Tahoe 200: Lessons Learned

Here's part 2 in my Tahoe 200 race recap series:

Lessons learned from this race, that could be applied to future long adventures . . . although let's never do another 200-mile race ever again . . .

1. Try out your shoes in advance.  I have used my size 9.5 Hoka Challenger ATRs for a long time, and I've loved them.  So a week before the race, I bought another pair (new model year), as well as a half-size bigger pair, to allow for foot swelling.  And then I wore them for the first time at the race. Hey! Stop judging me, Judgymcjudgealot!  I know how stupid that is.  Anyways, let's just call this a lesson learned, and move on.

2. Inov-8 Debris Gaiters are excellent.  Just excellent.

3. A bivy sack is a must.  I used the TACT Bivvy, $19.97.  It's like a space blanket, but in sleeping bag form.  When it was a damp 40+ degrees at night, I could crawl inside it and get a refreshing 10-minute nap without freezing.  Warning: you'll never get it to fit back inside the cute little bag it comes in.  Don't even bother trying.

4. Carrying rain pants (and a rain jacket) in my pack was a lifesaver.  They kept me warm and dry.

5. Bring a spare bladder, or at least a spare nozzle.  My nozzle sprung a leak, and despite Joe's best taping efforts, it could not be stopped.  I had no backup, so I had to arrange my tube so that it stayed above the level of my bladder; otherwise the water would leak out, making me both cold and wet and dehydrated.

6.  If you're coughing up phlegm, wheezing, and having trouble catching your breath on climbs, you might have pneumonia or pulmonary edema, like the medical director warned me when he heard me coughing . . . or you might be totally fine.  Best to just keep moving and not think about it.  Worrying about it just cost me time, stress, and a couple mental breakdowns.

7.  It's incredibly hard on your pacer/crew to only have one pacer/crew.  Joe is freaking amazing -- starting at mile 88, he would run an out and back, pacing me 5 or so miles, and then run back to the previous aid station, drive the car to the next aid station, crew me there, and begin again.  Who else could do something like that?  It would obviously be better to have a couple crew members, so one person didn't have to do Superman-like double duty like that.  But Joe showed that it can be done!

8.  You can do a 200-mile race on less than ideal base mileage.  I averaged only 47.3 miles per week in July, and 39.62 miles per week in August.  I have had consistent higher mileage for years, which undoubtedly helped, but I was not at all confident in my fitness going into Tahoe.  I was relieved to find that the mix of jogging, hiking, and slogging was doable with my current level of fitness.

Tahoe 200 recap: Surprises

Since the Tahoe 200 took me 91 hours (3 sunrises!  4 sunsets!), I feel like writing more than one race report.  So I'll think of this as more of a series of race reports, to include:

• Surprises
• Lessons Learned
• Detailed Race Report, by Segment

Surprises

I had no idea what to expect from this race.  I got some good advice, like the importance of gaiters (from Katie Graff) and the importance of sleep (from Ed Brown), and Joe helped me predict the time between aid stations, etc.  But still, as I lined up at the start, I turned to Joe and said, "What have I gotten myself into?"  

Here were the biggest surprises for me from the race:

1. It was impossible to get any sleep during the first hundred miles.  I tried to sleep on a couple different occasions -- at Sierra-at-Tahoe, mile 63, and at Armstrong, mile 88 -- but just laid there, unable to get it done.  I kept thinking, "Sleep would be good.  But I'm just wasting time lying here, not sleeping.  I might as well just get up and keep going."  It wasn't until the Heavenly aid station, mile 103, that I was able to sleep.

2. It was so easy to sleep later on in the race.  Once I'd slept at Heavenly, I could easily step to the side of the trail and take a 10-minute power nap.  I'd wake up feeling fairly refreshed and able to continue, at a slightly faster pace than prior to the nap.

3. I did not have a gel until around mile 190.  I was able to eat real foods (burgers, sandwiches, quesadillas, breakfast tacos) until then.  I only added in gels at Joe's prompting, because I was struggling so much and starting to really fade towards the end, and gels would be quick energy.

4. I thought I wouldn't be able to handle the idea of being out there four nights.  In ultras, nights can be a struggle, and sunrises can be a big energy boost.  I like running at night, but dealing with four nights in a row seemed overwhelming.  Yet, I actually said to Joe at one point on night #3, "This is the last full night!  And then just one partial night tomorrow.  That's not so bad!"  

5. I thought my whole body would be trashed.  My thinking was, if I have soreness and pains during a 50-mile race, surely the pain will be 4 times as much during a 200-mile race.  But actually, during a 200, you're doing a lot of hiking, and the pace isn't as intense as during a shorter race, so I actually had less pain in a lot of ways.  I had no knee pain, quad soreness, or back pain.  Only sore calves and foot pain.  Much, much foot pain.  

I guess one final, post-race surprise is how long it's taking me to stop feeling "out of it."  This morning -- two full days after I finished the race -- I woke up thinking I was still in the race.  It took me at least two minutes of questioning myself, "Is this bed just an aid station?  Do I have to get up and keep moving?  Or did I finish?" before I remembered that I did, in fact, finish the race already. Hopefully taking this time to process the race through writing will help me get my head back on straight.

around mile 128, enjoying a picnic lunch with Joe

2nd Annual Whataburger Challenge: Race Recap

Second Annual Whataburger Challenge

Labor Day – September 4, 2017

San Antonio, TX

Race Directors’ Race Report

Over the last few months, several email and Facebook invitations went out to several hundred people for the 2^nd annual Whataburger Challenge.  In the end, there were 9 participants.  Nine.  Nine people were brave enough to attempt this monstrous task, which came with a high probability of failure and near certainty of suffering and intestinal misery.  Four of the nine participated last year and for some reason decided it was a good idea to come back; however, missing among these were the top 3 from last year.  This year there would be a brand new podium.

