2014 Cactus Rose 100 Race Report

The Background

I had no idea if I'd adequately prepared for Cactus Rose in the weeks before the race. A sprained ankle had cut a week and a half out of the heart of the training season and my one training race, the Rough Creek 40 miler, had been a slog.  I had become much less obsessive about my training this year, running more by feel, not carrying GPS, not logging my miles.  Running and racing is becoming less competitive for me and more of a spiritual exercise, a chance to practice mindfulness, connect with nature and the universe, and test my limits.  Sure, I still like to look at race results and chase down headlamps, but becoming less obsessive on results and more focused on the journey has led to a peaceful feeling of acceptance.  If nothing else, stoicism helps when you're an average runner like me who tends to have major meltdowns at races.

That said, I did put in one long night run three weeks out from Cactus, a 32 miler in the George Mitchell Nature Preserve.  I did 19 repeats of a mile and half loop then ran home.  Heading out Friday after work as the sun set, the main goal was to experience the sleep deprivation that had plagued me at Rocky Raccoon 100.  I cruised through the miles and never got sleepy, so the zombie factor was still a big question mark for Cactus.

I had planned to do one more 20 miler Sunday two weeks out from the race but I hurt my back moving a piano.  The back pain went away in a day, luckily. I ran a ten miler the weekend before Cactus and that was it.  This would be an experiment, to see if less structured training and a lot of rest would lead to me to perform well or crash and burn.

The Course

There is something magical and otherworldly about the Hill Country State Natural Area.  The towering hills, rocky trails, and sotol patches feel like a combination of an old cowboy movie set and an alien planet.

Cactus Rose 100 is consists of four 25 mile loops with aid stations roughly five miles apart.  The first loop aids go Lodge > Equestrian  > Nachos > Equestrian > Boyles > Lodge.  The first ten miles to Nachos, with the exception of the short climb up Lucky's Peak, is very runnable, though this being Bandera there are still a lot of rocks.  Nachos > Equestrian gets tougher with Ice Cream Hill and a couple other climbs.  Equestrian > Boyles is in my opinion the toughest stretch with many steep climbs like Three Sisters and Sky Island.  Boyles > Lodge features the big climbs of Boyles Bump and Cairn's Climb.  You can make good time on this section though because you run fairly smooth trail atop these hills and then there is a mile of runnable trail back to the lodge. 

After each loop you reverse directions.  That means for 100 milers miles 0-10, 40-60, and 90-100 are pretty runnable with tough sections of hills for miles 15-35 and 65-85.

The Race 

My family and I camped in the field and I had trouble sleeping the night before the race.  I got around three or four hours sleep, which was more than before Rocky Raccoon, but I was definitely nervous about Saturday night.

We headed out at 5am in a trail of headlamps into the dark hills.  My strategy was to get through the first 50 miles feeling as good as possible.  I ran very conservatively, letting people pass me, reminding myself to run my own race, finishing the first loop in 5:46.  I had a mini low point at the beginning of the second loop, probably just because I was behind on my nutrition, but overall I was feeling fresh through around 35 miles.

This was to be the hottest year in race history with a high of 84.  At Rough Creek 40 last month it was in the mid 90s with no shade, so that heat training would be of use.  Still, as the midday sun beat down my energy drained and I went into another low. 

At mile 50, I would pick up my music.  This happened to be when the sun lowered in the sky, and the combination of the drop in heat and the Grateful Dead raised my spirits.  I cruised and sang along into the night through mile 70 or so.

Then atop Boyles Bump the sleep fatigue set in.  This time it was even worse than at Rocky.  Becoming disorientated, I staggered along the trail.  I lied down several times along a flat rock or simply on a mess of stones, trying to sleep for a minute or two.  I couldn't sleep nor see how to continue.  Wanting so badly to drop the race, I held in my mind my kids, not wanting them to see me as a quitter.  I know that every ultrarunner has to face DNFs and there is no shame in pushing yourself to the limits and falling short of your dreams.  But I knew the pain of giving up would be worse than enduring this light-headed zombie stagger.

Luckily, fellow runners came to my aid, as I chatted with a couple of folks along the trail, one of whom was in them same shape as I and hallucinating.  We both made it to Boyles aid and tried to sleep.  I lied down on the dirt with my pack as my pillow for maybe ten minutes, still unable to sleep. 
At this point, I was at mile 80 at 6:00 or so in the morning.  I knew then sun would soon rise and might revive me.  Dreading to head out into the cold night, I shuffled out into the darkness. 

