There I was, standing only miles to the finish line, no longer on the race trail, my vision so severely impaired I was not able to see where trail was, knowing that it would be many hours before they would send someone to find me. I took a deep breath, remembered the words I tell my daughters, “Panic people die; calm people live” and started to backtrack.
On Saturday, October 28, 2017, at 5:00am, I began the Tejas Trails Cactus Rose 100 miler in Bandera, TX. My goal was to finish in under 24 hours. I was underprepared mentally and physically for the race. In the end, I finished blinded, battered, and bloodied in 31:06 – 13th place out of 42 (21 finished).
No Whinners, wimps
Cactus Rose is a unique trail race. It is a self-supported race, meaning that there are water stations along the course, but they are unmanned and only have water and ice. The race is described as:
No whiners, wimps, or wusses.
This is a rugged trail running race that was designed to test runners.
The course can go by quickly because of its picturesque views;
technical climbs and descents; and fun terrain.
But be careful looking at the scenery too long, you might end up face first in a cactus.
Please understand this race does not have our usual
full spread aid stations and volunteers…on purpose.
We have plenty of medical staff,
but you are required to be able to handle your own needs out on the course.
People asked for a tough race, so Tejas Trails made it happen.
Leading up to Cactus Rose 100, I had a lot going on. The previous weekend I led and organized two 8-person Ragnar Trail Relay teams. In addition, I was planning and recruiting prize sponsors for a fitness challenge for November. With so much going on, Cactus Rose kind of snuck up on me. I did not mentally prepare or plan my race. I had no idea how technical the course was or the elevation profile. I had all my food/fuel prepped, but I made the assumption that I would set up my tent in the same location that I would have my drop-bag at the start/finish. I saw that the forecast was predicting temperatures in the low 30s which was making me a little nervous about the effect on my eyes.
When I arrived at the park on Friday, I realized that I would be camping away from the start/finish line and the drop-bag location. I also found out there was no cell reception within 10 miles of the park. I setup my tent and reorganized my gear to separate my camping supplies from my race supplies. I went to the pre-race briefing, ate dinner in the car, and laid down in my new sleeping bag excited and nervous for the next day. It was a cold night, but my gear did a great job keeping me comfortable.
Saturday morning I was up at 3am. After a peanut butter sandwich breakfast, I got ready to race. I put my tub, chair, and beverage cooler in the drop-bag area which was a covered shed with tarp side walls and a heater. At first, I thought it was a going to be a pain to get into the shed between laps, but it turned out to be a great setup to protect racers from the cold and wind.
Start Time
It was almost starting time. For the 100 miler, we would run the exact same 25 mile loop 4 times, but reverse direction each loop. Loops 1 & 3 were clockwise, loops 2 & 4 were counter-clockwise. At each aid station, we needed to sign in with our bib, name, and time. It was the way to keep track of the racers on the course.
The clocked ticked down and we were off in the dark at 5:00am. I got off to a good pace. When I hit the first climb, I was surprised by the difficulty of the terrain (see my note earlier about my lack of research). We had to use our hands to help us up in spots. I was thinking, this is awesome but this is just the beginning of the race. I slowed down on the climb, but I bombed the downhill making up time and passing a bunch of racers taking the descent cautiously. I was running with a small pack of 5 runners through the woods. Once we hit the long straightaway, they took off and I pulled back to my 100mi pace. Within a few minutes, I was all alone on the trails in the dark.
As the sun started to rise, there were some awesome views of the Texas countryside. While I did not slow down, I did make sure I took the time to look and take it in. At around mile 13, I took my first good tumble – I ended more dirty than injured. Unfortunately, it did expose a flaw in my gear that would haunt me the entire race. My running vest is well-worn and the bungee that holds the chest pockets closed no longer stays. When I fell, all the food in my left pocket flew out. I did not notice until a couple of miles later when I went to get some food from that pocket. Luckily I brought some extra fuel on the lap, but I lost my real food.
As I continued on my first lap, I learned more about Cactus Rose 100. First, anytime the terrain eases up, it is very temporary. Second, you will either be climbing or descending most of the race. Third, the trail is covered with sotol plants (aka. spoon flower, desert spoon, dasylirion wheeleri). These plants have long, strap-shaped serrated leaves which will catch and cut up clothing and flesh.
Cactus Rose Draws Blood
With about 5 miles left to go on lap 1, I took a nasty fall. I was coming downhill, lost my footing, and hit and slide across several sharp rocks and cactus. I tore my left leg open from my knee to about three-fourths up my outer thigh. Luckily, it was just a surface wound. I looked down to see the blood already dripping out of the gashes down my leg. I dusted myself off and continued on at a more cautious pace. The sotol covering the trail continued to cut into the gash. I found out after the race that the medics wanted to stop me when I came through the start/finish area. Since I did not stop when I came through, they were unable to get to me and assumed I was fine.