Calm before the storm

Mike Ruhlin, of Austin TX, was the clear favorite after dominating the Taco Cabana Challenge in May.  But hopes were high among the local runners that he could be upset.  A couple of race-day surprise entries included “The Sherriff” Porter and his teenage son Joe – the youngest-ever WB Challenge competitor.  On the other end of the spectrum were “Bleeding” Don Flynn and “Wimpy” Rich Mihalik, both in their 60s, the oldest-ever WB Challenge competitors, and as competitors soon learned, forces to be reckoned with.

Around 8am, the Whataburger manager requested a photo-op with the group, the RDs issued a few last-minute instructions, and the gluttony began.  “Sweet” Chris Russell co-opted the strategy of last year’s winner, Brian “Banjo McNaturepants” Ricketts, putting the fries inside the burger to maximize efficiency; this paid off, as Russell was 2^nd to leave the first store.  But it was Scott “Rabber’s Delight” Rabb that headed out first, much to the surprise of fellow competitors.  Joe “Schmo” Schmal was right behind Russell, followed by favorite Ruhlin.  Koepke and the others were soon on the road as well.

Schmal caught up to Rabb after about 3 miles, but Rabb had a shortcut up his sleeve and broke off early to gain an advantage.  Unfortunately he didn’t look at a map before doing this and it cost him a few extra tenths of a mile, allowing Schmal to show up 1^st in line at WB 2.

Imagine Schmo's frustration, stuck in this line!

Schmal lost his advantage, though, when he found himself stuck in a long line.  To add insult to injury, the kitchen crew mistakenly put cheese on his double-meat burger.  Schmal would go on to pitifully blame the cheese for his undoing later.  Rabb quickly regained his lead and was first to leave again.  Ruhlin plowed through his double very quickly and was soon on Rabb’s heels.  Russell was 4^th in the restaurant and politely brought his pools of sweat outside for a picnic with pacer Sheila.  Upon arrival,  “Wimpy” Rich interestingly went straight to his crew vehicle where his loyal wife Jeanie offered support.  He seemed to arrive refreshed and ready to tackle the next 2 patties.  Flynn, the other “Grand Master” runner, also looked surprisingly relaxed and ready to eat.  Impressively, all but 2 runners were able to put away the #2 combo this year, showing the relative strength of this field.  Young Joe Porter and the Habanero Kid were forced to put their uneaten contents in the bag-of-shame to bring to the last restaurant for weigh-in.

Rabb, Schmal and Ruhlin arrived 1-2-3 at the third Whataburger; Ruhlin took a wrong turn on the way, earning some bonus distance over the 8.0 total miles involved in this contest.  But things took a drastic turn at this pivotal restaurant.  Rabb was continually leaving the restaurant, trying to walk off the discomfort and nausea caused by the 2 pounds of grease in his gut.  Schmal could only take tiny kid-sized bites of the man-sized triple-meat burger, only able to get them down by swallowing them like pills with a gulp of water.  Flynn arrived, followed by Russell, who was done – he declared that ordering a #3 would be a waste of money.  But then Porter and Mihalik arrived and ordered their #3.  When Russell saw Porter order, he knew that he had to pull his credit card out to avoid being one-upped by the Sherriff.  To his credit, he was able to eat enough to edge out the Sherriff by a tenth of a pound.

Meanwhile, outside of the store, the Rabb chronicles continued.  A small crowd gathered to see what would happen.  Finally, came the sound heard ‘round the world – Rabb unleashed a firehose of half-digested bread, meat and fries right next to videographer (and 2016 WB Challenge 3^rd place finisher) Tom Bowling’s car.  A literal reversal of fortunes for the race frontrunner.

Wait for it . . . 

Back inside, Schmal was giving up, as Ruhlin was finishing his last fry – the Austinite had again captured an eat-and-run title on the mean streets of San Antonio.  He received a custom plaque, carved by Rockhopper and local artist Edward Sousa.  But the contest was not over.  Flynn and Mihalik were slowly but steadily downing that last burger, bit by bit.  As the clock struck 11am, both men had surged ahead of the younger competitors’ totals and were 2^nd and 3^rd, respectively, after the weigh-in.

Another successful eat-and-run challenge!  Special thanks to film crew Tom Bowling and Alex Collado.