As the rays of sun shone out over the hills of Bandera, my fatigue lifted and I rallied.  I began running hard.  I had dropped the music as my head couldn't handle it but instead I was inspired by the awesome beauty of the landscape and the power of nature.  The ancient forces at work humbled me, the night bringing on sleep and the sun energy.

Dawn at mile 86 or so

Wanting to make use of this surge to finish, as I battled the last 15 miles I would pick a runnable section, check my watch, and tell myself to run hard for ten minutes.  Sometimes, at the end of ten I'd be going downhill and stretch it a little longer.

Finally, I made it over Lucky's Peak with a mile to the finish.  I sprinted down the trail, overcome with emotion, and ran across the line with my kids. My time was 31:37.

Loop 1	05:46:14
Loop 2	07:45:33
Loop 3	09:21:45
Loop 4	08:43:38

 

 

 

 

Reflections

For a middle of the pack runner like me, this race was about as good of a performance as I could have hoped for.  I could definitely cut time by being more efficient at the aid stations.  My goal for this race was just to finish and I sat and chugged coke and ate Pringles at the aid, which added up on the clock.  This kept me going but for a race with a time goal I could cut this down by eating on the trail.  And if I could figure out this sleep deprivation thing, either by simply getting a good night's sleep beforehand or coming up with a better coping strategy, that would help.  But I didn't give up when things seemed lost and fought the whole way.  At Rocky, I'd really only run hard the last five miles or so but here I ran steadily through sections in the last 50 miles.

Another reminder from this race was how decent and good most ultrarunners are.  In addition to those who kept me sane during my sleep breakdown, a moment that stuck with me was when I arrived at Bandera, trying to set up my tent, get my family situated, then find the aid stations to place my drop bags in the dark.  A guy named Chip walked me to Boyles and chatted with me, helping a total stranger for no reason.  It's a great feeling to be part of our little community.  To Joe, Joyce, Tejas Trails, all the volunteers and runners, thanks for helping me along the way.

2014 Rough Creek 40 Miler

2014 Rough Creek 40 Miler

The Background

After DNFing at Bighorn 100, I took some time off then ran some lower key races, the Magnolia Hills 21k and the six hour Fatasstic Challenge in the Ho, where I did around 25 miles.  I felt I was rolling pretty well, then I rolled my ankle on a training run.  At first I just kept running but then decided take time off until the pain went away, which totaled eight days. 

All of the sudden Cactus Rose 100 was a few weeks away and I had little confidence in my endurance.  I would use Rough Creek 40 miler as a training race, but I wasn't even sure I was fit enough for that.  The two weekends preceding Rough creek I ran 20 mile trail runs.  The first was a slog; the second I felt great, cruising at a 10 minute mile pace the whole way.

Still heading into Rough Creek, I was a bit anxious.  This was my first ultra finish in 2012 and I went back in 2013 where it was 96 degrees with no cloud or tree cover.  I became seriously dehydrated that day and I packed two bottles for this year's race.

The Course

The course is ten miles of runnable double and single track and three miles of the Rusty Crown, short steep, rocky hills that go up and down seemingly endlessly. You hit half of the crown out on the way to a loop called The Bowl which features a couple gentle climbs in and out.  On the way back is the toughest part of the Crown, with my favorite climb called The Beast, which is so steep it requires clawing up with your hands.

 

 

 

The Beast from 2013

 

 

This year the wild flowers were especially beautiful, blooming purple, yellow and red.

 

The Race

As I stood in line for the restroom before the race, I noticed that six of the seven guys six had beards, including myself this year.  Definitely it's become the ultrarunner fashion.

As we headed out, clouds covered the sun.  It was humid, but not really that hot.  I thanked the weather gods and tried to keep an even pace.

I really do love the Rusty Crown and look forward to running it each year.  As I hit it the first time, I began charging the climbs and bombing the downs.  Reminding myself that this is another way of going out to fast, I slowed my pace a bit.

All throughout the first two loops, taking me to the marathon distance, I kept repeating to myself, "Hold back a bit.  Hold back a bit."  I wanted to hit the last loop feeling strong and I cruised steadily on, feeling fine up to this point.  Making short work of the aid stations, drinking and eating on pace, I felt super as I began the final loop.

