Brazos Bend 50

Brazos Bend 50

25 April 2015

I Guess I Am Human After All

I get excited for every race that I do. They’re like opening presents; you can’t wait to open them, but at the same time, you don’t know if you’re gonna like what you see once they’re open. This race was just like that. There was a lot to live up to after last year’s race: I was third overall and finished in six hours forty minutes and felt great almost the entire time. It’s hard to have another perfect race. And I haven’t felt quite so superhuman ever since Rocky Raccoon 50.

Mel and I finishing lap 2

Last year’s 50-miler was when I ran with some random people at the beginning and Melinda Coen just happened to be in that group. We started this year’s race together as well. One of my favorite things about ultra running is talking with people. Shorter races are so fast-paced that it’s kinda hard to talk to people other than to say “On your left!” before you pass them. But ultras are laid back and slow, which almost encourages talking. Conversation pace—If you can’t hold a conversation while running, you’re running too fast. It’s my favorite way to run. And even though Mel and I didn’t talk the whole time, just having someone next to you is such a boost. When you (or they) are feeling like stopping/walking/giving up, they’re right there, not verbalizing anything to you to keep going, but because they’re still going, you feel like you probably can too. I’m pretty sure we shared a number of those back and forth during the race.

There was plenty of rain in the forecast, but I was hoping that the rain gods would realize that we had a race and then push the rain back to Sunday. It drizzled a bit over the first eight miles. Nothing much. I complained that my socks were already soaked (the trails were still dry at this point) and I considered changing them after this first of three laps. The rain gods must have heard me and laughed at what was in store for us runners. We hit the turnaround (11.5 miles) and a little bit later the rain started. And then it got really dark. And then the wind picked up and the clouds opened and it poured on us for about twenty minutes or so. There were a few times I thought I’d start freezing if the wind stayed like that. I heard that it hailed on others, though I was under tree cover while this storm passed over. The rain slowly died off, but the trails were definitely not the same. A lot of what was dry the first time around was puddles for the rest of the race. One section was really muddy, but small baby steps seemed to do the trick in traversing it.

We came across lap one in about 2:18, and I felt ok. Not too good. And not looking forward to two more laps. After a few more miles we saw fellow teammates Jeff Ball and Tracie Akerhielm. They were only doing the 50k, and we 50-milers had an extra two-mile loop that they didn’t have. So we would see them again as they were coming back heading toward the finish. I told Mel that if we had also only signed up for a 50k, then we’d be about an hour away from finishing too. She wondered why she had to be so “bullheaded and always sign up for the longest race.” I laughed because I knew exactly what she was talking about. I’d feel like I was less of a person if I didn’t max out every race. And this is not to say that I look down on those that do the shorter races. I think it’s awesome to see so many people out on the trails instead of sitting around at home watching TV. But I just can’t do less than whatever the longest race is. And when a new local ultra comes up, I have to sign up for it, even if it means that I run 512 race miles in three and a half months. I’ll have to see where I’m at for the bombardment this October will bring (a 100k, a 24-hour timed race, a 100-miler, and another 100-miler).

The second lap wasn’t much better than the first. I still didn’t feel good, but I was able to push along (or splash along) with my teammate. Knowing that you have another 17-mile loop to complete seems rather daunting at this point in a race. It’s best to break it up into much smaller distances. About a mile or two into the last lap, I started feeling much better. I cheered on Mel and everyone else I saw. I told Mel that saying all the silly things to people just brings my spirits up so much. And then I want to cheer on the next guy and the next. And then I realized that cheering others on is really just selfish because, although it may seem like you’re being nice, you’re truly just trying to make yourself feel better so you can finish the blasted race. After another mile, Mel and I said our good-byes and good lucks.

I was now in no-man’s-land—where you see nobody (at least not running your race distance). I didn’t know where anyone was in front of me or behind me. So I just kept running. I had many random thoughts going through my head, and then I saw this lady in front of me, and she kept pointing at me. Then I realized she was pointing past me. “Did you see him?” And I’m thinking, ‘Who?’ So I turned around and saw the 10-foot gator sunbathing right on the side of the trail, about five feet from where I had been, and laughed to myself. Surely I’d have seen him if he was moving.

