Brutally Beautiful

 Cactus Rose is one of, if not the toughest races in Texas.  Runners chose between 50 and 100 miles of the toughest terrain The Great State has to offer.

The Race Doc begins: "WELCOME… to the Texas Hill Country: where everything Stings, 

Scratches, or Bites. The name CACTUS ROSE seems so appropriate for this 

event. Where Pain accompanies Beauty."

Travis and I looking extra chipper for 4 AM

If you have never seen the start of an ultra marathon...try to imagine a group of 6 year old kids coming in from Trick-or-treating on Halloween without any restraints on the sugar intake.  You see, ultra runners, when training for a race, generally run anywhere from 50 to 100 miles a week.  Sometimes more.  But a couple weeks before the race...we taper.  That means we drastically reduce our weekly mileage (in order to conserve energy for the race) and the result is a bunch of obsessively healthy freaks with more energy than they have had for MONTHS.  It's great.

For years I had dreamed of this moment.  My first 50 mile race.  I had done smaller Ultras before and sure I knew there were bigger fish to fry and hills to climb but for the time being...this was it.  I was entering a new world in the running community.  A world that most runners don't even dare to admit exist, much less attempt.  But here I was shivering in the dark with a head lamp on at 4:30 in the morning.

Mom and Dad made the much acknowledged sacrifice of arising from a warm bed at the obscene hour of 3:00 AM to drive us to the starting line.  Travis, my smart and speedy brother, shared a PBJ with me as we drove.  He would be enduring the next 12 - 14 hours with me.  I didn't know if he already knew or not, but after about 25 miles...I tend to develop something of an attitude problem.

 The first twenty-five miles passed in relative ease.  The terrain was difficult, as expected, but somehow running in the dark seemed to minimize the degree of difficulty.  We had covered 15 miles by the time the sun came up. I was grateful for the cooler temperatures (the high that day was in the low 60's) because rattle snakes don't come out much when its cold.

Sotol Cactus

Sotol Cacti covered the trail in some places to the point that it was like running through needles.  There was nothing to do but grit your teeth and take the plunge.  There was blood, as promised.  The trail was rocky. And Travis and I focused on making Relentless Forward Progress, one step at a time.  

Blood trickled down our legs after running through the cacti

We had told our wives (who would be assuming the role of crew chiefs for the day) that they should try to sleep in, enjoy the hotel breakfast and let the kids take it easy for as much of the morning as possible before coming to the race site.  We would be fine, we told them, for the first few miles.  But we made better time than we anticipated and by mile 25 (half way), I could tell Travis was anxious to see some support and some of the food they would bring.

We came through the trees into the aid station at mile 30.  Neither of us said it but we were on the verge of trouble.  One of the most critical aspects of ultra running is eating enough calories to keep your body moving for hours at a time.  I guesstimate that my body burns 1000 calories for every 8 miles I run.  That means that at this point, I had smoked almost 4000 calories and even though my head was a little fuzzy, I was pretty sure the peanut butter sandwich I shared with Trav that morning was a little under that.

Much to our relief, as we came out of the trees and into the clearing that housed our water stop, there stood Mindi and Jenny along with the kids and Mom and Dad.  It was one of many high points for the day.  They came with food and gatoraid which we gladly accepted.  We visited with them for several minutes.  Mindi commented, "I like this! Usually when we see you at aid stations, you're in and out so fast we don't get more than a few words in.  You're actually talking with us here."
I replied, "On other races, this would be the finish line....not the halfway mark."

Hobbled.
Not a word I usually like to use when I describe my running but in this case, it is probably the most accurate.

I hobbled.

I hobbled into the aid station, sat down at a table and grimaced.

It sounds so...lame...so unadventurous...so everything I hope to NOT be.  Nevertheless, it is the truth.  I hobbled into the aid station, sat down and grimaced.  On any other day I would be elated to know that I had run 35 miles.  Today, however, all I could think about was the next 15 long and arduous miles that lay ahead.

I sat and grimaced as those around me scurried about.  Questions were asked such as, "What can we do for you?" and "What would you like to eat?"  I couldn't really answer because my mind was occupied by two more pressing concerns: (1.)  Don't throw up; and (2.)  Don't freak out.  If I could achieve these two task (which was no small feat), the rest would sort itself out.

This was the most difficult point of the race.  My knees were aching with every step...especially going down the steep hills.  While most ultra runners chose to walk up the hills to conserve energy I was forced to walk down the hills and run up them.

Travis being a good Dad after running 35 miles

We came to fork in the trail and a sign that said "Start/Finish Line" with an arrow pointing to the right.  We were close.  I have always been a believer in big finishes so I took off sprinting as fast as my exhausted body would allow.  I sprinted for what felt like a half mile (it wasn't nearly that far but it felt much worse).  It's just around the next corner, I would tell myself, keep this pace until the next corner and you'll see the finish line.  But it never seemed to come.  Just when I thought I could hold the sprint no more, the trees cleared and I could see the colored flags lining the way toward the finish line.  With Travis right beside me, we charged...

Travis had previously done a 50 mile race and he was trying to beat his previous time.  We did it by about 5 minutes.

12 hours 48 minutes.  A PR for guess who!!!

I could not have done it without Travis.  We was a great support and a good companion on the trail.  Nor could I have done it without the support of my family and parents.  Everytime I look at my CR 50 Medal, I think of stotal cacti, rocks, steep hills, aching feet and knees, and I thank God for the good people who got me through it.