Then the sun came out.  The glare of the heat and my lack of long runs before the race suddenly teamed up and I was a wreck.  Hiking most of the way to the Bowl aid station, I hoped to rally for a final push.  I ran most of the way back to the Rusty Crown, but by the time I hit the hills I was a zombie.  I staggered up and down and the sun beat down, wanting nothing more than to rest under the shade.  Knowing that if I sat my legs might lock up, I kept pushing on.  It seemed like the last descent would never come but finally I shuffled down to the aid station.

It was 2.75 miles to the finish.  Every ultra I've ever run, I've always run in the last two miles.  This time I ran / walked it. My wife and kids were waiting for me right before the finish line and the kids ran with me the last steps.  My daughter Paloma fell behind so I stopped and took her hand and jogged to the line.  As down as I was during the last lap, that moment made it all worth it.

Reflections

As I hit the major low during the last loop, I wondered if I really can make it through Cactus Rose 100.  I'm going to make an attempt regardless.  I think I'll do one all night run to mentally prepare myself for the darkness and sleep deprivation.

The first year I ran Rough Creek, I ran it in 8:36.  I think that was a combination of good weather and inexperience as an ultrarunner making me fearless.  The second year was a heat year and I ran 10:32.  This year's 10:14 is by no means a stellar performance.  But as always there is the rewarding feeling that comes when everything falls apart, you suffer, and yet you finish.

Rough Creek is one of my favorite races.  The distance is not a challenge for most ultrarunners, but the combination of the Rusty Crown and the heat of the last two years make this a tough and rewarding journey.  Thanks to David, Endurance Buzz Adventure, and all the volunteers for putting on a great race.



Xterra Magnolia Hills Race Report

Xterra Magnolia Hills Race Report

The Background

After my DNF at Bighorn 100, I wanted to reset my running mindset and focus on a completely different goal.  I looked for a shorter trail race and found the Xterra Magnolia Hill 21k in Navasota, Texas.  Just an hour from my house and with a reasonable entry fee, it’d be a convenient and hopefully fun race.

I hadn’t devoted too much time to speedwork in the previous months, so I did several fartlek sessions between 6:45 and 7:30 pace for a mile or two.  These felt like hard efforts but manageable.

The Course

The race had advertised itself as a fast course, so I imagined smooth, rolling doubletrack.   Most of the course is actually on winding, hilly bike trails.  There is never a climb of over a few feet, but the constant up and down and turning at a running pace beat up your legs.  There’s two loops of the bike trails of five or so miles each then one two mile loop of smooth trail around the lake.  No rocks or roots to speak of, just a few wooden bridges.

The Race

As stated above,  I anticipated a very runnable course.  I had finished the Natural Bridge Caverns Half Marathon in 1:41, and that race had some moderately technical trail and big hills, so I figured I’d head out at a 7:30 pace then see how I felt.  If I could hold that, I’d be up at the front given last year’s results.

This shows how you should never set any time expectations the first time running a race.  I headed out fast the first couple of miles and the windy trail soon beat up my legs.  It was also hot and humid and I soon began to feel drained.  I slowed steadily, trying to run my own race and letting people pass me.  As I faded, I would walk a few up hills.  At one point in the second loop I took a wrong turn that cost me a couple of minutes.  By the time I started the final two mile lake loop I was almost staggering.  I crawled to the finish line in 2:15.

Reflections

This experience goes to show that going into any race overconfident is a mistake.  I’m a midpack runner and going out trying to place up front will be a mistake.  I should just take what the day gives me.   A half marathon can still be hard after fourteen ultras.

The soreness in my legs was different this time, mostly around the calves and ankles, showing how the little rolling hills at a fast pace beat them up.

I did finish 4th out of 14 for my age group, which does the ego some good despite the tough day.

I do want to run more shorter races like this, though. I still think I need to limit my ultras and sub-marathon races allow the chance to race, finish in a couple of hours, and not drain the body and mind too much.

Bighorn 100 Race Report - DNF

Bighorn 100 Race Report - DNF

The Background

I took about five weeks off after my first 100 mile finish at Rocky Raccoon.  I started off thinking I might run a road marathon early in this season to build speed, but my first run out the door let me know how slow my legs were.  I used the Brazos Bend 50 to build my base and did a lot of Stairmaster and treadmill at a 15% incline at 3.7 to 4 mph.

My wife, my kids, and my mother and father-in-law arrived in Cody, Wyoming a week before the race.  It was amazing to see actual mountains.  We spent two days in Yellowstone and I climbed Elephant Back mountain with my wife and the kids, about an 800 foot ascent.

