Running two 50K races in four weeks seemed like a good idea when I was plotting out my Comrades training plan last autumn.  I survived the first 50K in Waco at the Miracle Match Ultramarathon at end of January.  My training throughout February went well, but I started to feel some fatigue– both mental and physical– towards the end of the month.  I had some logistical issues pop up regarding the Cowtown race weekend, and I had the thought I might not run.  But it all worked out, and I headed up to Ft. Worth with one of my oldest and best friends for an overnight girls’ trip.

I went in to the Cowtown 50K with no real knowledge of the race course.  I’d heard it described by some people as “hilly” and others as “runner-friendly.”  I know that my Austinite idea of hilly is different than a DFW person’s idea of hilly.  Once I heard that there was a woman trying to set a new American record at 50K, I gained confidence that the course wouldn’t be too tough.  With that knowledge, I set my plan of running the first ten minutes of the race and then moving to a run four minutes/walk one minute pattern for the rest of the race.  The weather was forecast for mid-50s at the start, heating up to low 70s, with good cloud cover but strong 20mph winds.  It seemed a bit of a mixed bag.  I wanted to run between 5.15 and 5.20, but I felt that if I ran comfortably the whole way, my time was less important.  This was a training run, after all.

On race day I caught the shuttle from my downtown hotel to the race start area at Will Rogers Memorial Center in Ft. Worth’s cultural district.  I had almost an hour and a half before the 7am start time to wait, and I was glad that I found a seat inside the expo center where I could relax and stay warm.  As the hall filled with runners, the nervous energy buzzed louder.

When it was time to move outside to the start corrals, I was really ready to run.  I was feeling impatient to just get going already, and that feeling grew exponentially when I learned that the start was done corral-by-corral in four-minute start time waves.  That meant I had an extra 20 minutes to stand around and wait– brutal!  I chatted with other 50K runners gathered around the 5:30 pace group leader.  We shared our strategies for the race, and I had to keep reminding myself to run my own race.  This was my best opportunity to practice my run/walk rhythm in the context of other people racing around me.

It was finally our turn to start, and the first mile took us out of the cultural district down a gentle, long downhill.  I went through Mile 1 in 10:15, bang on pace.  I initiated the 4/1 run/walk intervals, and I kept moving right along.  The course headed north, running through neighborhoods where there were decent crowds out even at the early hour.  Around Mile 7, we ran through the historic Ft. Worth Stockyards.  I have fond memories of going to the stockyards with my grandparents when I was a child, and I ran all the way down the brick road with a smile on my face.  We then ran on a nearly two-mile long straight stretch into downtown Ft. Worth, so we could see the beautiful Renaissance-revival 1893 Tarrant County Courthouse straight ahead for miles.  I could see that we ran downhill for a while to cross the Trinity River and then back uphill to get to the courthouse and into downtown.  As I was running, I heard other runners refer to it as “hell bridge” because it was such a long and brutal hill.

Um….yes, it’s an uphill grade.  Yes, it’s kind of long (maybe 800-1000 meters).  But, really.  It was barely a hill at all. I suddenly felt a huge surge of confidence, because this was supposedly the hardest hill on the course.  Boom….done and dusted.

I knew that my friend, M, would be out on the course around the 10 mile mark.  And just as I looked up, there she was right in front of me.  I was happy to see a friendly face and thrilled that I was feeling so relaxed.  I was also really proud of myself for having stuck to my 4/1 plan, keeping my place between the 4:30 marathon pace group and the 5:30 50K pace group.  Everything was going really well.

Shortly after I saw M, the half-marathoners broke off from the marathon and 50K course.  Instead of feeling jealous, I remember thinking, “But we just got started!  How can they be heading to the finish already!?”

I then saw two guys who were hanging out with the 5:30 pace group in the start corral.  They were trying to figure out why the group about 20 meters in front of us had a 4:30 sign.  I shouted over to them that the group was the 4:30 pace group for the marathon.  Just then, it was time for me to take a walk break, so I did.

I started running again and caught up with the guys.  They asked why I stopped to walk when it looked like I was doing fine.  I explained my strategy to them, told them I was out for a long training run, and I wanted to just get through the 50K feeling good.  One of the guys, Alex, mocked me a bit and asked how long it took me to get over my feeling of “cheating” by walking.  I calmly explained to him– as I have to many, many others before him– that the objective is to get from the start to the finish under your own power as quickly as possible.  If taking walk breaks helps me do that, it’s not cheating at all.  He said he wasn’t so sure about the idea that walking can help you maintain pace, and then I pointed out that I was running alongside him after eleven miles, and I’d already taken twenty walk breaks!

Alex and his buddy Tad asked if they could run with me for a bit.  I made clear that they were welcome to join me, but I was going to follow my 4/1 run/walk pattern, and I wasn’t going to go in front of the 4:30 marathon pace group until at least Mile 18.  We chatted amicably as we ran, and I was glad for the company.  I learned this was the first 50K attempt for both of them, and they both had only one standard marathon under their belts, too.  I was happy to share my nearly two decades of distance running experience with them, and they were happy to hear it.  We were a nice little team.

