Bandera 100k + 50k 2021

Note: This Race Report was originally composed in February of 2021.

Prologue

In the summer of 2019 Tejas Trails announced that the Bandera Endurance Trail Run would be split up into 2 days to accommodate the large number of participants and reduce the number of runners on the trails at the same time.  The popular event regularly drew large crowds due to its status as a Western States Golden Ticket Race and Qualifier as well as the USATF 100k National Championships.  Changing the schedule kept the 100k on Saturday and moved the 50k and 25k events to Sunday.

The beautiful course, well organized logistics and exciting atmosphere generated by the presence of elites seeking a Golden Ticket has made Bandera one of my every-year-until-I-die races. Tejas Trails recognizes long-time repeat runners by awarding a "500k" sweatshirt to those who have run 500 total kilometers at Bandera and a "1000k" jacket when they reach that level.  These totals can be accrued by any combination of years and race distances.

Since I am obviously planning on earning my 1000k jacket by running Bandera every year in perpetuity I quickly realized that a person could take advantage of the new schedule to accrue more than 100k per year.  Thus, I hatched a plan to run 150k at Bandera 2021.  Now I would describe myself as a mid-packer, capable of running a 100k in 16-17 hours on an average day. This means that I could run 100k on Saturday and then have 7-8 hours to shower, eat, sleep and otherwise recover before toeing the line for 50k on Sunday.  To maximize the time and effectiveness of this rest period I rented an RV trailer for the race weekend, giving me a place to take a hot shower, heat up a warm meal and sleep in a warm bed within 100 yards of the start line for the race (close-in RV camping is another awesome aspect of this race).

Friday

I arrived early Friday afternoon and set up "camp."  I was momentarily panicked when the pull cord on my rented generator broke when I went to start it, but a borrowed tool kit from a friendly RV neighbor had me back in business in no time.  Packet pickup was efficient as usual, with volunteers and racers respectfully distancing in line and wearing masks.  I'll admit I relished in the moment when the volunteer typed in my name and said that I must have made a mistake and registered for both the 100k and 50k.  My mask hid the shit-eating grin I was surely sporting when I enthusiastically confirmed that I was running both races on purpose. Enjoying the wide-eyed response that answer provoked, I happily picked up my numbers and shirts and headed back to my camper, running into some of my Trail Fools friends who were trying to figure out how to drive to Chapas aid station to drop off their drop bags.  I told them the route, then grabbed my own drop "bags" (Homer Buckets for the win) and made the rounds to the aid stations myself.

I enjoyed a dinner of Chipotle I had picked up on the way in and laid out my race gear for the next morning.  I knew the weather for Sunday was going to be colder and wetter than Saturday, so I saved my warmest gear for then.  This meant digging deep into the closet to find an old Under Armour compression shirt from high school to use as a base layer.  I had placed long sleeve shirts in each of my drop buckets and planned to add or remove layers as needed throughout the day.  Saturday was forecast to be around freezing at the start, getting up into the 50s at the high and then back down into the 30s, so not terribly cold but enough that I needed to plan for it.

Confident I was ready for race day, I had a beer and watched a couple episodes of The Mandalorian I had downloaded to my phone before passing out.

Saturday

Due to COVID, Tejas Trails set up several start windows and encouraged people to start in small groups to avoid bunching up on the trail.  The course at Bandera is a 50k lollipop-style loop where the "stick" is about half a mile on a jeep road before jumping onto single track.  With 500 runners starting at once this usually resulted in a bottle neck and some walking in the first mile or so, which obviously needed to be mitigated to be COVID-safe.  The start windows began at 6:30 AM, an hour before the typical race start.  Saturday morning I got up early, had my coffee and eggs and bacon and headed to the start line right at about 6:30.  Right as I was about to head out on the course I felt the "rumble" and realized that the bacon and eggs and coffee (and Chipotle) had done their job, so I took advantage of this rare opportunity and "lightened the load" before crossing the start line, allowing me to avoid taking time to do so while the clock was running.  

It was eerie heading out on the course by myself in the dark at Bandera.  This being my fifth year at the event I had gotten used to the electric atmosphere of the start line when you might find yourself a few feet away from legends like Gorgy Ainsleigh, Jim Walmsley, Billy Yang or Dave Mackie.  It was odd running those first few miles alone in the dark, but I felt strong.  Since I was going to be running 150k total over ~36 hours I was pacing as if it were a 100 miler.  I had my vest with a 2L bladder for water and a 20 oz handheld in a front pocket for "fuel".  My fuel is normally Gatorade (since Tailwind tears up my stomach), but at the start my fuel bottle was full of black coffee.  I had been a little rushed at the start of the Tinajas 100k the month before and had not finished my coffee, so I figured "fuck it" and just dumped it in my fuel bottle before I started.  It actually worked out well to sip on ever more tepid coffee for the first few miles, so I've incorporated it into my race routine.