Checking into the race was my first medical exam before an event.  The volunteer warned me about the elevation but so far being at altitude had not phased me two much.

What I was worried about, though, was my cold.  Stepping off the plane, I felt a soreness in my throat, and I felt extremely week the first day in Wyoming.  The weakness faded a bit but I still felt sick into race morning.

The Race

We headed off at 11am, an unusual time to start a 100 mile race.  I did manage to get a full nights sleep the night before thanks to some Nyquil, unlike many of my previous ultras, but I would be running well into the next day were I able to finish.

The first part of the race winds through Tongue River Canyon.  Craggy rock formations loomed overhead as we raced by the river.

 

Before the start

 

Love that Stonehenge looking rock formation

 

Running along the canyon

 

 

 

Once out of the canyon begins a massive 4000 foot climb up to Dry fork aid station at 13 miles in.  The trail up the mountain is truly spectacular with the green hillside covered with yellow and purple wildflowers.  I could have stopped every few feet to take a picture.

 

 

Climbing

 Halfway up

 



Approaching the summit

 

After leaving Dry Fork, there are many miles of relatively flat running before the 2000 foot drop to Foot Bridge Aid at mile 30.  Flat sections of courses often send me into mental low points, as I prefer the variation of climbing and descending.  I started to feel tired and my head wasn't in the race until the drop.  The descent was truly amazing and I hammered down the trail, perhaps too hard as things turned out.

 

Running down to Dry Fork

 

After Dry Fork is a long 4000 foot climb up to Jaws aid station at mile 48, where we'd be at nearly 9000 feet in elevation.  There is a lot of beautiful running by the river and the climb was not as steep nor sustained as the first major ascent.

 

 

Running along the river as night approaches

 

I carried a hoodie and pants out of Dry Fork as I knew it would be getting cold as night fell.  I started to feel very weak as I slowly climbed up to Jaws, shaking my head, dizzy and disorientated.  It felt like sickness from the cold and not the altitude, as there was no headache.  There was a lot of mud on the course that sucked at your shoes and it rained a bit.

 

I started stopping for several minutes at aid stations, sitting by campfires, trying to warm myself with soup and regroup.   By the time I got to Jaws I was completely spent.  I contemplated for a long time carrying on but I couldn't stop shaking.  The volunteers had my lay out on a stretcher and I couldn't get back up.  I dropped.

 

Reflections

 

I went into the race knowing that I was sick and I'm proud that I made it halfway through the course.  I would have turned around at Jaws and headed back the way I came, so I'm glad I at least got to see the whole of the trail.

 

I honestly think I could have finished this thing healthy, but a DNF is a DNF and I would have had to prove it.  I look forward to going back, hopefully next year.  The course is beautiful beyond words and the volunteers are amazing.  Many thanks to all.

 

 

 

 

 



HCSNA and the Power of the Now

Wednesday and Thursday I put in my final long runs for the Bighorn 100 at the Hill Country State Natural Area, in what I hope will be a breakthrough session.

My goal was as much to prepare my mind as my body for the race. I've long been interested in stoic and Buddhist philosophy, and I recently read The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Tolle writes that most of life's pain comes from too much past or too much future. We obsess about past pain, long for what was, or yearn for some future we imagine to be better than the present. Peace is found in presence in the now, embracing and being fully aware of each moment.

Tolle isn't saying anything that Marcus Aurelius or Buddha hadn't said before, but his book is a wonderful restatement of the power of focusing the mind on the moment. I thought about how many times that I counted down the days until an ultra like a kid before Christmas, then spent hours in mental agony wanting to end it because of something as simple as a blister or sleepiness. A lack of presence makes pain and the miles to go overwhelming. I should ask myself, what is so unbearable in the present moment? Often when I focus on how I actually feel this second instead of the idea that I'm hurting, I'm surprised how manageable it is. Yes, my legs are sore. They've hurt far worse before. As for the miles ahead, an ultramarathon, like life, is made up of a series of moments. The only time that ever exists is the present, and agony comes from wishing for the future, the finish line.

With that in mind, I made a conscious effort to focus my mind on the now when I arrived at the HCSNA for my last long runs. After driving from The Woodlands and setting up my tent it was 2:30 and hot, the sun baking the hills. I jogged out to Sky Island with a gallon water jug in one hand and my bottle in the other for hill repeats. Instead of thinking of the heat as an adversary, I embraced it. I knew it would be hot in the Bighorn canyons and this would be good heat training. Instead of checking my watch every few minutes and calculating how much longer was left, I tried to let go of time. I focused on each step, each rock, each flower, each cactus. I didn't reach nirvana or anything, but there were brief moments where I did become much more aware, perhaps towards some kind of enlightenment. I went up and down Sky Island for over fours hours with little agony and considerable joy. I constantly had to refocus my mind on the now when it drifted, but trying to truly experience and embrace each moment prevented the anguish that had accompanied my on so many long runs before.