 Knowing that when I got to the next aid station would mean single digit miles to the finish was great. At the turnaround, I sponged a bunch of ice cold water over my head (it had been rather warm for this entire lap) and felt great as I left. As I came up to a certain corner, I knew that the last aid station was really close and that feeling was coming on strong. At the final aid station, I only took right-side tires (just a water fill-up) and was quickly on my way. I was feeling the best I had all day. Each next spot that I recognized was another lift (where the other trail came in, the bench, crossing the road, etc.). Finally, the windmill. This is where I’ve wanted to be for a long time. As I was about 100 meters from the finish, I saw a kid start running toward me. I was certain it was my oldest son. Come to find out, he said he was faster than me, and my wife told him to go prove it. So he ran out to me and we ran the last 100 meters to the finish.

The muddy puddles were done. Finishing time was 7:46:16; 8^th overall and 5^th male. Thanks to my wife and kids for the love and support. Thanks to #TROT for the camaraderie and great races. And to #TrailToes for keeping a lot of special areas from chaffing. My #UltraSpire handheld was great to have along, especially when the sun came out. #TROT buffs are great at keeping sweat out of your eyes.

Thanks for a fun race, coach

Because in Texas, Four 100-milers Just isn’t Enough for a Grand Slam (pt 3)

From October 2014 through February 2015 (3 ½ months), I raced 512 miles in just over 100 hours. In addition to that, I ran 670 ‘training’ miles between races. I thought I’d interview myself and let you know a bit about the races, why I did it, how I got ready for it, and how you can do it too. After answering the first question, I decided not to post all of it at once. So I will periodically post new segments. Here are the next two questions.



How prepared was your body to run 100 miles when you had just run a 100 mile race 3-4 weeks earlier? 

Since I began my never-take-another-day-off running streak a couple years ago, I made sure that I would at least get out the very next day and “run” at least a mile. The running more resembled a hobble, but I still would go for a mile. The next two days were less painful, and I either completed the mile quicker or I would run 2-3 miles. By Wednesday (race was Saturday), I was just fine running my ‘short loop’ of 5 miles at a more or less normal training run pace. Thursday through Saturday I could easily run my 9+ mile loops without any problems or worries. For two full years I had proceeded in this fashion after running 100-mile races. So when I decided to run one 100-miler per month from the end of October through the end of January (including a 100k and a 50-miler), I didn’t think it’d be too difficult at all. By the following weekend I had always felt back to normal. And there would be a full 3-4 weeks between all of these races (except for the one week recovery from the final 100-miler to the 50-miler). I felt great going into each race and I don’t think that I would’ve done any better had I not ran any other races and only concentrated on that one. The only one that I didn’t feel great at the start was the 50-miler at the very end. 

What crazy race ideas do you have planned?

I’m sure I’ll do this again this coming fall/winter, unless a certain significant other can convince me otherwise. I really enjoyed the whole thing this past year. Maybe not so much in the later miles of each race, but I was always so happy and feeling like I accomplished something cool when I finished. Plus I have to see if I can do all those races and finish in under 100 hours (It took me 100 hours and 30 minutes this time.).

In 2010, before I was a crazy runner, I put my name on a message board for the TIR (Texas Independence Relay). It’s a relay race for 200 miles with teams of up to 12 runners. I had previously ran a RAGNAR race with some friends (the Texas one that only lasted one year) and had heard about the TIR. I received an email and joined an 8-man team. I didn’t know any of the team, but we all had a really fun time. But what caught my attention was that there were two runners who were going to attempt to run the entire relay race as a solo act. Again, I wasn’t crazy, yet, but I knew right there that that was cool and could see myself doing that one day. I now see myself in a position where I have quite a bit of experience running long ultras and want to know how much farther I can run and how much further I can push myself. In March of 2016 I hope to be running the TIR as a solo entrant.