Ascending the first climb of Bandera as the sun was rising was magical.  A deep purple glow gradually transitioned to a fiery orange red as the rugged rolling hills began to come into relief in the cold dawn.  I considered stopping to take a photo, but decided not to since I'm usually the one to make fun of non-Texans for doing that on this course.  I'll admit now that I wished I had. 

Near the top of the first hill I ran into my friend Nancy.  Nancy talks even more than I do on the trail.  She runs with bells on her shoes to alert mountain bikers (and more importantly, to annoy Joe Prusaitis).  We got to chatting and she told me she had marked this section of trail for the race, and that she had found a doll and decided to write an inspiring message on it's forehead and hang it from a tree along the trail.  She told me to look for a dead tree with rocks hanging from the branches.  I honestly didn't really understand what she was talking about but I told her that I would.  In the course of our conversation I mentioned that I was doing the 100k and 50k and she said I was crazy.  I countered that she had no right to call me crazy.  You see, Tejas Trails has added a 150 mile distance option to the Cactus Rose 100 and a 150k option to the Tinajas 100k in the last year.  Nancy is the only person to have done either of these races.  She also runs a technical 27 mile loop around a lake near Austin every weekend that she isn't doing another ultra and has been known to run 100 milers on back to back weekends.  We have a saying in Texas: "At any trail race you run in there is always someone there who is crazier than you.  That person's name is Nancy Marks."

I yoyo'ed with Nancy for the first couple of aid stations before pulling away.  I was still feeling good but having trouble staying warm.  It was dawning on me that the Under Armour shirt I was wearing was actually "Heat Gear", designed to keep you cool despite being long sleeved.  I was planning on finishing in 16-17 hours, or averaging around a 16 minute mile, to save some energy for the 50k the next day.  However, forcing myself to slow down to this pace caused me to get chilled.  I let myself go a little faster to stay warm, but still made a conscious effort not to push too hard.

I finished the first loop in about 6:50 and grabbed some food and gatorade out of my finish line drop bag.  I also ran into my friend Steph who I hadn't seen in over a year due to the pandemic.  We chatted and she told me she was there to pace a friend from Florida for the 2nd loop.  I was out on the 2nd loop before the time turned over to 7:00.  This was still faster than usual, as my typical first loop at Bandera was around 7:15 to 7:30.  I continued on at a steady pace but became more and more aware that I was moving much faster than I wanted to.  By the time I hit the Nachos aid station halfway through the loop it was starting to get cooler and I added another layer.  Somewhere between there and Chapas I stopped to put some Trail Toes on a hotspot on my heel I should have addressed much sooner.  Right as I was coming into Chapas, Steph and her friend caught up to me.  We chatted a bit as we got our food and continued on the course.  Side note: when I went through Chapas on the first loop I had them fill my collapsible cup with Ramen broth while I filled my other hand with oreos and pringles.  Then I realized they had bacon and sausage.  With nowhere else to carry it (and not wanting to waste time standing around eating in the aid station) I had them just put the meat in the broth.  OMG.  Game changer.  Bacon Kielbasa flavored chicken Ramen broth might be the greatest thing I've ever had during an ultra, followed closely by softened chicken Ramen flavored bacon and Kielbasa.  10/10, would recommend.

Upon leaving Chapas I realized that I was dead-on pace to match my Bandera PR of 14:49, despite having planned for a 16:30.  I still felt strong though and also wanted to keep up with Steph and her runner to catch up and just generally run with someone.  Chapas is about 10 miles out from the finish, and those 10 miles were some of the flattest most runnable trails in the course, save for Lucky Peak at the end.  I decided then that if I had come this far at this pace then my legs were probably as wrecked as they were gonna get, so I might as well keep it up and finish earlier to get more sleep before the next race.  I flew through the course running 95% of the way, only walking up and over Lucky.  Lucky is infamous among Bandera runners for being brutally hands-and-knees steep and technical, both going up the front and coming down the back.  In fact last year someone actually slipped and fell going down the back and had a compound fracture of her ankle.  The flipside is that it is short, less than a third of a mile up and down, and there's only a mile of gently downhill jeep road after it, setting you up for a fast finish.

I ended up coming in around 14:43, a 6 minute PR.  The faster than expected finish coupled with an starting an hour earlier than usual resulted in allowing for almost 10 hours before I would need to toe the line for the 50k.  I returned to my RV, showered, heated up some homemade green chile stew and settled in with some ibuprofen and an episode of The Mandalorian before passing out.

Sunday

I slept rather well for just having run a 100k PR, waking up only a couple times to pee, telling me my hydration game had been on point. (No haul-my-ass-out-of-Dot's on this one!)  Unfortunately my peaceful slumber was aided by the sound of soft rain on the roof throughout the night, which is great for a restful night but terrible for running another loop the next day.  My legs were definitely sore as I approached the start line, but I was 100% ok with just walking for the first couple of miles until I was loosened up enough to run.  Unfortunately even walking was a challenge, as the jeep road section leading to the loop was already a grimpen mire and it was barely 8 AM.  My shoes were already caked with 10 pounds of sticky mud each before I had gone a quarter mile.  This was going to be a long day.