Podium L to R: Don Flynn (2nd), Mike Ruhlin (1st), Rich Mihalik (3rd)
Wooden plaque hand-carved by Edward "The Hair" Sousa

Official Results

Place	Runner	Time / Food remaining
1	Mike “The Ringer” Ruhlin	2:20
2	“Bleeding” Don Flynn	.36 lbs
3	“Wimpy” Rich Mihalik	.51 lbs
4	Joe “Schmo” Schmal	.63 lbs
5	“Sweet” Chris Russell	.90 lbs
6	Chris “The Sherriff” Porter	.99 lbs
7	Scott “Rabber’s Delight” Rabb	{puke @ WB 3}
8	Joe “The Deputy” Porter	.46 lbs @ WB 2
9 (F1)	Julie “Habanero Kid” Koepke	.83 lbs @ WB 2

Official Whataburger Challenge 2017 video, produced by Tom "Wrong Way" Bowling: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWIS5Nkw_QM&t=2s

Joe Schmal and Julie Koepke, RDs

He Said: Joe's account of Bighorn 100

My first 100-miler has to have an accompanying race report, pretty sure that's a law of some kind.  I've resisted the urge to read Julie's so far, so that I won't start "remembering" things differently!

I think she signed up for Bighorn a long time ago - I barely remember her forwarding me her registration email and asking me if I wanted to come along.  I don't think she was actually expecting me to sign myself up for the race, but that's what I did.  For some reason...  The most I'd run in one stretch was 66 miles (thanks to a wrong turn on a 100k last year that added 4 bonus miles), but that was a much flatter course.  I didn't fully appreciate or recognize how difficult this was going to be…at all.

I typically under-prepare for races, and this was no exception.  When we checked into the Airbnb in Dayton, WY, there were 2 hours remaining to get any drop bags to the staff in Sheridan.  So that's when I dumped out my stuff and started thinking about what needs to go in a drop bag.  I settled on: an extra jacket, couple of protein bars, batteries, amino acid powder to dump in my bottles (great placebo effect), and some other crap I knew I'd never use.  That night I thought of several things I wish I would've put in there, but it was too late...didn't end up mattering.

The 10am start meant a lot of sitting around; I think everyone was ready to go after the race brief, but there was a 1.5-hour gap.  The race brief itself included the word "treacherous" more frequently than a Scooby Doo episode, and it almost seemed like they were trying to scare people.  Luckily, I never get nervous before long races, and knowing Julie and I were planning to stick together the whole time put me even more at ease.  She has a calming effect in pretty much any situation, and I love when we run together - we share a similar sense of humor, but we also never feel pressure to fill up every second with talk/chatter when we run, which is nice...and who has 33 hours’ worth of discussion topics anyway?  I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing stroll in the mountains to check off my first 100-miler.

Starting near the back of the pack was a new experience.  Once you get to singletrack, you only go as fast as the slowest person, out of the 300 people in front of you.  Of course, logically, I knew there was no rush, and Julie is a pro at letting people race ahead and mowing them down later.  But I still couldn't stand it.  Why are we walking downhill???  It was mile 3 and we were still sometimes just standing there, waiting for the traffic jam to clear.  After maybe 6-8 miles, we were finally determining our own pace.  Julie led the way, and I followed, as is our practice for singletrack.  The first 7 miles have almost a 4k' net increase in elevation - not easy, but we made it up in good shape.

Mile 30 (Sally's footbridge, big aid station) is where my only drop bag was.  There is some nice downhill in the preceding few miles - I think this is probably the only time I had more than 100 meters separation from Julie all day, as I played around a bit ahead on the gravity-assisted sections here…FUN!

From 30 to 48 is a long, gradual uphill.  This is also about where is started pouring rain.  For the next 11 hours.  So much mud.  I had the chance to pace my friend April at Bandera 100k back in January 2015 (anyone who was there will well remember the muddy conditions).  This mud was much more slippery and shoe-sucky than even that day.  At one point, Julie's shoe came completely off, lodged in mud.  At another point, there was a hill where I wasn't even sure we'd ever make it to the top!  Started sliding backwards and had to grab on to some trees to make forward progress.  It reminded me of my pitiful attempt at XC skiing back in December - there was one hill I eventually had to just crawl up on my knees in the snow, or we probably never would've gotten home that day.

Finally, we made it to the turnaround at Jaws (mile 48) sometime after midnight, and it was crazy with activity inside that tent.  Most people that I spoke to after the race that DNF'd, did it right there at Jaws.  So warm inside, volunteers were so helpful, and it was freezing outside thanks in part to the 9k’ elevation and constant rain.  Julie headed to the port-o-potty to change clothes so I just hung out in the tent to admire the chaos.  I saw Rob, who had just shuttled Jake and Edward out of there.  Everyone seemed to be doing ok according to him, and Julie and I were still at least a couple hours ahead of cutoff, joking around the entire time.  Physically, I was totally fine and having the time of my life, despite the conditions.  Now just head back down, this should be the easy part...

Well, the mud was getting ridiculous.  Julie and I stayed mostly upright in the first half, but were starting to spend more and more time on our butts.  As we approached Sally's again, entering the 18th, then 19th, then 20th hours, my attitude started to turn a bit; I think at this point I was still positive outwardly, but a lot quieter.  The mud was not funny anymore.  I also noticed it was doing quite a bit of damage to our pace.  We were starting to put down some 26-27 minute miles, and you need to average right around 3mph (20-minute miles) to finish before the 34-hour cutoff.  Our 2.5-hour pad had shrunk to 45 minutes.  Somewhere around here we crossed one of those “treacherous” bridges and I wondered silently whether anyone had fallen in yet, off the slippery planks.  No more than 10 minutes after that, Larry came passing by and after we greeted each other, he nonchalantly said, “Well, I fell off the bridge back there.” There ya go.