I don’t know if it was from watching Forrest Gump or if I somehow came up with the idea on my own. But once it was there, I knew it would be the best summer vacation ever. I should run across the entire country. There’s no way I could afford it. Just food and renting an RV for two months would cost a fortune. Luckily I’m a teacher, so I wouldn’t need to take time off from work. That’s all I have to say about that. 

There have recently been some interesting races that have sprouted up. One in Tahoe and another in Colorado, possibly a few others. They feature 200 miles (with no loops) in some beautiful mountains. One of the only downsides is the cost just to enter the race. But it has definitely peaked my interest.

Because in Texas, Four 100-milers Just isn’t Enough for a Grand Slam (pt 2)

From October 2014 through February 2015 (3 ½ months), I raced 512 miles in just over 100 hours. In addition to that, I ran 670 ‘training’ miles between races. I thought I’d interview myself and let you know a bit about the races, why I did it, how I got ready for it, and how you can do it too. After answering the first question, I decided not to post all of it at once. So I will periodically post new segments. Here is the second question.

2.  Why did you run all those races?

Five years ago (2011), I finished my first 100-miler and it was truly love at first sight. I heard about Cactus Rose and did that one too, telling my wife that “These two races will be more than enough to satisfy me.” Then a few years passed and I heard about the Tejas 300 and just had to add Bandera 100k to the mix. “Now I’ll be just fine.” And I was—for a couple years. Then some new 100-milers started popping up, and I just couldn’t say no to them. Their tractor beams pulled me in like Yogi Bear to a picnic basket. I was mesmerized upon seeing them online and knew that I had to run them all. Not once did I ever think that I couldn’t do it. I was certain from the beginning that I’d be finishing them all. The short recovery time between the races (3-4 weeks max) was also appealing. My freshman year in high school I recall my coach saying to me one day as we were all out running some 7-mile course through town that I was a machine. During a conversation with a great friend from that team I mentioned this, wondering if that coach ever knew what would become of me.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be someone that can win a big race or even run a 14-hour 100-miler, but I do know that I can go out and run like a machine. I’m not gonna ever win the 100m dash or the 10,000m run. I just don’t think I’ll ever put in the time and effort required to be that fast. And I’m ok with that. I like running for enjoyment. I don’t want it to turn into something that hurts me everyday (instead of just during races). What I can do is run long distances with short recovery periods and still run them competitively.

So why did I run them all? Simply because they were there. If more 100-milers popped up and they weren’t an incredible financial burden, I’d do them all. I enjoy them. They make me who I am. I feel like I can accomplish something that most people can’t even fathom of doing themselves (though I think anyone can complete the distance). The races push me to mental and physical limits that I can’t find anywhere else and I feel stronger after completing them. And I’m sure there are tons more reasons why I did this. They’re probably the same reasons you choose to run your 100-mile races.

Because in Texas, Four 100-milers Just isn’t Enough for a Grand Slam

From October 2014 through February 2015 (3 ½ months), I raced 512 miles in just over 100 hours. In addition to that, I ran 670 ‘training’ miles between races. I thought I’d interview myself and let you know a bit about the races, why I did it, how I got ready for it, and how you can do it too. After answering the first question, I decided not to post all of it at once. So I will periodically post new segments.

1.       Which race was the hardest?

·         Cactus Rose 100

It’s Cactus Rose, and if you’ve ran it before, enough said. If you’ve only looked at it on paper, it doesn’t seem too difficult. There’s only about 7000 feet of elevation gain. It’s basically at sea level and although there are some steep spots, they are short and there are plenty of relatively flat spots. The webpage does mention the race as “A very nasty trail race...where everything stings, scratches, or bites.” It also states that there are “bonus points for blood, cuts, scrapes, and puke.” It may even mention that there are rocks on the course as well as a cactus called sotol along the trails. You might have even read someone’s race report about how tough the course is, thinking “Yeah, but I’m sure I’m tougher than them.” But you have to experience the course yourself before you really know what a toll it will take on you. And I’ll go as far to say that you have to do the 100-miler, because I still feel pretty good after just 50 miles. I’ve never been as sore after a race as I have been after Cactus Rose. Though I must say, it seems I have been less sore in recent years. However, that may be due to forgetting the pain fun I had after a year or two had passed.

