I bit off more than I could chew…

Texas summers are notorious for heat, humidity and unrelenting torture for runners.  This summer has been slightly different as we’ve had the luxury of weather in the mid-90s for most of June and July.  But, like all Texas summers the heat eventually found it’s way into disrupting the hours between 9am and 7pm on many of our August days.  Saturday Texas really came into full bloom…with a high of 103 degrees.

I’ll start my story by saying that I just don’t do well in the heat as a runner.  I slow WAY down.  I typically need about 3 times the water because I sweat like a pig in heat and I get overheated fairly quickly as compared to some of my running friends.  This caused me to be EXTREMELY lazy about specific training for a race this long all summer and I knew I wasn’t prepared like I was in the past.

I had been talking about trying out one of the Captain Karl’s night races for some time and despite my rationalizations about why I couldn’t do the first two, I was fresh out of excuses for the third one.  So, knowing that anything I came up with would just be transparently saying I was being lazy…I signed up for Colorado Bend 60K.

I hadn’t raced since the Hell’s Hills 50K which was in early April and that race went REALLY well.  I find the more I race the more anxious those experiences make me because there is always the fear of performing up to a new standard and breaking thru another ceiling.

My nervousness was palpable all day long.  The Captain Karl’s races are night races so I was feeling somewhat out of my element (having to mull over what I was about to do all day rather than get up and be running before my brain realized what was happening).  It definitely put me in a quiet place.  I didn’t say much the entire drive to the park or before the race…even with friends at the race.  I felt bad about that…

7pm came around and we were off.  I had discussed the course with Joe Prusaitis of Tejas Trails and was a little nervous about the first 3 miles.  After about a half mile of smooth Jeep road we were headed for a long climb up a rocky, singletrack trail to the top of a ridge.  The first aid station was only 3 miles away but it was going to be a tough 3 miles to start the race.  I had started out with the lead group (which I’ve found tends to challenge me to find a good rhythm and pace early in the race) and soon realized with the tight singletrack I would need to keep pace in order not to hold others up.

Rolling into the first station I was feeling really good.  I had managed to stay in a tight group with the 3rd, 4th and 5th place runners and thru some gnarly terrain too…lots of roots, rocks and tree cover to navigate.

Being tall soon proved to be a major disadvantage and I started to worry about how long I’d have to endure branches hitting me in the head.  Even when I did see them I couldn’t bend down low enough to avoid them completely.  So I ended up expending extra calories to duck over and over again only to be “blessed” by several scrapes and bruises all over my head anyway.

The next few stations were a blur…partially due to my stubbornness to relax for a couple minutes and gather myself.  I was starting to rush thru them and would just take my already prepped water bottle (thanks to my amazing wife, Courtney) on my way to the next section.  But I still felt good and wanted to capitalize as much as I could on that energy.

Soon I was out of the trees and on to more rocky sections of the trail.  Things had opened up and my head was no longer taking a pounding from branches but the sharp rocks were starting to bruise my feet.  Just before the race I chose to lose the racing shoes for some heavier training shoes I’ve been using on my hill training days.  I quickly became VERY grateful for the decision as the rocks were nearly as plentiful as Bandera!

Just when it seemed the rocks would never end we were back on a fast Jeep road right next to the river…this was really the only time you could open up the throttle and make up time so I did.  The pace felt great and it was a welcome release to be able to stretch my stride out and feel the wind on my face as I ran a faster.  In the back of my head I wondered how much time I was really making up since everyone else was probably loving this part.

Then…..another climb…the other side of the ridge we ascended in the first 3 miles was right in front of me.  I had to make it up and over before heading back down the 3 miles to the halfway point.  This would be my biggest challenge having not really trained any long distances and minimally preparing for hill climbs.  It would prove to be a significant factor in my performance (in addition to my dehydration).