I woke up before dawn Thursday morning and it was relatively cool with cloud cover. I parked at Equestrian, then jogged down the park road to the lodge, headed for Cairn's Climb and Boyle's Bump. As I'd be running Cactus Rose and Bandera once again in the fall and winter, I wanted to memorize the hills in a non-race mindset. From the lodge, the first climb up Cairn's is short, straight, and steep, about six minutes up and down for me at a slow pace. I did ten repeats before going over the top and down the other side. This climb is longer and more technical. I did five repeats before heading to Boyle's. The first climb is at a relatively easy grade and smooth by Bandera standards. I did three repeats before jogging over the plateau. The final climb is long, windy, and technical. I did two repeats before heading back to my car.

Throughout this run I focused on an easy, slow pace, imagining the effort I wanted for the first twenty miles of Bighorn. I kept my mind on each moment and the savage beauty of HCSNA and five hours and twenty minutes flew by.

So now I'm in my taper. I don't know if I'll be able to stay in the now during Bighorn, but I am only able to be in the mountains once a year. Focusing the mind is a constant effort, but I hope to be present in the moment and truly experience each step.

Brazos Bend 50 Miler Race Report

The Background

My training for the Brazos Bend 50 miler was less than to be desired.  I had taken five weeks off of running after Rocky Raccoon 100, and on my first six miler I felt winded.  Goes to show how quickly you can get out of shape.  I settled into the regular routine of daily runs.  During spring break, I camped at Bandera for three days.  The big day was four hours of hill repeats on Sky Island with 3000+ feet of vertical gain.

From the top of Sky Island

But then I got busy, got a cold, then a stomach virus, so I really didn't get in a proper long run for three weeks.  I managed to do a 20 miler on Good Friday, a ten mile out and back on the Spring Creek Greenway.

My main goal for this race was to finish and get in the miles for the Bighorn 100 in June.  Still, I had never really nailed a 50 miler.  My PR was at the Texas Trails 50 in Huntsville State Park in December 2012.  In that race I'd gone out too fast and crashed badly, finishing on 10:05.  My A goal would be to go under nine hours, my B goal sub-ten.

The Course

I had never been to Brazos Bend State Park, but was excited to go in that there were supposed to be alligators on the trails.  The course consists of three 16.7 mile loops of flat trails.  The terrain ranges from gravel to smooth trail with a bit of pavement.  The biggest climb was like eight feet.

You get to see a lot of beautiful wildlife of birds and, yes, alligators on the trails.  Too bad my phone was messed up so no pictures.

The Race

I got up at 3am to get ready for the hour and a half drive from The Woodlands to Needville, south of Houston.  

We started at 6am by headlamp, a fingernail moon sailing above the fog and swamps.  The sun rose about an hour later but stayed under cloud cover.  While it was hot and humid, this made the weather manageable for the first two loops.

For loop one, I tried to focus on running my own race.  I let people pass me the first few miles and tried to run a steady, comfortable pace.  After a few miles, started chatting with some folks and fell into their pace, which was a little brisker than before.  While the conversation was good, I started to feel a bit tired by the end of the first loop.  Mentally I added up the miles to go, always a mistake, and went I into a mini-low period.  I finished first loop in  a little under three hours.

I rebounded and for most of the second loop I race a slow pace of 12 or 13 minutes per mile.  I'd run nearly every step at this point. I felt very good at this point and was ready to push it on the final loop at a little over six hours in.

Here is where I made my mistake.  After saving up my energy at 33 miles in, I ran the first 4.7 section of the final loop hard.  At the same time, the sun came out from behind the clouds.  I started feeling weak with heat chills coming out of the first aid station of the loop.  I walked a bit, then jogged very slowly, trying to recover.

Reaching the second aid station, halfway through the final loop, I felt the wheels coming off.  I walked for a few minutes,  thinking about how far the final seven miles seemed.  I told myself that if I could run the three miles to the last aid station, I'd have earned a decent performance, even though the nine hour goal was gone and ten seemed to be slipping away.  I did manage to jog to the next aid, seesawing with runners who would stop to walk then run faster than my pace.  I don't know which was a better tactic.