I finally let Julie know I was getting worried about the pace and said we wouldn’t make it unless we started going faster.  Somehow she immediately, almost frantically, increased the pace by ~5 min/mile.  I'd just calculated that we'd be really close to getting cut off at the mile 82.5 aid, and to be honest, I was looking forward to quitting there.  As Julie somehow got us back on pace, which was borderline uncomfortable for me since it was nearly impossible to actually “run” in that mud, I got even more grouchy.  After mile 66, the 2nd time at Sally's aid, I was improving slightly, but knew the worst was yet to come.

Going up to the next aid station was tough – 2k’ climb over 4 miles.  One of those four miles had half the climb (1000’) in it - took us 35 minutes for that one mile.  Fortunately, there was daylight now and you could sometimes make slightly better decisions about where to place your feet to slip around less often.

We had a funny conversation with the volunteers up there, who had to carry all supplies in with horses, about what to do with your dirty post-race clothes (suggestions were to drop them off at the YMCA or to just burn them), and some rather odd requests runners had made of them.  Ultra-runners really are a weird group of people.

The Dry Fork aid station @ mile 82.5 was in sight around mile 80; it was at the top of a long hill.  We kept seeing people that we passed earlier in the race being driven up that hill in ATVs or Mules, and I remember getting extremely jealous of them, just sitting there, not having to use their legs.  I let Julie know how lucky I considered those people to be, but she was just too damn positive about the prospect of finishing this epically difficult race. Finally, the climb (partially accompanied by Rob again!), we were there.  It was a quick stop, then another climb to the high point on that end of the course.  I was pretty sure we’d make it before the final cutoff now, but I had mixed feelings about having to cover another 17 miles.  A 17-mile run on pavement, with fresh legs, could be done in 2 hours or so. But this would take us 6 hours, since neither one of us could really “run” anymore.  We could kinda make it look like we were running, but it was basically a walking pace. Then tendon behind my right knee was also on fire (a week later, and it still hurts a little to straighten out that leg), but I knew it was not the kind of injury you stop for.  When I ran the Palo Duro 50-miler last year, I did have the kind of injury that you stop for during the last 15 miles of the race (although I was winning, so I didn’t stop of course), so I knew the difference; most of us do.  But Palo Duro took maybe 8 hours for the whole race.  We were now at hour 27.

Julie and I were barely speaking at this point, although we were very supportive of the other when needed.  We were both just so miserable.  After the mile 92.5 aid station, we found out we had 2.5 miles of singletrack, then 5 miles of dirt road back to the town of Dayton.  The Singletrack. Took. Forever.  We skipped the aid at mile 95, and with 2 hours and 20 minutes to go before the cutoff, I knew we’d make it.  I’ve never, ever, experienced the kind of expansion of time that occurred over those last 5 miles. Every step hurt so bad.  I had to stop looking at my watch, because it seemed like 10 minutes would go by and we’d move .03 miles or something, so I just quit looking.  I found out later that Julie was having some kind of panic attack or something and was probably worse off than me, but either she kept it to herself or I was so inwardly focused on my own suffering that I didn’t realize it.  Someone on a bike came by to congratulate us with 1.5 miles to go, saying that most of the Bighorn veterans agreed this was the hardest year ever.  I couldn’t even respond to congratulations at that point – the finish still seemed days away!

Somehow, someway, we made it to the town.  We held hands as we turned toward the park, and walked it in from there, crossing together in 33:16.  I rarely have “emotions,” but they sure tried to come out in that last tenth of a mile in the park.  Hopefully there’s no photographic evidence.

As soon as we stopped, and the tendon behind my knee cooled off / tightened up, I could barely use the leg. Edward, who had also just run the 100 miles, was nice enough to drive us back to the cabin (3 blocks away) since there was no way I could make it.  Even Julie had to go get my drop bag from the collection area – I felt pretty pathetic! Once in the cabin, after showering, I had these weird shivering-but-hot spells.  Felt like my neck and above was hot and sweaty while the rest of my body was freezing – I was sure I had some kind of fever and that the rest of our trip (3 days in the Beartooth wilderness near Red Lodge, MT) was ruined.  But the very-experienced Julie said it would be better in the morning, and it was.  With the help of 2.4g of Vitamin I per day, we were able to put in about 35 total miles of hiking in some incredible places from Monday to Wednesday morning.

Now that a week has passed, of course I’ll be running another 100-miler - probably Cactus.  I will only remember the good parts of Bighorn – the partnership with Julie, and triumphing over adversity.  I never stop growing when I’m around Julie – and these aren’t just lessons in running better ultramarathons, although I certainly get a lot of much-needed help there.  I am just a better person in general with her.

She Said: Bighorn 100 Race Report

Time for a quick selfie before the race

Although Joe and I ran/walked/plodded every step of the Bighorn 100 together, we chose to write separate race reports.  I think it will be interesting to compare them and see the differences in what we choose to focus on.  I'm basing my recap on a set of four goals I wrote in my journal and shared with Joe the evening before the race.  Here goes:

Goal #1: Run the whole race together and finish together.  

Grade: A+.  Although there was a time I didn't think we'd make the time cutoff, as we wallowed in the mud overnight, and although Joe half-joked about wanting to drop around mile 60, we managed to stick it out and finish hand-in-hand.

Example: [Joe, jealously pointing to runners being carted away on ATVs after they'd dropped:] "Look at that guy.  He doesn't have to move a muscle!"

