So … we appear to be committed to long, painful runs that result in exhaustion, days of soreness, and spending lots of money for a t-shirt, a big clunky medal, and a few pictures we manage to catch along the way.  Figuring that we’ve seen and pounded enough miles of pavement, we decided to branch out.  Trail runs seem to happen on more frequently on Sundays which makes schedules a bit easier, but to offset that, it’s always a good idea to pick one that is at least 5 hours away – convenience is not a watchword we adhere to.  Hence, the LSRC (Lone Star Runner’s Club) Palo Duro Canyon Spring Half – 13-point-something miles in the bottom of Palo Duro Canyon State Park.  The club also hosts the Palo Duro Trail Run in the fall each year, but getting both of us there on a Saturday has proved tough.  One of us walked the 20K (12.2 miles or so) two years ago, and ran (well, jogged) it last fall.  While not a walk in the park (sound effect here for bad pun), it seemed like a do-able half marathon.  Ummm, yeah.

Saturday 2016 04 23

The trip started off Saturday evening, hoping to make it to Canyon by midnight to get a few hours of sleep.  Hurrying to get out of town, we skipped dinner, but wound up stopping in Wichita Falls for a taco and a beverage.  Myopic Bob was our bartender – after regaling us with tales of his hiring to “open the full-service bar” and being fired from other restaurants, he first threw a drink across the bar, and then somehow decided that grilled shrimp and shredded chicken sounded like a good idea in a quesadilla.  We eventually escaped and headed north.  As usual, we underestimated travel and arrived at the hotel pretty well exhausted just before 1:00am.  We fell asleep dreading the early morning alarm, with the slight consolation that we were only 15-20 minutes from the starting line.  This bit of planning is something we’ve been better about – after having to get up and drive an hour prior to the Dallas Marathon last fall, we managed to put ourselves about 10 blocks away at the Cowtown, and in an apartment looking over the start line for the Austin 10/20.  Unfortunately to get that close to the trail run start would have involved sleeping in a campground bathroom.

Sunday 2016 04 24

The alarm went off about 12 hours too early after the late bedtime.  Somehow, we were able to remove selves from the one-step-up-from-prison-bunk (but still better than getting up) hotel bed and made our way down the canyon, where the sun was just rising.   Palo Duro is a pretty impressive hole in the ground, and sunrise is a nice time to be there:

This pavilion is a new (and welcome) installation in the park, replacing some ancient porta potties.

Preparing to run while barely awake.  Note the nearly non-existent shoes on the right-hand runner – that’s a decision he may live to regret:

The woman in the white shirt is responsible for us even knowing about this run, and therefore will be blamed for any cactus attacks or bleeding:

The run started promptly at 8AM after a quick pep talk / warning about the run, noting that the trail had a few hills, was not really marked, and there were only three places to stop for water.  GO!

Yeah, that’s a 4/10^th of a mile loop through a parking lot – not sure why but guessing it was required to bump the mileage up to the advertised 13.1.  After a quick turn across the asphalt, it was time to get down to business.  Here’s the thing about trail running: there’s no room to pass.  The first four miles or so runners are forced to trot along in a single file line, looking kind of like this:

If one does opt to pass, you must shout “on your left” and sprint past a few runners while attempting to avoid sticking your foot in a cactus, running through the two-inch thorns on the mesquite trees, or losing a foot to a rock or gopher hole:

We fought through the inconvenience for several miles, but things started to open up letting us find some peace and quiet at about mile five.  The view before we started the uphill battle:

We had to head downhill to get here, with a short jog along a surprisingly full creek.  We weren’t really thinking about where the trail was going at this point, as it was a cool, dry morning – perfect running weather:

The chilly morning quickly turned into an eighty-five degree day.  Removing extra layers of course leads to complications when running – try doing it while running up and down trails covered in loose rocks with headphone wires tangled in your sleeve unfortunately leads to stopping.  Stopping leads to being passed by those same people you bounded by 200 yards ago.  Being bounded by leads to frustration and fires up the competitive need to be in front of everyone else.  And so it goes.