After the final aid I walked a few more minutes, telling myself that I'll check my Garmin and see how close I was to ten hours.  I started jogging for a few minutes, then checked my watch again with two miles to go.  If I could run eleven minute miles to the finish, I might break ten hours.  I started to run hard.

A mile and a half later came the blessed moment when I saw the green inflatable arch of the finish fast approaching.  Either my Garmin had been wrong or the aid station split was a bit short.  I hurtled across the line in 9:51:52.

 

This giant medal make me feel like Flavor Flav!

Reflections

First and foremost, I'm glad I got in the 50 miles to have a base for Bighorn.  I feel good that this race did not devolve into miles and miles of walking as did Nueces and Hells Hills last year.  I don't think I walked more than ten minutes at a time.  Hal Higdon said we take our running victories where and when we can get them, so I'm happy I got a PR and made my B goal, even though I think nine hours was possible with a better performance.

The obvious lesson is that even with saving up energy until the last third of the race, which was great, I shouldn't then just start running as hard as I can.  I should have gradually increased the pace towards the finish.  Also, I really didn't have any strategic walk breaks the whole race, rather walking was reactionary.  I should plan these, especially for flat races.

Thanks to Brazos Bend Trail Races and the volunteers for putting on a great race, and my family for supporting me.

I'm excited going into Bighorn 100.  Now it will be as much Stairmaster as I can get and a lot of long runs...

Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile Race Report

The Background

After slogging through the Bandera 100k, I was excited about racing again.  This would be my last race of a season that began in June with the Capt'n Karls series.  In the space of six months, I'd finished seven ultras and suffered two DNFs.  Most notably, my drop from Cactus Rose 100 loomed large.  Though energized about getting a second chance at Rocky Raccoon 100, I knew I was on my last legs mentally.  Physically, my right knee was a bit sore the past few runs and I prayed it'd hold out for one more race.

After Bandera, I did one more 20 miler but pretty much tapered.  With no climbing to worry about in Huntsville State Park, I cut the Stairmaster sessions.

As race day approached, I started to get a cold. I work at a school and get sick more than most people, but still wondered why on this of all days of the year I couldn't be 100% healthy.

My wife Elizabeth's mom and dad, Tony and Linda, arrived at the park Wednesday before the race to camp in their RV.  After leaving work in the afternoon, packing up the gear and kids, we made it to packet pickup Friday with ten minutes to spare.  Soon, we all relaxed in front of the glow of the campfire.  James made a kabob of four giant marshmallows to roast and the kids kept throwing handful of leaves on the fire.  My favorite song, "Wish You Were Here"  by Pink Floyd came on the oldies station in the background.

I climbed into the comfy little cubby hole of a bed in the RV at nine while the family enjoyed the rest of the evening.   I get insomnia and had slept only three or four hours Thursday night.  Managing to nod off after about an hour,  I woke up again shortly after midnight.  Struggling for precious moments of sleep, I only caught only brief snoozes before it was time to head to the start.

The Course

I'll abbreviate my normal course description because pretty much all you see at Rocky are pine trees, plank bridges, the lake, and roots.  The only consideration on this flat course is managing the aid stations.  From the lodge Dogwood to the first two aid stations, Nature Center and Dam Nation are three mile splits.  Then follows a loop of six miles back to Dam Nation.  Three and a half to Park Road then four to the finish.  Do that five times and you've run 100 miles. 

The Race

Joe counted us down and off we went. Based on the advice of the experienced, I tried to divide the loops in to sections.  Loop one would be a warm up.  Loops two and three would be the work, putting in the miles methodically.  Loop four would be the hardest, the uncharted mileage where most people drop.  Loop five would obviously be brutal but also a victory lap of sorts, knowing the finish awaits.

On the first loop, I spotted a guy I chat with at multiple ultras, Bill.  Talking goals, I said I just wanted to finish.  Sub 24 would be a perfect day but it wasn't that realistic for my first 100. 

I tried to avoid going out too fast with keeping up a brisk pace while I could still move.  When I saw I was running next to Matt Zmolek, a guy capable of going sub 24 at Cactus Rose, I knew I had erred on the side of the former.  I finished the first loop in about 3:45, my legs were sore and I was tired.