Finally approaching the finish line, more than 33 hours after starting

Out of 437 starters, only 175 finished, the conditions were so bad.  For me, it wasn't only the mud, which caused me to fall maybe twenty times and also ripped my shoe off my foot at one point; it was also the constant feeling of being cold and wet that challenged my desire to carry on.  The rain lasted hours and hours, and the temperature at the turnaround, at 9,000ft elevation, was probably around 40 degrees.  If I hadn't changed my outfit from head-to-toe at the 48-mile turnaround, my misery in being cold and wet might have threatened my finish.  One thing that kept me going was thinking that we committed to running the race together, and I couldn't ditch Joe, leaving him to continue alone.  The race seemed like a metaphor for marriage, and if our marriage gets difficult, I wouldn't just give up on it, would I?  I'm so glad we kept going, when so many others gave up.

 Me, slogging through the mud for 50 miles: "I feel like Milhouse.  'So this is my life.'"

Goal #2: Have fun making new memories with Joe, enjoying the scenery, another adventure, and many laughs.

Grade: A.  We certainly made new memories, and we did enjoy the scenery.  I especially appreciated the beautiful purple and yellow wildflowers blanketing the hills and meadows.  It was more of an adventure than we bargained for, with the rain, mud, and cold, but despite the conditions, we joked and laughed a lot.

Easier to enjoy the scenery here, at the start of the race, before the mud-fest

Example: [Joe, running past moose droppings:] "That poop looked like those little chocolate Easter eggs.  What kind of animal do you suppose poops like that?"

[Julie:] "Like Cadbury eggs?"

[Joe:] "No, those little foil-wrapped ones."

[Julie thinks to herself] Cadbury eggs are wrapped in foil.

[Julie:] "It's probably the Easter bunny."

[Joe:] "He poops in the shape of chocolate Easter eggs? But how do you tell the poop from the candy?"

[Julie:] "When it's out of season."

Goal #3: Maintain a positive attitude and perspective.  

Grade: B+.  I'd say we had positive attitudes for about 88 miles -- which is pretty good, considering the conditions, on top of the general difficulty of the course.  I have to admit, however, that we had terrible attitudes the last 12 miles or so.  All of a sudden it got hot, it was totally exposed, and the singletrack never seemed to end.  Then, when we got to the road, that never seemed to end.  

Example: [Julie:] "F--- this singletrack s--t!  Get us out of this f---ing National Forest! I just want to be on the road!  Let us out!"

Example: [Joe:] "F--- me in the goat-ass."  (If you don't get this reference, you really need to listen to this.  Caution: NSFW.)

Long before this, during the mud slog, Joe had started giving me updates on how well we were doing compared to 20-minute miles.  That became the goal; we joked about "Slamming down some sub-20s" when we were really feeling good.  It was so helpful to know that as long as we continued hitting that mark, we would make the cutoff, with time to spare.  That pace is a bit depressing, though, because when you have 12 miles to go, that means 4 more hours.  3 miles to go is another entire hour.  

I had pretty much stopped eating with 12 miles left, thinking there wasn't that much remaining.  That left me lightheaded and exhausted by the time we got to the road, and I felt like I was having a panic attack -- I was breathing rapidly and out of control, and dry-crying (probably too dehydrated for tears).  Even with only 2 miles to go, I was secretly worried I'd collapse before the finish, which terrified me -- imagine suffering through 98 miles and not being able to finish!  Both Joe and I had swollen hands and fingers and were worried about hyponatremia, and I had reacted to that by not drinking even though I was thirsty (mistake!).  Both Joe and I were hurting and beyond ready to be done at this point.

Goal #4: Help each other out there.

Grade: A+.  All I can say is that running this race with Joe was like having a pacer for all one hundred miles.  He helped me in countless ways.  To name a few: 1) when I ran out of nutrition between aid stations (oops!), he gave me gels, and even took the tops off for me.  (Aww!)  2) He helped me get my shoe out of the mud and back on my foot.  3) He always stayed behind me and let me determine the pace.  4)  He kept track of the time for us -- he told me how much cushion we had before the cutoff, and how close we were to 20-minute mile pace.  (This was reassuring for the most part, and motivating in parts where we were slower due to the muddy, steep climbs.)  5) He'd give me encouragement, like "You're moving really good, Jules."  6) He'd remind me to eat.  7) He made me laugh, and we kept each other entertained.

Speaking of entertainment, here's a partial list of songs we had stuck in our heads during the race.  (We were kind enough to make sure any song in our head got stuck in the other's head, as well.)

1. Glory Days, Bruce Springsteen (Really, this one has been stuck in our heads since the Franklin Mountains 50k last September.)

2. Ironic, Alanis Morrisette 

3. Hungry Like the Wolf, Duran Duran (Why is it "the" wolf, and not "a" wolf?  Which specific wolf is he talking about?)

4. Pachelbel Canon (Why?)

5. Highway to Hell, AC/DC

Toward the end of the race, Joe was questioning why anyone would do a hundred-miler.  But of course, now he's excited again for running Cactus 100 in October.  As Chris Russell commented, it's important to have a short-term memory in this sport.  I'm so glad I was there for his first 100-mile finish, and I'm looking forward to seeing what he can do when he runs one like a race, rather than running with me.

Happy and relieved to be finished -- and to have accomplished it together.

