I still haven't run since my Snowdrop debacle, but that will change today.

I spent last week pondering the year ahead. I also spent Wednesday helping set up for the Bandera race. Let me tell you: it is a ton of work and takes a week to physically set up this thing. I tied pieces of caution tape, learned how to set up large tents, schlepped boxes and sodas in my little, red wagon.

Saturday, I volunteered at the YaYa aid station and got to see a bunch of elite runners blaze through. I also went into my "think for the runners" mindset for the "regular" folks. It's fun to suggest things to them that they haven't thought about. Later, they are thankful. And it makes me happy to help them.

I've got a few small goals so far this year.

One thing I am doing is meeting with a counselor to work through my DNF mindset as well as some other related issues. It's a little personal, but I wanted to share.

I dropped out at Snowdrop after 23 miles. It's embarrassing and humiliating, but my mind wasn't right. I didn't feel like being out on the course for over two days, even though I knew what I signed up for. I was surrounded by friends but I felt lonely. I tried getting out of my head, which worked for a while and then the DNF Fairy would return, encouraging me to quit.

I learned that I am not cut out for these 100-milers. It's not my thing. I've been saying for years that I'm going to dial it back to the shorter distances, which are more doable, I think.

I signed up for a 6-hour race in mid-February. Some have questioned whether I should take on such an event so soon. I don't know, I feel like I need to do something to try to get my mojo back. 

I may return to cycling, but I need a bike. Some have suggested mountain biking, which is slightly terrifying, but it still is trail adjacent.

That's the thing: the trails and the community are where I feel most at home. I can't bear the thought of losing that connection.

Kenneth Anderlitch has had an audacious running career: he won his first marathon and took second in his first 100-miler. There have also been missteps but he has considered them learning experiences. Just after Thanksgiving this year, he ran across Texas. It took him 19 days and he covered somewhere between 840 and 850 miles. (He and his two-man crew are still tabulating the Garmin data.) The cause: Pay it Forward SA, a place that provides a link between recovery and sober living. Anderlitch used the agency's services when he was recovering from addiction and getting back on his feet.

I think I just created a new subcategory.

Joe Schmal is an exceptional runner. He is humble about admitting it. He has won 100-mile races and used running as a way to overcome alcoholism. He now faces a new challenge: the effects of long Covid. Even though he had a  mild case, the lingering aftereffects have impeded his ability to run the way he used to.  This setback has him evaluating what is next. Well, he has plenty to keep him busy: two teenage daughters, a 3-year-old son and a newborn daughter, with his wife, Julie, who is a formidable ultrarunner herself.

I went into the Brazos Bend 50-miler on Saturday with the best of intentions. I wanted to finish, I had my mind right and had more or less dealt with a cranky left hip flexor a few days before.

Well, I rode out the lows, which helped.

The hip was achy, which didn't.

The thing that I almost never get was blisters. Under my toenails and feet. I decided to drop.

Yes, I know this is my third DNF in a row, but this one had a purpose.

I realized I have a great, quickish hiking pace and my mental game was on.

My nutrition was spotty. But, at Snowdrop, I know this will be OK.

I am confident that I am ready to tackle my hundo. No looking back.

Paz welcomes Hundo back to the pod for a chat about our upcoming races. The nerves and ghost pains are kicking in. I am more worried about the voices in my head and have some ideas about how to quiet them. We also debate the merits of bringing food to the race to eat between those 16-plus-mile loops. (There's three of them). We also debate whether my strategy of using timed intervals is wise versus going by feel: run when you can and walk when you can't. 

Fresh from a trip to South Florida, I am reminded why I can't live there again. Oh, how I loved that place. But now it has morphed from being the quirky-cool cat into a freak show of garish skyscrapers, generic development and paving over every darn last square inch. It's a real shame.

But, anyway, I suffered from Broken-Brain Syndrome on Friday and caved at the midway point at Wild Hare. Lots of introspection and too much living in my head. This is a consistent issue with me and one that is an ongoing struggle to overcome.

Still, I plan to grind out the next two races. Because I *am* the Stubborn Tortoise.

Title riffs off of Orville Peck's "The Curse of the Blackened Eye."

I have a 50K on Friday and am a little worried because my training hasn't quite been there. But, over the weekend, I tapped into my mental game and reminded myself that the mental game is a big part of finishing. Looking ahead, I am worried about finishing the Brazos Bend 50-miler. The course can be soul-sucking with a lot of out-and-backs. On the good side, it is flat and the aid stations are great. I just need to remember to eat. From there, is the big kahuna: Snowdrop. I'm trying not to get overly worried and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. That's really all it is. I just need to block out the voices in my head. Oh, and it looks like I'm going to South Florida next week for a day or so. I'm supposed to be interviewed by Investigation Discovery regarding a case I'd extensively written about.

David Infante is a bit of an outlier when it comes to ultrarunning. He doesn't necessarily use a training plan and goes by feel. He once ran a 50K fueling with one sugar-free Red Bull and finished in just over 5 hours. He doesn't sleep when he does 100or 200-milers. At one race, he and his companion had hallucinations but they saw entirely different things.

The Rio Grande Valley native now lives in New Mexico where the mountains are his friend.

Later this year, he is running Across the Years, doing "just" the 24-hour event. (There are options to run up to six days)

And next year, he will take on another 200-miler. Because he can.

Photo: Infante running the Superior 100, his second hundred-miler.

Holy moly, I did not have getting stung by a swarm of hornets on my Mission Tejas race BINGO card.

But, that is what happened. I wasn't alone in getting surprise-stung, but I was hurting enough to choose to drop after 10K.

The course is beautiful, yet more challenging than expected.

Hats off to Cal Neff and Rob Goyen for quickly pivoting the course until the mad stingers were dealt with. (It makes me sad that they had to be killed because they were only doing what nature wants them to do.)

This DNF throws yet another wrench into my Snowdrop-100 training. But, as my mom would say, "Oh honey, everything will be all right."