Into loop two, I hit my first low.  Up until that point I was having fun, thinking how wonderful it was to be running towards a great goal with great people.  Then the fatigue and the miles ahead started messing with my mind.  As with Bandera, the long race season left me wondering why I run these races, put myself through hours of agony.

However, there was no way I was going to drop and repeat the depression of Cactus Rose.  If I had to walk all night and finish by the cutoff in thirty hours, I'd do it.  I made it my goal to run as long as I could.  I thought that I'd be earning the buckle if I could run through the third loop.  That would be nearly 100k, the farthest I'd ever gone.

All day long I'd been tired from the cold, blowing my nose and coughing.  As I finished the second loop in four hours and change, the lack of sleep hit me and I would periodically get dizzy and disoriented, shaking my head to stay awake.  As night fell, my body began wanting to shut down.  I wished for nothing more than to crawl into that RV and sleep.

I headed out into the fourth loop.  I knew when I reached the Nature Center, I'd have run 63 miles, each step a new PR in distance. 

I decided nutritionally to stick to gels the first half of the race and real food the second.  Tejas Trails and the volunteers offer the best in Texas hospitality, and I tried to keep my energy up with quesadillas, burgers, soup, chips, coke, and coffee.   I'd taken electrolytes every aid against the warm and humid day.

As I headed out of Dam Nation, 66 miles in, a wave of sleepiness hit me.  I wished I'd sat down in a chair and slept for a few minutes to recharge.  I had six miles to go before I'd be back to the aid, and if I tried to sleep on the trail kind-hearted runners would be checking if I was okay every minute.  I struggled on.  When I reached Dam Nation again, I lied down on the ground next to a log, using my pack as a pillow.  I set my alarm for thirty minutes.  I closed my eyes for about ten minutes not really sleeping.  I decided this was getting me nowhere and tried to get up again, but the pull of rest made this a battle.  Nevertheless, I picked myself up and headed down the trail. 

Finally, I made it to the end of the fourth loop.  I went to my drop bag, took out a hoodie to use as a pillow, and lied  down in a clear spot on the side.  I rested maybe fifteen minutes this time, possibly sleeping one or two minutes.  Dragging to my feet, it was time to begin loop five. 

The day had been too hot to justify taking my hoodie into the last loop, but as I left Dam Nation the final time, a cold and misty wind chilled me.  I had gloves and a long sleeve in my pack.  Again, sleep deprivation hit and I stretched out on a log on the side of the trail for maybe five minutes before beginning a final push.

Loops one through three had been mostly running with some hiking, loops four and five the reverse.  I started pushing the pace in the final ten miles, more aggressively hiking or throwing in some running, just wanting to be done with the thing.  I told myself that when the sun came up, I'd try to run it in.  Not having to rely on the headlamp to spot for roots, I began to run hard the final five miles or so.  The drizzle had turned into actual rain the last hour as I pushed towards the finish.

Running along the trail parallel to the park road, I knew the turn into the final yard was within reach.  Elizabeth and James cheered me on from the side as I crossed the line, shook Joe's hand, the clock reading 26:01.  Elizabeth had tears in her eyes as she embraced me.

Reflections

I had accomplished a goal I had dreamed of for over two years, born from Dean Karnazes' description of Western States from his book.  During the race, I swore never, ever, ever to run 100 miles again.   It's just too much.  By the time I sat down in the RV, surrounded by smiling family, and recounted the day and night, it already didn't seem so bad.  By Monday, a scheduled day off to recover, I signed up for the Bighorn 100.  As a school person, I'll have the time off in the summer to drive across the country for a mountain adventure in Wyoming.

To run 100 miles the first time is literally an unimaginable challenge.  Even after running 100k, I still had no idea what it would be like to go 38 more.   For all the runners who pushed themselves to the limits of what is possible over those two days, the accomplishment of finishing touches the depths of the soul. 

Joe, Joyce, the volunteers, and the runners' friends and families make the journey possible.  To all who supported me along the way, a heartfelt thank you.

2014 Bandera 100k Race Report

The Background

After DNFing at Cactus Rose 100 in October, I needed to recharge my mental running energy.  After healing the Achilles, I put in some good performances by my standards at the Team Red White and Blue 10k and Soler’s Sports 50k. 

Back in the swing of things, I decided to use the holiday vacation to get in some time on feet.  The  biggest training week I’d ever logged was 100 miles. With a combination of road, trail, and Stairmaster, I managed to log 110 miles in seven days, a couple of weeks before Bandera.