As the miles peeled by, Alex couldn’t believe that even though we were walking for two minutes every mile, our average pace was getting faster.  I noticed that he wasn’t eating anything, and he assured me that he’d eaten some honey before the race started, and that would be plenty for him.  Tad and I were skeptical of this fueling approach, happy to have our Gu from our waistpacks and pickles and bananas from some of the kind spectators along the route.

As we went through an aid station between Mile 16 and 17, I saw the one family I know who live in Ft. Worth!  The mom was one of my first friends when I moved to Austin 11+ years ago, and they recently relocated to Cowtown.  It was such a thrill to see their youngest child on the side of the road:

I ran over to the side, feeling sorry that I’d just popped about six Jelly Belly Sportbeans into my mouth, but I gave them a shout and high-fived all three kids.

Awkward stride and funky faux-dance position in the pic notwithstanding, it was such a boost to see them.  Again, I was glad to still be feeling so great around my personal cheerleaders!  This also gave me mega-credibility with my new friend as we ran on.

Somewhere around Mile 18, the guys and I pushed in front of the 4:30 marathon pace group.  I reminded them that we still had a half-marathon to run, so we needed to vigilantly maintain our 4/1 strategy.  I kept the nutrition going down, too, trying out Justin’s peanut butter and honey packets– tasty, but what a mess!!– and as many bananas as I could get from spectators.  (Okay, not really.  I think I ate about one banana total over three different handouts.)  I was so pumped that my stomach was happy, my legs were strong, and I felt like I was out for a gentle run.  The course was quite lovely, running through beautiful residential neighborhoods and city parks, so I had plenty to look at while we ran.

By the time we got to the Trinity River path around Mile 22, Tad was fading a bit.  Alex started asking when the next walk break was.  I could tell that they were going to struggle over the last 60-90 minutes.  I cheered them along, counting down the minutes until walk breaks, and encouraging them when it was time to start running again.  I told them to focus on the race four minutes at a time.  I felt grateful to be in the coach role, feeling good enough myself that I could direct my energy toward the guys.

At around 24.5 miles, the marathoners peeled off and turned for home.  We knew this meant a boring out and back stretch along the Trinity River for our additional 4.9 miles.  It was the least interesting part of the course, the sun had finally broken through the clouds so it was starting to heat up, and there were tons of gnats flying around in our faces.  Tad was now seriously flagging, but he hung with us until Mile 26.  This was long enough for us to run by my friend M again, as she’d walked out to the course so she could cheer me on during this desolate and dreary stretch of the race.

Team Red Shirts hung together a few more miles.  Then Tad dropped off at the aid station near Mile 26, needing some time to take in more fluids.  He was fatigued and starting to cramp.  Alex was wanting to walk more, but I encouraged him too keep up the 4/1.  I also tried to get him to eat something– he still hadn’t taken in any calories (other than in diluted Powerade) the whole run.  We went through the marathon together in 4:24, and I assured him that breaking 5:30 was in the bag.  Between the marathon marker and the 27 mile marker, however, he stopped and walked an extra time.  At the turnaround (just past 27.5 miles), I grabbed a small cup of Coke, as I felt a boost of sugar would do me some good mentally and physically.  I was really starting to heat up.

Little did I realize that we’d been running with a tailwind on the ultra leg.  This meant I had 2.5 miles of strong, gusty headwind to contend with to get me back to almost Mile 30.  I saw Alex was about 40 seconds behind me at Mile 28, and Tad was another two minutes behind that.  I kept cheering on the runners I saw on their way out to the turnaround, acknowledging that turning the focus on other people helped keep it off of myself.  And as I was fatiguing and heating up and being annoyed by the headwind, thinking less about those things was a positive.

I also got some nice cheering from M as I passed by her one more time.  This was just the encouragement I needed to get in to the finish feeling good.  You can see how sparsely-populated the 50K out-and-back leg was.  Ah, the life of a lonely ultrarunner!

There were two uphills in the last mile, and I was more than happy to walk up both of them.  I was proud of sticking to my plan the whole race, and since I wasn’t running for time, I didn’t feel the need to push hard to the finish.  I admit that it was a boost to hear spectators in the final half-mile shouting “Go, Ultra Karen!” and know that I’d achieved my goal of finishing 50K where I’d enjoyed pretty much every step.

It was work, but it was fun.  My legs felt great the whole way.  My breathing was totally in control the whole way.  I never got cramps, never got an upset stomach, and never lost focus.  I ran my own race.  And at the end of the day, I finished in 5:15:47, which is a Personal Record at 50K.  Not bad for a training run!

I was glad to see M when I returned back to our hotel, and I gave her the race recap as I stretched a bit before hopping in the shower.  M kindly and safely chauffeured me back to Austin to wrap up the day.

I didn’t see my guys finish, but I looked up their results after the race.  Alex finished about 3 minutes behind me, and Tad finished about 10 minutes behind me.  Both beat their 5:30 goal….and hopefully learned something along the way.  Running is an individual sport, but the community is what makes it so satisfying.  I doubt I’ll ever see these guys again, but I’m grateful our paths crossed in Cowtown.

Kudos to the organizers and volunteers of The Cowtown.  It was one of the best-organized races I’ve ever run, and every person I encountered– from the expo volunteers to the shuttle bus drivers to the police on the race course to the spectators– was incredibly friendly.  And after running 31 miles through Ft. Worth, I understand why people love living in this beautiful, culture-rich city.