·         Big Cedar 100

A very beautiful course. There are wooded sections and open grassland sections. The wooded parts had numerous switchbacks, and it was fun trying to imagine how they’d look from above. This inaugural race was turning out to be a great race with some super weather, in spite of the forecast. But then the rain came. And the race as we had so far experienced it—was over. The wooded sections were still fine and very runnable. But the open grasslands turned into the stickiest shoe-sucking mud I’ve ever had to run through. And by run, I mean trudge, because there probably wasn’t a single person on the course that could run for more than a couple steps before their shoes were three inches higher and they had to stop at every tree along the trail to kick off the mud, only to do it again ten seconds later. What helped me not even consider dropping out was that I was already about 72 miles into the race and I only had a little more than a lap to complete in the mud (whereas others had 2+ laps still to go). I was on pace to finish in about 18-19 hours, but the fun in the mud turned that into a 22-hour finish. I don’t think I had ever been so happy to be done with a race.

·         Brazos Bend 100

A flat race. Literally. There was one “hill” that might have been fifteen feet tall and a tiny valley that was about as far down and up. I had no idea as to how to approach this race. Usually there are hills of some sort that I can walk. But this race was going to be entirely runnable. And this meant going fast—for 100 miles. I wasn’t sure I could competitively complete 100 miles of non-stop running. And it didn’t help that I went into the race wanting a really fast time. The whole race was nice and smooth, except for the beginning of the fourth lap. I just wasn’t there mentally and it took me seven miles to get back into it. A tough course if you’re looking for natural breaks from running. You have to be disciplined to not go out too quickly and burn out (though this is true of all races).

·         Bandera 100k

The whole day was gonna be cold (30°F). I had, for the first time ever, had a slight injury (my right knee was hurting a bit). And I was a few days past having been fake sick (I don’t get sick) with some throat illness. My original goal was to finish in the low 10-hour range. But the conditions just didn’t help with that. My knee had a dull ache almost the entire race, but it never got worse. That made me happy and so I just kept running on it. There were a few spots that were muddy, but it wasn’t anything compared to Big Cedar mud. I kinda laughed as I went through it. The weather was cold, but not so cold that I would freeze. I just had to keep moving and not let the cold set in. Upon finishing, I quickly found a heater, some clean and dry clothes, some food, and headed out. Not the best conditions for a fast race, but the course was good enough. And even though the park is full of sotol and rocks, somehow running only 62 miles through it all just doesn’t faze me much.

·         Rocky Raccoon 100

This is my favorite race. It’s nearby our house. We’ve camped there numerous times. I have the course memorized. And it was my fifth time running it. I always get excited when it’s time for Rocky. The only hard part is that it’s five laps. And sometimes it’s hard to run yet another lap. But I made an effort to prepare myself mentally as I completed each lap so I would not hit a low point at the beginning of the next lap. I might be biased in saying this, but this was probably the easiest of all the races.

·         Rocky Raccoon 50

This was just a fifty miler, but recovery time was limited to only one week. I needed to do this race. Not so I could show off, but so that I could be better mentally prepared for what lie in store for me come this fall when I attempt to run Cactus Rose 100 followed six days later by Big Cedar 100. But back to this race. I wanted to run this race in seven hours. My first lap was right on schedule for that pace. A few miles into the second lap and I knew that that pace was gone and it was replaced by a slower let’s-just-make-it-to-the-end pace. There were a few times when my legs/tendons really hurt, but I was still running the whole course (more or less). I wasn’t too happy to start my last lap, but 8 miles into that lap and I was starting to get happy (and teary-eyed at moments). I was walking more than I wanted to, but I was still moving and I had a great friend with me to keep me company and a lot happier than if I’d have been alone. I don’t know if my mind set aside 50 miles of energy for me, but I was definitely out of gas when I crossed the finish. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. And I was done. That race hurt the most.

·         So, which race was the hardest? Normally I’d say Cactus Rose without a second thought. But I think that the mud at Big Cedar may have edged it out this time.