As my wife and I arrived to set up our tent in the Hill Country State Natural Area, I was confident in my fitness but not in my mental preparedness.  I had been back to work as an assistant principal of my school for a week, and the craziness of the beginning of the semester had left me little time to think about the race.  I worried that this, combined with the fact that I’d been racing since June, would leave me unfocused.

The Course

Bandera  throws rocky trails, razor-sharp sotol, and steep climbs at the runners.  The first five miles feature Sky Island and Ice Cream Hill to the Nachos aid station.  For about ten miles, through Chapas aid and the first stop at Crossroads, it’s mostly flat trails.  Heading out from Crossroads for a five mile roundtrip  it's mostly runnable, with the Three Sisters hills in between.  The last nine miles feature  a lot of climbing with Lucky’s Peak, Cairn’s Climb, and Boyles Bump in succession.

The Race

The first five miles or so were fine until I fell down the hill.  I was descending the backside of Ice Cream Hill and made the mistake of trying to go around a runner, hopping down a step and skidding on my knees and hands.  With blood streaming down my legs, I started to run again and luckily my ankles and knees were still working.  I debated stopping at the next aid station for bandaids  but ended up just rinsing the wounds off with my water bottle.

From the Nachos aid to Crossroads there’s about ten miles of flat, smoother trail.  Flatter stuff is a challenge for me because I prefer the hills to break things up, and I went into a mental low point about ten miles in.  I asked myself why I do these crazy races.  Wouldn’t I be happier just running an hour a day and reading books?  I told myself this was the last race of the season; no way I’d be doing Rocky Raccoon in three weeks.

Since I was in bad mental shape, I decided to focus on taking care of myself and getting through the first 50k loop.  No way did I need to pile going out too fast on top of this mental low.  I jogged very slowly through the flat sections, hoping to conserve myself for the second loop.

I managed to rebound through the Lucky’s Peak, Cairn’s Climb, and Boyle’s Bump and started to feel confident and engaged again.  Finishing the first loop in seven hours exactly and not feeling tired, I thought there was a slim shot of beating my time of 14:17 last year. 

Sky Island and Ice Cream Hill tired me out though.  I told myself to run the flats, however slowly, through Crossroads, which I did.  The weather, which had been perfect all day, got slightly hotter.  Nothing compared to the 96 degrees of Rough Creek in September, but I could feel the sun on my face.  As I headed into the Chapas aid my water bottle ran out and I started to get dehydrated.  I focused on chugging coke and water at the aid stations until the sun went down.

At Crossroads, I dug my long sleeve shirt and gloves out of my pack as the cold set in.  However, the time spent standing still at the aid gave me the chills.  After jogging for a mile to warm up my body temperature I began walking.   With roughly a half marathon to go, I hit another low, again mental more than physical.  I didn’t want to run until midnight, didn’t want to race anymore. Finally with a mile before the return to Crossroads I got sick of the 20+ minute a mile pace and started running again, just wanting to be done with this thing.
When I reached Crossroads, it was 8:30.  Suddenly I realized that with nine miles to go, I had three hours to finish the race in Western States qualifying time, sixteen hours.  Energized, I ran everything runnable for a final push. 

Coming down the steep downhill of Sky Island in the dark, I fell again, this time only scraping my forearm a bit.  Again, still able to run.

Despite running all I could, I knew it would be close to get in under sixteen hours with Cairn’s Climb and Boyle’s Bump ahead.  The same as last year, running atop the plateau of Boyle’s, it seemed like the drop to the finish would never come.  Finally, I plunged through the darkness towards the lights of the lodge on the horizon.  I crossed the line in 15:27.

 

 

In the car after the finish

 

 

Awesome buckle!

 

Reflections

After the race, I felt revitalized about running again.  Yes, I ran 1:10 slower than last year, but in the previous race everything had clicked.  This one was more of a test of will, and I felt proud that I’d pushed to get the 2015 Western States qualifier.  As always, the despair of race lows fades with the glow of a finish, and by the drive home I was already excited about Rocky Raccoon 100.

Concerning my race strategy, I think if I had a shot of beating my time from 2013, I’d need to have finished the first loop in 6:30 or faster.  Even if I’m running very comfortably, even splits in an ultra are too much to hope for.  Since my mental state was messed up, it was the right move to run conservatively, but if I have a time goal for Bandera 2015 I should bear this in mind.

I do think I raced too much this season.  The temptation is to keep chasing the high of the finish line again and again until one burns out. 

Thanks to Joy, Joyce and the great volunteers for another great race!