After 5 hours and 3 minutes, I finished my first loop. It felt good to have one lap down. I was a little behind the pace I wanted to hit my goal of a sub 24 hour race. I hit up my bin to resupply my food/fuel and was on my way. Early on my second loop, I stumbled on a downhill section and over extended my knee. Every downhill started to hurt after that. This slowed me down considerably. The rest of the loop was uneventful as a whole. As I ran through the sotol, they still stung but it seemed less than the previous lap. Although, I remember feeling warm liquid dripping down my leg as they cut something open.
It was around mile 40 that I started to notice my left eye was becoming blurry. It was not bad, but I knew that it would get worse. Checking my pace, I was behind my sub-24 hour target. With night coming and my left eye getting a little blurry, I knew I would not make my goal. I did contemplate stopping at mile 50, because I was pretty nervous about my vision. I decided to see how it was when I came in from the second loop before making the call. I finished my second lap in 6 hour 54 minutes. I took a longer break, ate some solid food and a chia squeeze, taped my heel, and changed my socks. Overall, I felt pretty good. I packed up my gear to run at night and I was off.
Halfway There
Once the sun was down on my third loop, things started to take a turn. The temperature started to drop and I had to rely on my headlamp. I was going slow, but moving forward. The cold temperature ensured I was moving as fast as I could. My vision continued to get worse. My left eye was blurred. The blurriness in my right eye started at the bottom was slowly creeping up. By the time I hit the third aid station, I was having a hard time reading the sign-in notebooks. I had to move it around to see where to sign. I could not read their clocks, but could read my watch. I thought to myself, as long as I don’t have to read anything I should be fine. At the fourth aid station, I was struggling to find where in the notebook to sign in. It took moving the notebook around a lot before I found the line.
When I came in from my third loop, it took me 8 hours 25 minutes. The temperature was dropping fast. I made it into the drop bag area. They had a heater going and the area was a nice escape from the cold and wind. I decided to do a full switch of my shirts since they were sweaty and grab a couple of extra layers. Once I was ready, I stood facing the heater where I could feel the heat on my eyes. I was hoping it would help my vision. It had no effect.
The Final Loop
I started out on my fourth and final lap. I found out afterwards, the temperature dropped to 29 degrees Fahrenheit. As I got moving, my eyesight was bad and getting worse. I could make out the trail as long as I had both eyes open. I took it slow, but kept moving. I tried to focus all my energy to my eyes. Hoping that they could start healing themselves.
By the time I hit the second aid station, my vision had deteriorated to where I could not see any lines or names in the notebook. I ending asking one of the guys that was there where to sign my name. He said at the end of the list. I had to ask him to point to the line so I knew where to sign. I was back on my way.
As I was running, I was losing the ability to see the details of the trail. I could see that it was there, but I could not distinguish between big rocks or gaps and the trail. I ended up hitting a lot of rocks along the way bruising my feet, ankles, and shins. It got to the point where I was using both of my headlamps to create shadows and contrast on the trail. That worked for sometime, but there was a point that that method no longer worked. Not only that, but it seemed that the light from my headlamps was dimming. I had to slow down. Unfortunately, during that stretch I tripped and fell again. A little while later, I realized that during that fall, I lost one of my headlamps and eye drops. My only hope was that when the sun rose, I would be able to see better and it would warm up.
Sun rise was the not the savior I was hoping it would be. The long shadows the sun created made following the trail more difficult than it was in the dark. I made it to the third aid station. It was here that my vision was almost a complete whiteout. I asked the guy there were the signin notebooks were because I could not see them. When I found them, I realized I was unable to sign in. Not only could I not tell where the next blank line was, but also I could not see my own hand trying to scribble down my info. I told the guy at the aid station that I was blinded and asked him to sign me. He did and he wished me luck. I had roughly 10 miles to go I told myself. I could do this.
My Vision Goes from Bad to Worse
I was on my way. I could hardly see more than a blurry mess of white and gray. I made it about two miles when I ran into the tape bordering the turn. I realized that I had not seen the tape before running into it. I also knew that this was the part of the race where the trail and ground around it looked different. I walked along the tape, knowing I would have to turn left at some point. I did not get far before looking over and seeing that I could not see any of the tape or signed. My vision was washed out. I decided to walk back to the turn the tape marked off and hope someone came along. It didn’t take long before I heard someone coming and saw a black silhouette. I called out, “Are you a racer?” He replied he was. I explained that I had lost my sight and asked if I could follow him to the next aid. He said yes and I started following behind him.
Over the next couple of miles, I got to know Jake, the runner I was following. It turns out it was his dad that signed me in on the previous aid station. Following Jake was not too difficult. Since he was wearing all black, I could pick him out from the environment in front of me. As I was following him, I would lose him when we went into the shadows. I would wait until he reappear and I would catch up. I had a couple of falls during this time, one of which I lost by other headlamp.
We finally reached the aid station. When we got there, I was almost completely blind. I could not see where anything was. I even ran right into a chair that was across the path. Jake’s dad was there to meet us. Jake and his dad helped me get a chair in the sun. I sat down facing the sun, eyes closed, with my hat pulled over my eyes. I was trying to warm up my eyes enough to see and make it to the finish line. After they got me set up, Jake went on his way. (I can’t thank Jake enough for taking me into the aid station. I am positive I would not have made it there without his help.) His dad stayed and chatted with me. As I was sitting there, hat pulled over my eyes, walking stick in hands I thought, “Well, hopefully I look cool … like Daredevil.”
