Coyote 50k - The race that almost wasn't, but ended up being a little more.

 I was super nervous about this race because it was supposed to be my "comeback" race as well as a checkpoint for my 100k training.

I decided to car camp to make sure I actually got to the race the next morning.  After a good dinner with friends and makeshift tailgating with my DDR peeps, I finished the night chatting with Chad in our camping chairs by the cars and then reading my book.  That night sleep eluded me because I forgot my pillow.  Of course I forgot my pillow because as I was leaving the house earlier that day, I bragged that I had everything and Christopher said I would forget SOMETHING.  Boom.  Pillow.  Started my restless sleeping around 11PM, woke up at 3AM to turn the heat on and evidently eat some Wheat Thins that I don't remember eating - I suffer from a disorder called the Midnight Munchies.  I finally fell asleep around 5AM only to have Chad bang on my car an hour and fifteen minutes later and twenty minutes before my alarm was due to set off.  A bunch of expletives and middle fingers directed toward him as he laughed, I decided to walk to the bathroom and let the cold wake me up a little.  As I left the bathroom, a bunch of people ran by me donning headlamps and I asked what was going on.  One runner glanced in my direction and incredulously informed me that it was a trail race.  Duh.  The fifty milers started at 6AM, so obviously there would be people with headlamps - my brain just didn't compute the fact sans coffee.

My home Friday night:

Fast forward - I got back to my car, chugged my Coke Zero energy drink and proceeded to go through the motions of getting race day ready.  That was something I could definitely do in my sleep.  Once I was good to go, I headed over to the shuttle pick up spot only to discover a very long line.  Suddenly I was very thankful for the rude awakening.  When I finally arrived at the starting point, Helen was there waiting to take my pre-race photo. 

As I crossed the start line, Chris Barnwell was there just shaking his head because I was fifteen minutes late.  It wouldn't be a race without my late starts!

On the first loop, people kept saying, "Hi Amanda!" and I only recognized a few.  Either it was sleep deprivation or they were the cheerleaders I prayed for the night before when I was getting right with God pre-race.  Six miles of rocks and hills later plus getting lost for a handful of yards, I tweaked my knee pretty bad.  No joke, a few minutes later I heard crows circling overhead which is never a good sign.  It was at that point that I reached Death Hill.  I recognized it from the course preview we did the week before and heeded Helen's advice telling myself I only had to see it three more times.  I scaled the hill and proceeded the roughly 1.5 miles back to the start to close out my first loop.  Once again, Chris was shaking his head because in true Amanda style, I went off course.  

THREE MORE LOOPS????  There was no way I could pull this off.  After changing my socks, I dragged my ass back out on the course.  One more loop and I could quit saying I at least did a 25k and live to see another day.  The second loop was rather uneventful.  I limped through it and met a really nice guy from Belton and decided that day of all days was a good day to hike at Cleburne.  At least he was a trail runner in his previous life and appreciated our sufferfest.  Our conversation helped distract me from the pain from Death Hill because I had someone to commiserate with.  He ended up splitting off to go to his car about a mile out from the start line.  I crossed the mat in good spirits hemming and hawing over my next steps (no pun intended).  After changing my shoes and dawdling more than I should, Chris made sure I went out for my third loop.

As the course cleared out and the only people left were 50k and 50 mile runners, it grew quiet and I began to notice things.  The hills seemed way steeper going both up and down and at some point I came across a hill that I can only describe as "up hill, both ways" like our parents used to say about going to school when we complained about something as kids.  It also reminded me of that scene from Twister where a cow flies across the car and another cow flew in the other direction except it was, "Hill.  Another hill.  I think that's the same hill" and it was.  

I also honed in my amateur boxing skills bobbing and weaving around creepy mini-caterpillars hanging from the trees.  Brent Heady ran passed me and compared them to Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  The highlights of that loop included the bluebonnet fields and Chad passing me only stopping for a quick selfie.  He was on his final loop as I was crawling through my third.  

Outside of those, I wasn't paying attention and ate one of those caterpillars.  Is it protein?  That has yet to be decided.  When I reached my arch nemesis, I reminded myself only one more time.  Back to the start.

Do I head out for that last loop?  It would be dark about halfway through and did I really want to deal with that knowing the terrain?  I changed my socks again.  Chris reminded me I had only one left.  Rob said he would warm up my medal for me.  Le sigh.  I started back out.  By then most 50kers were done, so it was just me and the 50 milers.  Two of them passed by and I asked them what day it was.  I seriously started singing, "All By Myselffffff".  Thankfully my SRTT girls were at the 3.5 mile aid station with quesadillas and good conversation.  I really wanted to hang out more because I was so lonely at that point, but one foot in front of the other.  Only three miles until my last encounter with Death disguised as limestone.  I started seeing things that weren't really there and broke out in song with R.E.M's Everybody Hurts except changing the lyrics to Everyyyything Hurts.  At that point I was in pain so much that I knew it couldn't get any worse.  It sounded like rain sprinkles, but no rain.  Dear Lord.  Was that caterpillars falling from the trees????  It was dark by then and I couldn't see anything except what was right in front of me and then there it was.  The hill.  I muttered, "One last time, bitch."  

Up I went and then it was done.  A mile and a half to go.  Half a mile into this last stretch, it started raining and it was the end of any hint of pace.  I was stumbling and sliding over rocks and moving at maybe one mile an hour, careful of each step.  I heard the generator at the finish close and then far away, close and then far away.  It was like the end was laughing at me.  Up and down I went counting the three hills I had to go over before I saw The Bridge.  The bridge indicated I was close.  I swear Rob moved the bridge further and further away for that loop and laughing because it took forever to get there.  As I was nearing the end, two fifty milers passed me and I decided to shuffle across the finish line.  It was done.  I did it.  I'm back - just a little slower.  

Next year I'm signing up for the four mile fun run instead.