Cactus Rose 100 Mile Race Report

My only prized possession from my military days is this poster - a before-and-after satellite picture of some of our crew's handy-work from a B-1 mission I flew in Iraq.  The buildings were being used as a factory for IED / roadside bombs.

Well-managed chaos - goal of any ultramarathoner

I just realized the mission was almost exactly 10 years ago, and I hadn’t thought about until I randomly glanced at it this morning to notice the date… but there’s a connection to ultra-running here.  I used many JDAMs (GPS-guided weapons) on the buildings – JDAMs are one of the ways we take something inherently uncontrollable (giant explosions from thousands of pounds of TNT), and mitigate the risk to surrounding areas by controlling exactly where, and when, it detonates.  This rings true to me for ultramarathons.  Unpredictable things will happen, you’ll have really low lows, and be in a lot of pain.  But you can plan for it, adjust your mindset, and be in control of how much those giant explosions will affect your race.  I am still learning to do this better – maybe a D+ student now!

Cactus 100 is held at Hill Country State Natural Area (HCSNA), the same location as Bandera 100k, except that they “made every attempt to avoid what is flat to find what is nasty.  It was built more for entertainment than speed.”  It’s also an unsupported race, meaning no aid station volunteers, food, etc – you have to take care of yourself.  4 x 25-mile loops, about 3k’ of rugged elevation gain each loop.  Julie and I decided to sleep in the car due to the 5am start.

The Subaru is big enough to sleep in.  If you're 4'11"

The first couple of hours of the race started out nice and easy in the cool (35 degree!) darkness.  Matt Smith, Michael Lewis and I yo-yo’d back and forth until Boyles aid station, around mile 20.  I did not have any drop bags at Ya-ya or Boyles, so I just signed my name at Boyles and forged ahead, gapping them by 2-3 minutes, and finishing loop 1 in 4:18.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, the leader (Phillip) had gone through 10 minutes faster (I probably thought he was in the relay).

I caught up to Phillip, whom I’d actually met at J&J 100k, as we were descending Sky Island toward Equestrian (~mile 34).  I hopped around him and started careening downhill, as is my usual practice, but he stuck to me.  We spoke a mile later, and he said he got caught up following a 50-mile runner in lap 1, leading to his fast start; a few miles later he fell off, and so I ran alone the rest of the race.  Lap 2 was faster for me, about 4:13, hitting the 50-mile mark in 8:32 or so.  I really felt very comfortable and in control, thanks to the cool weather.

The “washing machine” format of the loops (you reverse the direction of whatever loop you just finished) was really helpful – after mile 51, I could see that Matt was now more than 2 miles behind, which told me I just needed to calm down and not do anything stupid.  Later, Julie and I arrived at the Nachos aid station at the same time, from different directions.  She let me know she was probably going to drop at 50, which was certainly understandable – Tahoe 200, followed by J&J 100k, emotional toll of my annulment process, and then she recently donated blood… amazing that she even made it that far (although this is Julie we’re talking about!).  I was disappointed for her but happy that she would be able to crew me on the last lap, which proved hugely valuable.  I ran loop 3 in 4:31 (13:03 total for 75 miles) and quickly asked if they could look up the CR.

PC: Julie Koepke

ugghhhh, loop 4.  At mile 80, I saw Julie who fulfilled my request and let me know what Steve Moore’s course record was: 17:34 - disappointingly fast!  That meant I could not slow down, even though it was starting to get dark – I think I turned my headlamp back on at mile 81.  I kept making a good-faith effort though, getting to Equestrian (mile 84.5-ish) about 14:50.  Still doable, I thought.  Unfortunately, several things happened after that.  I was getting “corneal edema” in my right eye (apparently a common ultramarathon thing) basically making my right eye blind.  So long, depth perception!  Beyond that, I was blowing up anyway.  I ran pretty dang hard for 85 miles, seemingly with little consequence, and was getting my reality check.  So now I’m temporarily blind, tripping and falling on my face every 10 minutes, and have rubber legs that refused to climb any more hills. 

In hindsight, this doesn't look so bad

I had to aim my headlamp straight down and even then, couldn’t really resolve what I was seeing – just spent the next few hours stepping on hazy blobs.  Still, my attitude soured a lot more than it should have.  Bad Joe.  By the time I got to Nachos (mile 91), I was just hoping for sub-18.  By the time I got to Ya-ya (mile 95), I was just hoping to finish without breaking any bones.

In mile 99 is the final climb up Lucky’s Peak.  I climbed it, descended it, then in my dazed/blinded state, thinking a lap 1/3 flag was meant for me, climbed Lucky’s again and descended it the other way.  I stubbornly pressed on, 90% sure I’d made a mistake, but thinking I could somehow will my bad decision into a good one.  Finally, after about a mile of trying to impose my will on the geography of HCSNA, I did a 180 back to Lucky’s to complete the ‘triple.’  Chris Russell kindly let me know I was not even close to the first person to make this blunder, which made me feel a little better.  This time, at the bottom, I scanned around with my good eye and finally saw the happy path.  Not long after that came a 2-person search party.  I saw Rich, who was worried and brought me some coats – there’s just no way I could ever repay the kindness of Rich and Jeanie, and all the Rockhoppers and amazing people in the trail running community.  Of course, Julie was there too, and ran me in the last mile.  Shortly after joining up, I did my final face-plant of the night and asked her to go behind me; this somehow made it worse, so I put her in front of me and that was just what the doctor ordered.  She called out every rock, root and divot until we made it.  Only did 2 extra miles when it was all said and done, so 102 gnarly Cactus miles in a time of 18:46. 

Award and Sub-24 hour buckle

Straight into the lodge from there where Tejas medical pro Becky gave me some eye drops and put me at ease that, no, I would not become permanently blind (in fact it went away a few hours later).  I regretted not stopping at the Rockhopper tent to thank everyone, but Julie had everything loaded up for me and I was feeling pretty crappy on several different levels at that point anyway.

Self-help notes / lessons learned:

1.       These 100s really are eating contests, Walmsley is right.  I tried to eat a gel every 30 minutes and if I was even 10 minutes late, I could feel the blood sugar drop.  At the end, I had to eat even more often (I have a pretty fast metabolism to begin with, which helps give me that enviable emaciated / gaunt look).

2.       More of a lesson NOT learned from J&J – body glide.  Need body glide.  For the love of God, don’t forget again.

3.       If you think you’ve got the fitness, going out hard is probably ok, within reason (Cactus was definitely reasonable), if it’s not hot.  You’re going to suffer and positive split anyway, no matter how easy you take it initially.  Race that $%!&.

4.       Let people help.

5.       That race is hard.  DNF rate > 50%, only 3 sub-24’s among 40+ entrants.  Do the 50 next time.