I got an unexpected invite to join a Ragnar relay team early Wednesday evening. It was a group of ladies who I am acquainted with through the San Antonio (Off) Roadrunners. We would each run three separate loops at McAllister Park on Saturday morning, totaling 15 miles. The mileage sounded good and it sounded fun. The team was named Virtually Grounded, which is fitting.

And it was! It marked the first time I ran with a group since March. I was nervous about being too slow for them but I ended up not being too far behind, which was a confidence-booster.

By the time we finished, my legs were throbbing but it was a good kind of pain. And I got to add a new type of race to my running resume.

Running has been pretty good, except that the weather has remained hot and humid.

I bailed on doing the in-person race, The Trailway, on Saturday because I wasn't feeling 100% and I had a bunch of grading to finish.

Saturday, I ran 6 and it felt great: it was cool-ish, but very humid. Nonetheless, my pace was slow and steady.

Sunday, it got hotter and more humid, just in time for me to finish my virtual half.

Normally, half marathons aren't a super-big deal. But this one led me to question myself about some of my upcoming races.

Orly and Kathy Montalvo came up for a visit this past weekend. The plan was to run as many rocky hills to ensure his shoes and gear are ready to tackle the Cactus Rose 100 at the end of the month. He is.

I, on the other hand, came to the grim realization that I need to run more. It became abundantly clear that my spotty training has yielded crappy performance. I know what to do. Run more.

Photo: Hill Country State Natural Area

Part of the fun of volunteering at trail races is watching other runners persevere despite the suffering they endure.

On Saturday, I saw a few people struggle through their races at the Texas Trail Running Festival. A few puked. But they picked themselves up and kept going to the finish. One guy was determined to quit and was ready. Then he sat in a chair, had a gel and some cold water. He stood up, looked me in the eye and said, "You know what? I'm finishing this thing." He had 3 miles left in a marathon.

My favorite finisher was Kelly, a friend from the Rio Grande Valley. She was doing her first marathon. She is in her early 60s and isn't fast. She knew it would take her a while. With each loop, she grew more determined to finish. 

Watching people persevere with grit and grace inspires me as I approach the remaining races of 2020. I will hang onto those lessons and channel the strength of those I saw this weekend.

Photo: Social-distance selfie: Kelly Cunningham, PJ Izaguirre and me.

Saturday marked the first time I've done a race since March. It felt good to see friends and participate in an actual timed event. The only difference is we had to wear a face-covering at the start/finish.

I employed an eclectic playlist to get me through the 10 miles, and still had a few songs to spare.

It was a great experience, and once again, it felt as close to normal as we can get at the moment.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, my goal race, The Snowdrop 55-Hour event, is postponed until next year. They're offering a virtual event (nope). My registration is now rolled over until next year, which means another awful summer of training.

I share my favorite parable as a means of how I try to look at life.

Photo: me and Kimberley Aubuchon masked up after the finish. She took fourth in the women's race.

Saturday marked the first time I've done a race since March. It felt good to see friends and participate in an actual timed event. The only difference is we had to wear a face-covering at the start/finish.

I employed an eclectic playlist to get me through the 10 miles, and still had a few songs to spare.

It was a great experience, and once again, it felt as close to normal as we can get at the moment.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, my goal race, The Snowdrop 55-Hour event, is postponed until next year. They're offering a virtual event (nope). My registration is now rolled over until next year, which means another awful summer of training.

I share my favorite parable as a means of how I try to look at life.

Photo: me and Kimberley Aubuchon masked up after the finish. She took fourth in the women's race.

After seven months of not leaving my county, I headed several counties away to Pace Bend Park last weekend to help with the Mellow Trail Race, sponsored by Tejas Trails. It was pretty much how things have been in the past, with a few exceptions: face masks were required, no food at aid stations and runners had to take off their own ankle timing chip and pick up their finisher's medal from a table.

But in many ways, it was just like old times: meeting up with longtime friends, making new friends and watching runners accomplish their goals -- some against some odds.

In the end, it was a great experience. I get to do it again the weekend after next at another race.

The long weekend was sort of a progression run over three days: the first day was kind of rough, the second and longest run day was better and the third day -- a virtual race -- gave me the incentive to push. And it showed.

Many thanks to my friend, Maria, for joining me on Saturday and being supportive and knowing when to push me.

Hoping for cooler weather and remaining optimistic.

I discovered that if I have a plan, I can get through a long run a lot easier. Some days, I don't have a plan, which is a surefire way of it turning into a chaotic experience. Not having a plan has its advantages when you're required to be flexible. It doesn't help if you're committed to covering a fair amount of ground.

Volunteering and one of my favorite races are filling up my calendar for September. It will be nice to get out of San Antonio for the first time in seven months, even if it means I will be socially distant and wearing a mask.

Photo: the rolling hills of the trails at Sullivan City, Texas

I have been battling the negative voices in my head for a while. I had chased away those demons years ago, but they have sneaked back into my psyche. The tipping point came when I got some very unexpected and negative feedback about something last week and it went downhill from there. My inner voice kept saying, "You're a loser. You're an idiot." This not only affected my self-esteem but I also let it affect my running.

I reached out to a group on Facebook for runners over 50 and got a lot of interesting feedback.

I'm going to incorporate some of that advice into my life and running as I continue this journey. Sometimes I forget to be grateful for the ability to run, much less how it makes me feel. Sometimes, you need to live in the moment.