Bighorn was a tough experience, but it was another chance to grow as individuals and as a couple.  We continue to put ourselves in situations where we see all sides of one another, and where we are challenged to our perceived limits, and we keep coming out the other side stronger and better for it.  It's such a blessing to have this sport where we can have these kinds of experiences and make these memories together.  We're already looking forward to our next trail adventure.

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to Nathan for my hydration pack, bladder, and headlamps.  Thank you to Victory Sportdesign for the gear bags (Bear II and Bear III) that kept my stuff organized and dry, allowing me to change socks, shirts, shoes, hats, capris -- pretty much everything. Thanks also to Rob Van Houten, who hiked with us up to the Dry Fork aid station and gave us great moral support, and all the volunteers -- many of which were out in the cold rain all day Friday, all night, and all day Saturday.  They were amazing!  Also thanks to Edward Sousa for sharing his packing list and race strategy, and giving us a ride back to our cabin after the race, when we didn't feel up to walking three more blocks.  And always, thanks to Rob and Rachel Goyen for letting me be part of the Team TROT family.  It's such a blessing and a pleasure to be in the TROT community.

Taco Cabana Challenge Recap (with photos)

This Rockhopper endurance eating competition promised an inter-city competition featuring two legends from Austin.  Ominous clouds on the horizon and thick humidity in the air set the stage as 9 hungry, naïve competitors toed the line for this 9.3-mile, 3-restaurant, 4000+ calorie showdown. 

At restaurant #1, tension mounted as the competitors were served their massive burritos, which weighed just over a pound each, along with chips and guacamole.  At 8:33am the gun went off and the gorging began.  The literal storm outside would eventually skirt San Antonio harmlessly, but the storm within the digestive systems of the foolhardy competitors was just beginning as each eater finished up meal #1.

“Sweet” Chris Russell, accompanied by his 2 lovely pacers, was the first out the door.  He was followed by Mike “The Ringer” Ruhlin from Austin, then Julie “Habanero Kid” Koepke.  The rest of the competitors would soon follow, and the field started making its way along the 6-mile route to the next restaurant.  Joe “Schmo” and Steffen “Two F’s” Andersland joined up and took the lead all the way to Taco Cabana #2.  Meanwhile, Sweet Chris, his pacers, and Erin “The Tornado” Good were already diverted to a port-a-potty along the route.  Refried beans will do that.  “Maffatone” Tom Bowling, in a complete departure from his normal, steady heart rate strategy, was setting 5k PRs and lighting Leon Creek on fire on this first leg – would this risky move pay off, or backfire?  Along the way, competitors were also cheered on by pacer Jess Winnett, Kristen Malloy, Tony Maldonado (riding his bike along LC) and Michele Genereux, who decided (probably against her better judgement) to witness Tom’s performance first-hand this time.

Russell enjoying the company of his two pacers

Andersland and Schmal were the first to order at the second restaurant.  Trail-running legend Steven “Eatsum” Moore from Austin was not far behind, despite taking the longest to make his way through the 1-pound beef burrito.  Bowling came in next, having just bagged a 5k PR according to his watch.  Then Koepke and Ruhlin ran in with Jess, followed shortly thereafter by Good.  Eric “Game-Time Decision” Lamkin – who waited until the last minute to decide to participate, as well as to decide on which menu to order from (meat vs. vegetarian) – also arrived at the second restaurant around this time.  Russell wasted no time in finding a comfortable patio spot in which to create a small kiddie pool of sweat.  The two leaders quickly lost their spots as Ruhlin, well-known in Austin’s endurance eating circles, made the second 1-pound burrito disappear faster than the Rockets in the NBA playoffs.

Russell's kiddie pool

With Ruhlin already making his way down the last 3.3 mile stretch of Bandera Rd, the others had their work cut out.  Schmal, Bowling, and Koepke (who put away her second burrito incredibly fast), all left together in the chase pack.  Unfortunately, Taco Cabana #2 would also have a few casualties.  Lamkin, Moore and Good would not even order food at the third restaurant.  When Good arrived at the last restaurant, she announced that she DQ’d “somewhere along Bandera Road,” having unleashed a bean-and-cheese tornado of puke.

Ruhlin and Schmal arrived 1-2 at the last restaurant and ordered, but Schmal could already taste defeat.  While Ruhlin attacked the last burrito (another 1-pound brick of steak, rice and beans), Schmal could only nibble at it, bit by bit.  Bowling, the only TC competitor to have successfully finished the Whataburger Challenge last year, was next into the restaurant.  Koepke, Andersland and Russell would follow.  However, Ruhlin was just too strong.  At the 2:26 mark, he gulped the last of his peach margarita and raised his fists in victory.  He would be the only competitor to finish all 4000 calories; the rest would have to be weighed on the food scale.  Schmal somewhat redeemed a poor performance at the Whataburger Challenge last year, getting through almost all of the last burrito – only 3.3 oz. remained uneaten from the 17 oz. behemoth, earning him second place.

Schmal experiencing a new feeling: There's food in front of me, and I don't want to eat it.

Bowling, pretty happy about his peach margarita

The agony of defeat. How bad do I want it? Maybe not that badly.

