Control the Controllables
Brazos Bend 100
The race started at 6 am, and it was already in the 80’s. “Okay,” I thought to myself, “you know what you are doing. What do you need to run in the heat?” I grabbed all the electrolytes and potassium I had. I was going to pop those suckers like M&M’s. Smart move.
I have done races where I don’t know a soul. I have done races that I’ve had to
travel. I’ve done races that I
have forgotten gear. Brazos Bend
100 was a type of Final Exam of Ultra Marathons, encompassing all of these
things and more.
I had this travel voucher, and I couldn’t wait to use
it. I wanted to find a race with
challenges unlike any I’ve faced before.
I found it with this race.
My first challenge was what gear to bring. Sorry tackle box, you wont make it on
the plane. I got up at 2:30 to
sneak in a workout and to pack. I
told myself to treat it like an aid station---grab what you need, and if your
instincts tell you to take something…listen. That is just what I did.
I arrived in Texas to a sunny 80-degree day and went to pick
up my rental car. They issued me a
lemon-yellow machine Not really my
style, but not really something to make a fuss about either. Okay bumblebee…let’s roll.
I took the
bumblebee and drove out to Brazos Bend for the pre-race meeting. I knew there would be weather and
wildlife. This meeting spelled out
exactly what to expect from both.
It got in my head. As
advice, the race director said, “when you think of weather, insert the word fun. And, oh my, we are gonna have some fun tomorrow!”
Normally the night before a 100 miler, I get
introspective. This was no
exception. Sitting in the
bumblebee, I made the conscious decision to control the controllables. I unpacked all my gear and laid it out
so that I could grab and go. I was
missing some things that would have made me more comfortable, but that was out
of my control. If I didn’t have
it, I didn’t need it. I was going
to work with what I had, and I was going to get this done.
The race started at 6 am, and it was already in the 80’s. “Okay,” I thought to myself, “you know what you are doing. What do you need to run in the heat?” I grabbed all the electrolytes and potassium I had. I was going to pop those suckers like M&M’s. Smart move.
The race started, and it just felt different from what I’ve
done before. It didn’t take long
to figure out why. It was dark
out, and I was running with a headlamp. Whenever I looked left or right, (I mean EVERY time) I saw eyes. I didn’t necessarily
know what critter those eyes belonged to, but wildlife was going to be a factor in this race. I
forced myself to remember that these animals are also out of my control. One of two things would happen. They would approach me, and I would
have to respond, or they would leave me alone. Let’s do this.
I decided to embrace the beauty of Texas. I stopped to take a picture of the
sunrise. I was contemplating
calling this piece “Three Sunrises” to encompass my trip. A cougar running in front of me changed
my mind. Control the
controllables. I must have
repeated that 100 times.
The course was a nearly 17-mile loop that I would run 6
times. Don’t bother doing the
math, I already had, it’s over 100.
It was basically set up as a figure 8. The first half of the 8 was swampland. It smelled and was muddy. As the race went on the mud grew
torturous. It was also the area
where alligators, rattlesnakes and more kinds of lizards than I knew existed, roamed. I grew to dread those 8
miles. It took absolute focus to
navigate, and I’m proud to say I remained upright for the entire race. Most were not so fortunate. The second half of the figure 8 was
still muddy, but much more navigable.
However, this is the area where wild hogs roamed. Truly ugly creatures, that made me
question why people like bacon so much.
The weather was…fun.
It was like it was on a repeat cycle. Over and over again, it did the
same thing. The temp would
climb. My clothes would stick to
me from the humidity. A powerful
wind would kick up out of nowhere.
It would rain. Hard. It would stop as quickly as it started. Repeat
every half hour.
I made the conscious decision to own the night. I turned off my phone. I left my headlamp in the
bumblebee. I grabbed my knuckle
lights. I would run with one light
at a time. I only wanted to see
the three-foot orb in front of me.
I KNEW those eyes were on me.
I could hear (and in one case, see) animal attacks. I had over 12 hours of darkness to face and
I wanted no distractions.
The heat did not relent, and my water consumption was
high. This increased my nature
calls. I turn my light off to
execute this maneuver. Turning it back on, I caught sight of a rattlesnake.
Not an unhappy one, but there it was. Yikes!
Finally, I reached the final aid station. I had three miles to go. I only had one alligator area yet to
cross, and felt as if I was out of harm’s way. It looked like I would finish a little over 26 hours. Whew…I could relax.
Mother Nature decided, that I was getting a little ahead of
myself. The sky OPENED UP and
there was COLD rain. I knew the
pitch of the last three miles, and with the steady rain we had, the trail was
going to wash out. I was not
happy. I had two choices: I could
find somewhere to wait it out (although this did not seem like the wait it out
kind of rain) or I could get moving.
Control the controllables.
I told myself that if I moved, I could be in the bumblebee, with my
buckle, in less than an hour. I
would get wet and cold, but both of those could be remedied. Okay feet---take over and get me to the
finish.
It was not easy.
Branches from trees were falling left and right. The muddy water was up over my
shoes. The puddles had a
current. A big tree came down. I turned off my brain, and trusted that
my body would take solid steps to keep me making relentless forward progress. I ran those three miles simply on
instincts.
I finished. It
was unceremonious, as all of the campers had torn down because of the storm. The race director handed me my buckle
and got me to my car under an umbrella. Through shivering teeth, I told him he might need to re-think that weather is fun thing. His reply was simple, “Nah
darlin’, this is just how we do it in Texas”.
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