Just three weeks after Cowtown 50K, I found myself in the remote north Texas park LBJ National Grasslands for a trail marathon. Last fall, my dad convinced me that The Grasslands Run would be a useful training run in our build up for Comrades.
Here’s the thing: I’m not a great trail runner.
But I decided to go for it, and stepping out of the car and feeling the wind whip around in the 35 degree morning, I knew I was in for a long morning. That was kind of the point, though. I needed to get the miles of a marathon in, but a slower-than-normal training pace was ideal. A trail marathon fit the bill perfectly.
The race course was made up of two different loops, the first loop was 12.8 miles and the second was 13.5. Quick math will tell you that the total distance was 26.3 miles– 0.1 longer than a standard marathon– and that’s just the way it goes. I opted to wear tights (thanks to my SIL who lent them to me because the weather was much cooler than forecast when I packed three days prior to the race), a light but long sleeve t-shirt (of the only race I’ve ever entered but not run…thanks to The Stowaway), and a lightweight vest my parents gave me last Christmas. I also wore my hydration backpack, as The Grasslands is a cup-less race.
The race started with the usual bubbling excitement, and runners headed off for the first loop…only to grind to a near stop about 30 seconds into the race. The trail narrowed so significantly that I was reduced to a walking pace for the first six minutes of the race. There was no way to pass another runner until then. I was okay with that, as I kept reminding myself: “This is just a training run.” That was my mantra of the day.
The trails were a combination of single track, equestrian trails, and very occasional jeep roads. I found the single track hard to run on because, as a bow legged runner, my feet would whack the sides of the trail, nearly tripping myself. I found the equestrian trails hard to run because they were rutted out by horseshoes (see below), and I didn’t want to break an ankle. I found the jeep roads not so hard to run, except for where there was mud. There were also stretches of sandy trails, which was a bit like running through a beach…made of quicksand.
Trail conditions were good, according to the race director and other runners. I’m just going to have to accept their word for it and remember that I am not a trail runner. All I know is that I was running side-to-side across the trails nearly as much as I was running forward, always trying to gain better footing. I felt my feet shifting in my shoes, and at one point around 90 minutes into the run I stopped to tie my left shoe in hope of making my foot more stable.
There were no hills longer than about 1/10 of a mile, yet there was much more elevation change in the course than I expected. At the top of one gentle rise just after I got into my first running stretch, I was greeted by a wide open vista of a beautiful Texas sunrise– ribbons of pink, orange, and red on the horizon with a ruggedly stoic grassland prairie in the foreground. For a minute I started to understand why people love trail running!
The course was very gently rolling the whole way, and that required using a lot of the stabilizing muscles in my ankles and hips that normally get a free ride during a marathon. I didn’t feel any more tired than normal during the run itself, but I did feel like the whole thing was just more work: looking to place every footfall carefully, pulling back in the downhills because I was scared of slipping and falling, having to pick up my feet just a smidgen more with each step so as to not catch a tree root. And that’s to say nothing of the sections of trail where the grass (and vines and briars) of The Grasslands scraped against my legs.
One of the main differences between trail running and road running is that there are no mile markers on the trail. Other than hearing everyone’s GPS watches beep around the one-mile mark (12:15), I had no idea where I was along the course. I’ve been rather outspoken on the Comrades Facebook group regarding the fact that GPS watches are an unnecessary addition to the running world. After all, it doesn’t really matter if your GPS says that the race is short or long– you still have to run from the start to the finish. I had to get comfortable with the uncertainty of where I was in the race, and that was a mental challenge.
When I returned to the start/finish area after the first loop, I took off my pack and removed the vest. I considered changing into a short sleeve top, too, but I wasn’t too hot in my long sleeve, so I left it on. This proved to be a good decision, as I liked pulling the sleeves down during the more exposed sections of the course when the wind was strong and I got a bit chilled. I did not, however, remember to use the port-a-potty nor did I reapply Body Glide to my rubbing left foot. While the first issue was easily remedied with a trip into the bushes shortly after heading out on the second loop, the second ignored issue would prove more foolish.
Another difference between road and trail running was that the aid stations were further apart than I am used to, but with my hydration pack on I had plenty of water. I ate a Gu around 1:10, but that was the only supplement I took the whole run. When I arrived at the first aid station, I wanted to try the Tailwind nutrition and electrolyte drink that I knew would be on offer. I grabbed my collapsible cup out of the pocket of my hydration pack and downed some Tailwind. Holy schmoly, that stuff is smooth. It was like drinking water, but I knew I was getting good calories and replacing the salt the wind was buffeting out of me. I also availed myself of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at each aid station, eating 1/4 sandwich without any effort at all. I think the highlight of the race was getting to the 4:00 mark and, despite not knowing how much further I had left to run, still feeling like I had plenty of fuel in the tank. And the tank was happy, too!
The trail running experience is a bit lonely. While I savor the individuality of running and the silence of the long run, at times I felt like I would have enjoyed someone to talk to for a bit. I exchanged a few pleasantries with fellow runners as I passed them (or got passed), but it was a fairly isolated experience. I kept reminding myself that it was good mental training for Comrades, where keeping focus will be a challenge.
In the end, I utilized the same four minutes running/one minute walking strategy that got me to the end of Cowtown feeling strong. Despite the second loop being longer than the first, I ran a negative split (2:27 for the first 12.8 miles) and finished in 4:54:08. That’s about a minute per mile slower than the 50K I ran just three weeks prior. But it’s also about 30 seconds per mile faster than I need to run Comrades to finish just under 11 hours– and safely under the 12 hour course limit. That to say, job well done for a long training run.
I sat in my camp chair at the finish, admiring the dust on my shoes and being grateful to finish strong:
When I took off my shoes, I was amazed by how much dust got all the way through my socks and in between my toes, not to mention the delightfully dusty farmer tan on my ankles:
No, I don’t always match my toenail polish to my shoes.
Ah, yes…..there’s that blister I felt rubbing on my left foot for more than three hours:
Lesson Learned: STOP to fix a hot spot before it becomes a giant blister. While this was tolerable for 5 hours, could I have run on it for another 6-7 hours? Doubtful.
Thankfully, I had a pair of flip flops in my drop bag at the finish. As I was walking toward the car to grab my dry clothes and fleece, I got sidetracked by the delicious post-race food:
After eating, I headed down the trail just a bit to wait for my dad and cheer him in to the finish:
When I turned to watch him finish, I caught sight of the staging area and was reminded of all the great weekends of my childhood spent at trail runs and ultras. I stood there a minute in the bright Texas sun, listened to the happy, friendly chatter of runners and supporters, and felt grateful to be a part of the trail running community.
Thanks for a good run, North Texas Trail Runners.