The most dramatic moment of the competition was about to occur.  Everyone had weighed their remaining food contents by 11:32am, 1 minute before the cutoff, and it appeared that Russell had a narrow edge over Steffen for 3^rd place, with 10.1 ounces remaining versus 10.2 for Andersland.  But Russell was still chewing on a huge mouthful of food as the seconds ticked toward 11:33 (the 3-hour mark).  Once time was officially called, Russell had to spit the remaining un-swallowed tex-mex into the wrapper to be re-weighed.  The new weight was 10.9 ounces, pushing Russell to 4^th place, and forcing everyone to recoil in disgust.

The awards ceremony began promptly following the competition.  The coveted DFL award, a toilet-shaped air freshener, went to Good, although all competitors would probably benefit from such a prize.  Ruhlin graciously accepted his new Squatty Potty © for 1^st place overall.  Schmal and Koepke awarded 1^st place male and 1^st place female to themselves – plastic shovels to hopefully aid in shoveling food into their mouths a little faster next time.  Andersland scored the final prize of the morning – a “grow your own chili plant” in honor of defeating his spicy competition on the way to a 2^nd place male finish.

Ruhlin with his major award

 Another successful Rockhopper eat and run competition is in the books.  Mark your calendars now for our 2^nd annual Whataburger Challenge, to be held Labor Day 2017.  We also hope to continue this new tradition of a spring eating challenge, which will feature new restaurants each year.

-Schmal and Koepke, RDs

Taco Cabana Challenge Results

Mike “The Ringer” Ruhlin 2:26

Joe “Schmo” Schmal 3.3 ounces remaining

Steffen “Two Fs” Andersland 10.2 ounces

“Sweet” Chris Russell 10.9 ounces

“Maffetone” Tom Bowling 12.49 ounces

Julie “Habanero Kid” Koepke 16.2 ounces

Steven “Eatsum” Moore DNF after TC #2

Eric “Game-Time Decision” Lamkin DNF after TC #2

Erin “The Tornado” Good DNF after TC #2 with 8-ounce puking penalty

Lone Star 100 Race Recap

Backstory

This past weekend, I was fortunate to experience the inaugural Lone Star 100 mile race, put on by Rob and Rachel Goyen of Trail Racing Over Texas.  I had been hoping to run it, but had wanted to wait until after HURT before signing up.  Since I DNF'd HURT but was uninjured, I was eager to register.  In fact, I was so eager that I registered for Lone Star the day after HURT, while on a hike with Edward and Joe.  Edward had been training like a rockstar for Lone Star, and was really excited to race it.  Joe had told me that if I decided to do it, he'd be happy to drive us to El Paso and crew and pace me.  Yep, I'm a lucky girl.

Here are my race highlights.

Pre-Race Meal 
L&J's cafe by the cemetary. Boom. During the race, Edward told me that eating so much Mexican food had caused him some GI troubles, but I say, only a poor craftsman blames his shoddy tools. Amirite?

Loop One: Patience

Race start: 5am

Joe, Edward, and I had raced the Franklin Mountains 50k on pretty much the same trails as this race, and that had taken me about 8.5 hours, so I had an idea about how brutal this course was going to be.  With that in mind, I started off super conservatively.  Joe, Edward, Dustin, and I had placed bets on what we thought the finishing rate was going to be, and my guess had been 37%.  (The actual figure turned out to be less than 30%, and that includes runners who took longer than the stated cutoff time of 36 hours.)

By the second aid station, I was in second-to-last place.  I had to swallow my pride as people asked me if I was feeling okay.  They all thought something was wrong, but as I told Myke Hermsmeyer on my way up North Franklin Mtn, I was placing my money on "slow and steady," with the feeling that finishing within the cutoff time would be a win -- and might even be a literal win.  I felt that most of the people ahead of me would end up dropping out.  Thank goodness I was proven right.  But I had to be really patient for that to happen -- about 34 hours and 15 minutes of patience.

Somewhere on loop 1

At each aid station accessible by car, and also at Mundy's Gap, the "highest aid station in Texas," Joe was there to help me out and cheer me on.  He made four trips up to Mundy's over the course of the race, which involved climbing up a long scree field to the top of a mountain ridge.  (While there, he helped out runners and volunteers alike.  He even made a special trip down to get more oranges when the aid station ran out, and climbed back up the mountain with a backpack full of oranges.  He also brought Whataburger for the volunteers who were up there for 48 hours straight.  What a guy!)

Loop Two: Into the Night
Back at the start/finish, ending loop one and about to begin loop two, I changed my shorts, bra, and shoes in the port-o-potty.  I wanted to avoid the terrible chafing I suffered through at HURT.  Fortunately, El Paso is a lot less humid than Honolulu.  But I still had some issues (I must have incredibly sensitive skin), and I wanted to nip the problem in the bud.  Joe helped me add some more Trail Toes tape on my back where the skin was starting to chafe.  Changing from Altra Superiors into Hokas made my feet feel amazing for the first part of loop two.

I saved a treat for myself during loop two: the night before the race, Edward gave me the most amazing gift.  It was an iPod shuffle loaded with audio from Simpsons episodes.  That kept me entertained a long time during the late afternoon, evening, and nighttime on Saturday.  This was the opening scene of the first episode I listened to during the race.  "Are we there yet?" "No."  How appropriate.

Another highlight of loop two was the beautiful moon.  It was full, or almost full, and a brilliant reddish color, with reddish clouds around it.  I risked tripping and falling several times because I couldn't keep my eyes off it.