As I reached roughly the mid-point on the hill I hear a familiar voice.  It was one I hoped I wouldn’t have to hear until much later in the race.  Ty had caught up to me…and he was feeling good.  His word were encouraging as always (a quiet “C’mon Joe”) but the voices in my head told me I was under-performing.  I repeated it to myself in my head with frustrated self-judgement, knowing that my preparation was lacking.  Ty was running well still and my speed was quickly starting to dwindle as the pain in my legs (which I hadn’t adapted to with training) limited my endurance.

Up and over the hill, I came into the halfway mark starting to feel defeated.  I was dehydrated, in pain and the frustration of getting so competitive when I knew I was not ready to race competitively was getting into my head.  I mumbled something about not thinking I was going to make it as I left for the second loop.

Those next 3 miles were pretty awful.  I climbed the ridge mostly with power hikes and obscenities.  The Darkness had come early this time around.  It was going to be a long, laboring battle to overcome it and I was feeling drained physically and emotionally.  I got into the aid station and immediately sat down, unable to move from the excrutiating pain in my legs.  I must have drank half a gallon of water at that station.

After what seemed like at least 10 minutes (and 3 more people passing me as I debated even going on) I dragged myself back out onto the trail.  I didn’t even try to run until I had walked a good 1/4 mile.  With the level of dehydration, cramps setting in and now HUGE stomach aches I was afraid to challenge my body.  I eventually started to run again and found my long stint at the aid station had helped considerably.  After a few minutes I quickly caught back up with my passers and was back in my mid-race position.

The next couple of aid stations were welcomed as my spirits started to slowly creep back up.  I was feeling ok but not good…I had accepted my fate (after some reminding words from Courtney about running MY RACE and not worrying about who was passing me).  The mile long climb before the fast, rolling Jeep road next to the river quickly extinguished my newly fanned flames though.  As I had mentioned to Courtney before leaving the last station…I was broken…just a little earlier than I had expected.  I did manage to pull myself together to run the Jeep road and quickly started gaining ground on the runner who had passed me at the last aid station.  Momentarily I would see glows of light from his headlamp as I rounded a corner and then they would vanish again as he did.

At the end of the Jeep road the glow of light had become a bright beacon for me.  I had caught up to the other runner…over the course of 5 miles but still…his dark shadowy outline was now totally visible!  If I just pushed hard up the hill to the top of the ridge I might catch him.  Right after having that thought, a cramp put me on my knees.  I rubbed it for a minute or so then started power hiking (err…limping) up the hill.  Incredibly I managed to catch up and pass the other runner just as we crested the ridgeline.  The cramp was starting to subside and there were just 3 miles to go!

The last aid station was something I was looking very forward to.  I needed water, I needed Heed (I was now carrying both, using two water bottles in a desperate attempt to recover my hydration), I needed food and most importantly I needed encouragement.  Stumbling in to the station I got all that from a jovial duo of volunteers that reset my attitude.  The jokes and kind words had me on a high and I blazed down the other side of the ridge toward the Jeep road.

As I navigated the switchbacks on the hill I started to think about how well the runner I just passed may be doing?  Maybe he was feeling good because of the last 3 miles to go and he was just behind me?  I started to look behind me…trying to catch a glimpse of that faint headlamp light again.  Only this time with worry.  After a few looks back I turned around to see an armadillo sitting right in the middle of the trail.  We both squealed and luckily he didn’t jump straight up into my path but just scuttled away instead.  That would have HURT on a rocky, dark trail with 2 miles to go!

As I turned each corner on the road I kept looking for a faint hint at the campsite…just a glimpse would keep me pushing forward…I had forgotten that it didn’t really come into view until about 1/10 of a mile before the finish.  But it finally did…I ran thru the chute completely drained of energy, strength…even emotion as I crossed the timing mat and walked straight to a chair.

I had never wanted to be back and SLEEP so badly in my life.  After 7 hours and 31 minutes I had finished the race and overcome some of my worst, longest lasting “ultra demons” ever.