Wildhorse Half Marathon, Dover, Florida

A little mud just makes everything better, right?!?

As part of my training and to attempt to fulfill my goal of 16 half-marathons for the year, I ran - as well as hiked, climbed and scaled - the Wildhorse Half Marathon. I needed 18 miles for the day, so I ran 5 miles in my neighborhood at home before driving about 30 minutes to the race site. Although this weekend was soccer-free (a rarity in the world of competitive youth soccer), I somehow still ended up at the soccer fields where my teenaged son normally practices. Go figure.

In the time between my 5 home miles and the race start at 8:00, I fueled up with some frozen waffles (expertly toasted) with butter and three slices of bacon. This is of course because bacon or running, or bacon AND running, can pretty much cure anything that ails you. The race began with an actual line drawn in the sand and an airhorn. Then we were off. First, we circled the football fields and then the soccer fields before heading into the woods.

Just before the completion of mile 1, we had to scale down into a gully and cross through some water. Only 12 more miles with wet feet! Yea!!!

Most of the race was on wide, open trail. A small, recent cold front dropped our temperatures into the low 70s for the first part of the morning. Even on the parts of trail out in the open, it was warm but pleasant.

There was a beautiful section where these tall red flowers were blooming, 8-10 feet high at least. They lined the trail for awhile. I’m not sure what they are, who knows if maybe they are invasive to the area, but they sure were pretty.

The organizers of this race really love combining the existing trails along with randomly selecting a route through the woods. It seems to be a bit of a theme with all the races they put together. You kind of feel like Hansel and Gretel out there, following the orange tape “breadcrumbs” they’ve left behind. You just keep following the orange tape and orange flags.

On the bright side, I did not trip, fall, or otherwise get sabotaged by my street feet and toe a root or other obstacle. In fact, I felt pretty good throughout. I told myself to treat this like training, not a race. I ignored the people who passed me in the beginning and stuck to a relaxed pace. I stopped to take pictures, leisurely drank some fluids at the aid stations, and hiked or walked in places that had more challenging terrain.

I made an attempt to video a few spots of the course. I say “course” quite loosely here. But, I don’t yet have a cool GoPro so it’s just a shaky iPhone video. The videos look more like I’m a fugitive, escaping the authorities. Maybe after lifting some applewood smoked bacon from the grocery store…

Within the 13 miles of race, we covered one section in the middle, twice. It included a little pirate action. You had to “walk the plank” to get across, or walk through the water. Or if you’re Jesus then walk ON water. Those were your only options.

Here’s one last shaky video. It’s about 4 minutes long, so if your vertigo doesn’t kick in you might just make it to the end. I’m really hoping that Santa Claus brings me a GoPro for Christmas. I have been a very good girl this year.

This is one of two ropes that we used to scale INTO the gully at the beginning of the race. And would ya lookey there, it’s still waiting for me 11 miles later!

Now, the first mile of the race was out on open grass near the fence lines or through the dirt parking lot around the ball fields. When I scrambled back up out of the gully I expected that I would return the same way I had come. Nope. The course designer so kindly decided that the last mile should weave through the woods adjacent to the ball fields even more erratically than on any other part of the course. AND we should scale another section even steeper than all the others before. Oh look. Another rope. How sweet…at 12.5 miles.

Since I was feeling quite good despite having covered 17.5 miles already that day, I was able to make quick work of that climb and worm my way out of the woods and back onto the the open grass. As I crossed the finish line, the man waiting there asked me how many miles I had done. I said, “You mean in the race or today?” He said, “Today.” I told him that I’d run 5 before coming to the race and then completed the half. He was so impressed he offered me the choice of a fancy cup from the race in 2014 or the standard finisher hat for this year. I usually only wear visors so I went with the cup. Nothing a Sharpie can’t fix.

After collecting my you’re-so-awesome-you-deserve-a-cup cup, I completed my scoring card and dropped it in the bucket. Some of these small trail races are hand scored. There are no timing chips, no fancy mat to cross. Just a guy with a ticker tape timer who enters your bib number as you cross.

And with that, my runs were done for the day. I refilled my bottle with Gatorade and grabbed an orange for the road. I finished my first 5 miles at a 10:32 pace today, so that glaring 3:08 finish time for a half didn't even ruffle my feathers. I imagine the miles I covered today, although slow during the race, were actually good training. Two days from now the muscles I used for all that climbing - you know, the ones that I don’t normally use - are gonna let me know alllll about it.

I’ll need to hose out my shoes at some point, since the last trip through the creek only sloughed off the layer of mud on the outside. I’m back to the streets this week with some lighter training, then my first 20-miler of the cycle on Saturday. 60 days and counting until Squatch time.