Water stops along the trail were much appreciated:

Beautiful place – the problem with the beauty is the internal conflict of whether or not to stop and take a picture.  It’s more complicated that it sounds.  For starters, trail running requires extreme concentration.  At any moment, a rock or a small tree stump could appear on the trail and grab a shoe.  While it is tempting to enjoy the scenery along the way, it’s more intelligent to focus your eyes on the trail in front of you.  Taking a picture or video while running increases percentage of tumbling into oblivion or a cactus by 95%.  There’s also the option to stop and take a picture.  To do this, trail runner must detach phone from headphone and armband, swipe to use camera with a sweaty finger, and click.  While trail runner is adjusting and readjusting gear, other runners are quickly passing by and ensuring more miles of getting stuck behind a slow runner.  Or worse, the uphill walker.  Sometimes, photography attempts seemed successful while producing this:

Other times, it was necessary to stop.  Taken while a group of other runners slowly ran by:

About five miles in, the pack loosened up, allowing a little more running and less trotting behind a row of people.  Unfortunately, just like driving down urban highways, all it takes is one person who can’t quite get it in gear to cause a traffic jam.  Hitting the first of a lot of climbing didn’t help.  At this point, the faster member of our group had enough with tailing behind others and took off after a pair of runners shouting “LEFT” every 5 seconds as they scrambled uphill.  The slower members of our group considered acceleration, but thought about the next seven miles between the hills and the finish line.  He waved goodbye to the departing sprinter:

Separating from the pack makes for a more relaxing time when trying to focus on not falling off a cliff or tumbling into a creek bed covered in sharp rocks.  While solitude is preferred, it’s also unnerving at times.  With no other runners in sight, it’s easy to question whether you’re still on the actual course, or if you’re inadvertently wandering into the Palo Duro death zone where water is scarce and lost trail runners, after suffering the unthinkable fate of losing place in line, are eaten by uncivilized canyon animals.  Periodic signs showing trail names were reassuring if not 100% confirmation of correct pathing …

A runner disappearing ahead of the slow guy in the pack:

In an attempt to maintain place in line, trail runner can put phone in selfie mode and attempt to capture surroundings through the armband.  Result:

Stopping again, got a better view:

Thirteen miles of pounding feet onto a hard dirt trail up and down hills covered with rocks is a long, difficult battle.  Having run several half marathons on pavement does not prepare you mentally or physcially for the challenge – having to pay attention to every step in a 13 mile journey is taxing to say the least.  The natural beauty around you eventually fades around mile 10 as your focus tightens in on the next three steps.  It doesn’t make things better when inaccurate tracking device advises runner that they’ve reached the 13 mile mark only to discover there’s still 0.75 miles to go.  Longest 0.75 mile ever.

Finally reached finish line, collapsed into grass and immediately realized grass in Amarillo hates people.  One non-native Amarillo-an spent some time picking prickly things out of their hands:

The non-sprinter managed to wander in at the 2:33 mark, feeling like he’d been mauled by a bobcat and a mule deer in the same bar fight.  Too tired to even eat, we managed to drink a lot of Gatorade-flavored water and even some regular water, staring at swollen feet and red clay dust caked up to our knees and beyond.

Overall results are here, demonstrating that this was a pretty tough run, with even the 16 year old barely getting in under 2 hours:

LSRC 2016 Palo Duro Canyon Spring Half Results (PDF)

The instigator of this madness showed up despite having spent the prior 36 hours battling a hardcore case of the influenza, dehydrated, probably missing a few pounds of bodyweight, and barely recovered from fever.  She *still* made it across the line in under 3 hours (2:49), although she was not happy about it:

Having survived, we of course immediately had to pack up and drive as fast as possible home to attend a late soccer and softball game session.  We did have time to stop for a few pictures from the canyon rim, a little easier to take when not running, dodging rocks and cactus, or worrying about being passed:

All sarcasm and complaints aside, Palo Duro Canyon is a beautiful place.  Nice run.  We’ll be back.