My first trail run was nothing like what I expected. Clea presented me with the idea of doing a trail run for our next girls’ trip. Since I had heard great things about trail races and Bandera in particular, I agreed that it sounded like fun. Even better, I thought, was that there was a 25K option, which meant little or no training for me and none of the pre-marathon jitters. I was in for a weekend full of surprises… Our first unexpected event was Clea’s bout with suspected food poisoning. After a distressed phone call with Clea Thursday evening, I figured the race was off. I should have known that she wouldn’t let a little food poisoning get her down. After work, I picked up Clea (who was in extreme calorie deficit mode), and we were off on our slow crawl through rush hour traffic and rain to our Bandera adventure. Despite the traffic, weather, and darkness, the drive to Bandera was relatively relaxing. Not knowing what pain was awaiting me the next day, I was completely relaxed. We ate at Outback Steakhouse (my first meal there since college) and later stopped for ice cream at Sonic. Upon our arrival in Bandera, we found ourselves in an overly-priced hotel room, surrounded by a forest full of air-brushed deer. At least it was quiet. We both slept well. Saturday morning was as gloomy as Friday night had been, and, although it had rained during the night, it seemed to have cleared, at least temporarily. After another treacherous drive on narrow, dark roads, we arrived in the state park to find a muddy start line. Around 7:25, we realized we were waiting at the wrong muddy start line (for the 100K). While we were still heading over to the 25K/50K start, we heard the horn blow to signal the start of the race. Both of us started at the back of our respective packs, which brings me to my list of trail running lessons learned: Know where the starting line is and start as close to the front of the pack as possible. In a road race, starting at the back of the pack can slow a runner down as he attempts to weave in and out of the other runners. In a trail run, starting at the back of the pack can completely ruin a run (if you’re trying to finish in a certain time, that is). I wasn’t interested in running quickly, but I was interested in running. Because I started at the back, I had no choice but to follow the pace of the 20-person single file line of people in front of me. For about 1.5 miles, there was no realistic opportunity to pass anyone. As I ambled along, I wondered why, why, why was I doing this, and how could anyone enjoy trail running?? Wear tights or high socks. You see the cacti across your path but, given the narrow trail and the other runners, you are forced to clench your teeth and plow through them. My legs are in shreds. Train on similar terrain, or, more simply, train. Since this was only a 25K, I figured no training was necessary. The terrain turned out to be something between the Austin greenbelt and the rainforest terrain in Costa Rica. How difficult could it be, you ask? For a little perspective, I am reminded that I finished my last marathon (26.2 miles) in 3 hours 38 minutes. At the end, I felt pretty good. I finished my 15-mile Bandera trail run around 3 hours 10 minutes. At the end, I felt like death. By about mile 11, I could barely pick my legs up enough to avoid falling on the rocks and mud. The downhill stretches were the worst. I’m lucky to have avoided major injury. Check the weather before running and consider alternate activities, as appropriate. Okay, so there’s nothing I could have done about the weather, but, had I known how horrible the weather conditions were, I might have considered sleeping in. The rain the previous night had created a muddy mess. Thus, the flat stretches that would normally allow leg recovery, became some of the hardest stretches in the run. The accumulated mud on the bottom of my shoes felt like 10-pound weights. At some points, I though I might lose my shoes in the mud. In addition, although a cold front was on its way, it wasn’t scheduled to arrive until after my expected finish. The weather in front of the cold front was hot and muggy. Fortunately, on Clea’s advice, I was wearing a camel back. Otherwise, I might still be lying on the trail somewhere, especially as the first real aid station was around mile 10, and it took me over two hours to get there. Despite learning a few difficult lessons the hard way, the overall experience was nice. I met some new people, ate some good food (guilt-free!), visited a different area of Texas, enjoyed the beautiful scenery (which would have been more beautiful absent the mist and fog), and, most importantly, cheered a friend on as she crossed the finish line. During my 3 hours and 10 minutes of misery, I swore that I would never run another trail run. “You always say that,” Travis says. As he suspects, he may find me planning another one soon…