Loop Three: TGFJ

My 3rd summit of North Franklin Mtn

I picked up Joe for loop three around 2am.  I had worked so hard to be vigilant with my nutrition and hydration throughout the race, in the hopes that I could present myself to Joe in good condition when it was time for him to pace me.  I was still smarting from my DNF at HURT, and from how pitifully I behaved when Joe and Edward paced me there.  After a lot of reflection on what went wrong there, I zoomed in on the fact that I got way off my nutrition.  I'd be just starting a 1,500-foot climb and realize it was time to eat, but I didn't want to stop my ascent, so I'd put it off, thinking, "I'll wait til I get to the top of this climb, and then I'll eat."  After enough situations like that, I think I just got deep into a hole of calorie deficiency, and once that happens, the will to eat anything is entirely zapped, and I just dig myself deeper and deeper.

To prevent this during Lone Star, I made myself eat something every 20 minutes or so.  (This is way more tiring than you can imagine, if you've never tried it.)  Sometimes it would just be some crackers or chips, though, which maybe wasn't as many calories as I needed.  I guess it says something that post-race, I couldn't remember much about the first part of loop three. Yesterday, reflecting back on the race, I asked Joe, "When we started loop three, was I moving okay?  Or was I already struggling?"  He reminded me that right after we started loop three, I insisted that I had to sit down on the bench on the ridgeline for a couple minutes.  "Oh, yeah.  I remember that now."

My lowest point, Joe and I agree, was the stretch called Shaeffer's Shuffle.  That was a much worse climb going the other direction, during loop two, but during loop three, I just lacked any energy at all.  I was so slow-moving.  And I had to sit down on a rock and rest once or twice.  But I had told Joe to tell me every 20 minutes to take a gel (my watch had died before the end of loop two), and that's what we did.  For thirteen hours straight, Joe followed a strict regimen of telling me to take a gel every 20 minutes, and I followed a strict regimen of emitting a moan, taking another gel, and holding my stomach as it immediately cramped.  After a while, even taking a sip of water made my poor stomach cramp.  But I decided that, horrible as the stomach pains were, it was worth it to get my energy back.

Going up North Franklin summit the third time, Joe and I enjoyed watching for the 1st place male and then watching for Edward, who we knew was closing in on 1st place.  We knew he had it in him to win the race.  He looked so strong and focused when we saw him, it was awesome.  We were also excited to see Myke Hermsmeyer, the best race photographer in the world, climbing the mountain again to take photos of our last summit.  As soon as we reached the top, getting my final summit bracelet and leaving a note for Rob, a cold front seemed to move in.  The temps dropped and the winds picked up significantly.  We ran back down to Mundy's aid station, and that's when I started feeling good again.

Leaving a note for Rob . . . NSFW

The stretch from Mundy's to East aid station was my best in that loop, according to Joe.  Then from East to West aid stations, we were propelled along by a tailwind.  The stretch from West aid station to Pavilion was challenging, to say the least.  The winds were now cross-winds and headwinds, and gaining in strength by the minute.  That stretch seemed to last forever.  The only thing that made it enjoyable in the least was Joe's encouraging words.  Every once in a while, he'd say something like, "You're moving really great here," and I'd believe it.

When we finally climbed up to the Pavilion aid station, I knew we only had 1.5 or so miles left to get to the finish line, so I didn't stop, but went right up towards the ridgeline that would take us home.  Immediately, though, I was struck by the incredible force of the winds.  I got knocked down and banged my knee.  I couldn't stand up, the wind was so strong.  I really couldn't see how I'd be able to get myself to the finish line along this ridge.  After crouching on the rocks for a minute, I shouted to Joe over the wind, "It's not going to let up, is it?"  "No."  No, it was sustained and was just going to keep getting worse.  We had to keep going.

For the first part of the ridgeline, we were shuffling in a bent-over state (which was agony on our lower backs).  Then, after a while, we couldn't even get by doing that, because the winds were so strong that we were getting blown over.  So we started moving like crabs, crawling on our butts.  A good strategy for not getting blown off the mountain and dying, but unfortunate that our hands kept landing on cacti, and that my butt is covered in bruises from the rocks.  It is also just about the slowest possible way to ambulate.

Joe took a video of the last part of the descent, when we were lower down, and so didn't feel like we were about to die.  He wishes he could've taken a video along the ridge, when the winds were at their strongest and craziest, but we were both too focused on survival for that to happen.

That final adventure with the wind made the finish even sweeter.  I was so happy to be alive and done, to have survived the race; that meant so much more to me than winning.  When I hugged Joe, my legs kind of gave way, and I got a little teary, and it sure wasn't because of my place on the podium or my finishing time.  It was that he and I got to share an incredible adventure, one that at times seemed impossible to accomplish, and now we get to share those memories forever.  We talked about it afterward, and we both feel that way: we didn't appreciate the situation at the time, but looking back on it, we're glad we got to experience it.  I guess that could be a metaphor for a lot of situations in life.

Survival mode

The finish line was fun for a few minutes: high-fiving Edward, whose incredible hard work in training, brilliant planning and strategizing, and smart and strong race earned him a well-deserved 1st place overall finish; getting a hug from Rob and Rachel; getting photos taken by Myke; getting wrapped up in a blanket by Rob.  But the winds were not dying down, and we were all chilly, so Joe and I hightailed it to the car as soon as possible.  And took this selfie.  I love it, because it's us in our natural state: dirty, exhausted, exhilarated.

Until the next adventure . . .