Deciding to do the 100K at Bandera seemed pretty risky; after all, I had trouble with the Sunmart 50 miler in Huntsville, TX, the month before (December, 2002) and so after DNFing that race, I had signed up for the 50K. But I trained for Sunmart so I had a great base going for me, and so what if I had a bad race morning in Huntsville. The belt buckle was what I was after, and, man, did that buckle look sweet! It's oval shaped with 'Bandera' across the top, '100K' on the bottom, and the race logo, a running letter 'K' with a cowboy hat on, in the middle. So I switched from the 50K to the 100K.

I decided to camp out at the Hill Country State Natural Area, the park where the race is held. I knew that this was going to be a long 'walk' in the park (was thinking 16-18 hours minimum) and I couldn't see myself paying for a hotel room that I might be spending only a few hours in. And besides, it would be so cool to wake up on race morning and be right there at the race start. And cool it was with temperatures probably down into the mid to lower 30s but my sleeping bag kept warm and shiver-free.

7:30am start- It's a chilly morning. Normally I would start off running in a pair of shorts, knowing that I would eventually warm-up but instead I opted for long tights, not just for the cold but also for the Texas Sotol, a bush-like cactus plant with sharp points and edges, that were everywhere, and in some cases unavoidable. And we're off! Running a little fast to warm-up, but knowing that soon we'll be into the hills and then start to run-walk, run the flats & down hills and walk the uphills, I let it slide. Once into the hills, I start snapping some photos of the landscape. After 5 or 6 miles, I catch up with Robert & Diana Heynen, Gayla Harris, and Steve Williams, and we mostly stayed together for the majority of the first loop (two 50K, 31 mile, loops for the 100K). Between 10 and 15 miles, it started to rain. Not too heavy, not too light neither, and it would continue for the most of the d! uration, with a few brief periods of cessation. By mile 20, my long sleeve cool-max shirt was soaked and the wind-chill factor made me pull out my poncho, more like a garbage bag with holes cut out for the arms and face. Finished the the first loop solo, in 8 hours and 12 minutes. Had to walk the last few miles in, in order to ensure that I could make it out for my second loop.

Stopping by my tent, which was near the Start/Finish line, I dropped off my poncho and grabbed a jacket, cause once the Sun went down , so would the temps. Then I ran over to the big tent by the Start/Finish line for some chow and to sit in front of the portable heater. Normally, the idea of eating a burger in the middle of a run wouldn't even occur to me, let alone sound desirable, but this was no ordinary run. I needed something in my system other than the potatoes and peanut butter & jelly wedges that were at the aid stations. I finished my burger, topped off my water bottle, and off I went on my second loop.

Went out about a half-mile when I realized that I forgot my flashlight. After a minute of cursing myself and debating whether or not I should go back and get it, I turned back and sprinted to the Start line (actually, I cut-off a little on the way back, running behind the big tent, to my tent. Must of freaked out the guys doing the Finish line results and photos when I ran by them again, saying "I forgot my flashlight!"). It would be getting dark soon and there was no way I could finish without my trusty 4-LED flashlight. Just before the first aid station I caught up with a couple of runners, Pete Cahill of Houston and Deborah Sexton of Dallas, and we stuck together for most of the rest of the second loop. And repeatedly we would run across another runner, fellow HCTR member Doug Gimenez, who would disappear, reappear, disappear, reappear... I wasn't sure if he was slowing down and we were catching up, or vise versa. By! the time I reached the next to last aid station, I had slowed considerably and had started to feel the affects of the cold, rain, and time on my feet, about 18 plus hours at that point. But I reassured aid station volunteer Chris Chandler that I was fine and that I was going to make it. With just 7 miles to go there was no way I was going to stop now.

Somewhere in the next few miles, when the ribbon and glow sticks ran out, I knew I missed a trail connection or turn. I tried back-tracking but my sleep-deprived brain just couldn't find the missed connection. I was soaked head to toe, freezing cold, couldn't stop shivering, and I wanted to be warm and dry. I had just crossed a park road that I knew would take me to the Finish line, but, having gone this far, was I ready to give up? Was I willing to spend another hour and a half to two hours on this trail in the freezing cold? No. I had put in my time and miles at Bandera and I didn't need a piece of medal (or pewter or whatever) to prove my mettle. I found my way back to the park road and started towards the Finish line. As I reached the finish, heading in the opposite direction that the finishers off the trail came in, I see a flashlight running down to greet me. It was the race director, Joe Pr! usaitis. "who's that," he asks. "Kelly," was my response as I shone my flashlight on my face.

I was then led to the big tent where I recieved first class treatment. I was helped out of my soaked jacket, gloves, shoes and socks, given some coffee, and sat down in front of the heater to warm up. After a while I went into the group lodge, a small house that served as the race headquaters, to shower and was invited to spend the rest of the morning inside.

My Bandera unofficial results (or, rather, my best guess) : 58 to 59 miles in 20 to 21 hours.

Will I do Bandera in 2004? You bet! I heard that Joe will save the buckes for those who dropped out of this years race for next year.

Viva la Bandera!

Kelly Galloway

"There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing." - Ben Zander, according to aspiring ultrarunner Sophia Lewis