Luckily my experience of this course reminded me that the single track sections were mostly on hard rocky surfaces and less likely to be muddy.  Also in my favor was my gear: an Under Armour base layer that was actually designed to keep you warm in the cold and an Arcteryx rain jacket that I'm glad I splurged on.  Overall the first half of the loop was not terrible.  The rocky trails were wet and my shoes were completely soaked, but most of the heavier mud let go once I was out of the jeep road areas.  The rain transitioned back and forth to sleet before finally letting up when I hit Ice Cream hill.  Ice Cream isn't quite as steep as Lucky but is longer and just as technical, and comes right after The Sisters, a set of 3 hills that will definitely beat on your quads, calves and glutes, especially if you are 75 miles into a 93 mile weekend.  Still, I motored through the Sisters, even passing people as I approached Ice Cream.  As I started the climb, I noticed it had stopped raining.  At this point my spirits greatly improved. I was warm, I was almost halfway through my third and final loop, and I had completed almost all of the steep climbs.  I was just marveling to myself that while I may not be a fast runner, I was good at climbing hills, and never got passed during an ascent.  It was just then that a guy flew past me charging up the incline.  Well, shit.  To make matters worse, he was in cheap basketball shorts and a tee shirt, and his handheld water bottle was a disposable liter of Dasani that looked like he had grabbed it from the gas station on the way in.  This guy looks totally unprepared but just made me look like an asshole.  Ah well, he probably didn't run 100k yesterday.

I made it out of the hills and into the flats where the mud started to get worse, but navigable.  That is, until I got within a mile or so of Chapas.  There were several sections of the course through here that followed powerline cuts.  While not as smooth as some of the trails, these parts were flat enough to be runnable, if a bit rocky.  That was not the case today.  Holy shit.  The rain (which had started up again at this point) had loosened all the rocks, making it even harder to maintain footing since the boulders were now slilding around as much as I was.  I made it into Chapas and got myself the sausage ramen soup I had been looking forward to.  In a futile attempt to remove some of the mud I took off my shoes one by one and tried to dump them out, but really only just wasted time and got my hands all covered with mud.  Here I ran into my friend Romeo who had recently finished his first 100k at Tinajas but was struggling with the mud as well.  We hung together for a couple of miles before he ended up dropping back his pace.  Coming through the flat field section known as the Racetrack it was possible to avoid some of the mud by running in the tall grass along the trail.  This didn't offer too much of an advantage though, since the ground was less flat than the trail itself.  Nevertheless I definitely "smelled the barn" and chugged right through.  I blitzed through the last aid station at YaYa and made my approach to Lucky.  At this point I actually welcomed the steep climb on dry trail that woke up some muscles that hadn't had much to do and giving the ones that had been fighting the mud a rest.

The final mile of jeep road into the finish was heartbreaking.  What I had cruised through at a sub 9:00 pace at the end of the 100k was forcing me to struggle to maintain a 16:00 pace.  The mud was shin deep in most places.  Getting through the course was like post-holing in deep snow, except the snow is heavier, stickier and fills in after you pick up your feet.  I was pissed at the course at this point.  I had gone over 92 miles and just wanted to be.fucking.done.  I'm no stranger to those difficult times on the trail where you have to fight for every tenth of a mile.  You know what I'm talking about.  It's the middle of the night.  You've been running for hours.  It's hot.  The trail is just steep and technical enough that its forcing you to walk, when normally in training you'd be able to run it.  You look at your watch, note the distance, then force yourself to push through for 30 minutes or more without looking again.  When you finally do you see that you've only gone 0.04 mile.  Mother fucker.  Goddammit.  Fuck you, trail.  Well that's what it was like for this section, except it was cool, jeep road, downhill, and during the day.  That's how bad the mud was.

Finally after trudging through this endless last mile for about 3 and a half days I could hear the finish line.  I knew it was only a quarter of a mile away, but fully expected it to take me 6 years to get there. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.  Finally I rounded the last bend and crossed onto marginally drier ground.  I 'sprinted' into the finish at a time of 8:26.  This was actually right inline with my goal of 8-9 hours for the 50k.  However given how much faster I was able to run the 100k and how fresh my legs still felt at the start, I'm confident that if not for the mud I could have finished in about 7:45.  

Epilogue

I made my way back to the RV and cleaned up.  My legs were so caked in mud that I could not even see any skin between my shorts and my shoes.  Luckily the RV had an outdoor showerhead hose thingy that I was able to use to get the bulk of the mud off.  By the time I cleaned up and changed into dry clothes it was barely 5 PM, so I decided to just pack up and drive home that evening to sleep in my own bed.  By the time I had the trailer hooked up my drop bags from all but one of the aid stations had been returned to the start, and the last remaining one was along the road on the way out of the park, saving me the time to drive around and pick them all up.

One thing I forgot to mention was that I did manage to find Nancy's "creepy doll tree."