After about an hour, I pulled my hat up to check my vision. It was better, not good but good enough that I thought I could make it to the finish line. I got up and started on my way. It was only 5 miles until the end, with a big climb in the middle.
Panic People Die; Calm People Live
As I started out, I felt pretty good. I could see different colors within about 4 to 5 feet from me. I could tell where the trail was, see trail confidence markers in the trees, and signs for turns, as long as they were about 4 to 5 feet away. Anything further away just blended in. This meant that I could usually tell if I was on the trail, but I could not tell if the trail was going to turn ahead of me.
I was on a fireroad section of the trail and making good time when I suddenly ran into a tree that was across the trail. “Oh no!” I thought, “I am off trail.” I backtracked a little and saw the fireroad turned left and went downhill. I started thinking back to when I ran this trail and I could not remember a big turn like this or being on a fireroad for so long. I went down the road a little ways and did not see a confidence marker. I backtracked to the main fireroad, the one I knew was part of the trail at some point. I tried looking around to find a turn, marker, something to help. There was nothing. I started to think, “Was I overconfident in my ability to see? Did I let my desire to finish this race cloud my judgement?”
There I was, standing only miles to the finish line, no longer on the race trail, my vision so severely impaired I was not able to see where trail went, knowing that it would be many hours before they would send someone to find me. I took a deep breath, remembered the words I tell my daughters, “Panic people die; calm people live” and started to backtrack.
I walked back looking for markings, something to let me know I was on the trail. I eventually found one. I was back on the trail, but when I was backtracking I did not see any turns or signs. I turned around and walked on the outside side of the fireroad. Maybe I was too far away to see the signs or markers. As I was going, I knew there must be a turn. Everything that appeared to be a branching path I walked down a little looking for some sign. None of the branching paths I took were the trail. I went back to the fireroad. It eventually felt like I had been on the fireroad too long, so I turned around and headed back to find a confidence marker. I found one, the same one I found when I initially backtrack. So in all that traveled distance, I had made no progress. I took a deep breath, time to try again.
I went down all the same dead end paths as the last time. This time, I did find a trail off the fire road that I did not remember trying. I went down it a little and found a confidence marker. “Hell yeah!” I thought, “Finally, I am making forward progress.” It wasn’t too long until I hit branching paths again. This time, I tried every branch until I found a confidence marker. In this section of the trail, it seemed to branch every 20 feet. At least one time, I tried every path and did not find a confidence marker. I backtracked then tried every path again going a little further. I still did not find the way. I did it all over again going further down each path.
I found the trail at last. It took me up the climb. I was feeling good again, I knew that following the path would be pretty clear going up and down the hill. The climb was difficult, but I was so happy I was back on the right track, I hardly noticed. The descent was another thing altogether. It was steep, with large drops. I started trying to take it super slow, but that was causing more problems. I tossed by walking stick aside and went for it. It went well except for one drop I fell down and jammed my finger pretty hard. I yelled at my eyes, “This is why you need to work, you are now hurting other parts of my body.”
Once I was down the hill, it was smooth sailing. I saw the signs where the loops branch and knew I was about a quarter mile away. I picked up my pace and ran for the finish. I would like to say that I ran across the finish line, but unfortunately I stopped short because I couldn’t actually see where the finish line was. Then I took a couple of more steps, heard the timer go off and knew I was done. Chris, the race director, meet me at the finish and asked, “Can you see anything?”
“No,” I replied.
“Congrats on finishing. That is incredible.” As he reached for an object on the table he said, “Here’s your buckle. It is pretty cool, if you could see it.” Chris asked me to stay there while he called Becky, the medic, over. Becky did a quick check on me, making sure I was coherent, knew where I was, and remarked on my leg gashes.
They took me over to the house to get cleaned up and rest while my eyes recovered. After showering and collecting some of my gear, they let me take a nap in the med room. Chris, Becky, and the rest of the staff were awesome and did such a great job.
After my nap, my eyesight was back enough for me to drive into Bandera, the closest town. Once there, I called AJ to let her know what was going on. I took a short rest in Bandera and then headed home. I finally made it home at 8pm on Sunday night.
The Story Continues
So, I wish my race write-up ended there, but it does not. The next day, Monday, I went into work. For the most part I felt fine, just very tired and sore. I got caught up in the day’s work and forgot to hydrate properly. By the end of the work day, I realized that I was very dehydrated and having possible kidney issues. Once I got home, I talked with AJ about it. We decided to have me drink lots of water and monitor the situation closely. It felt like I was moments away from heading to the ER. By morning, everything was back to normal.
In the end, it was a hard race. I lost a bunch of food, eye drops, and 2 headlamps to falls on the trails. It tested me physically, but more so mentally. It was about keeping calm, figuring out a solution, and never giving up. I learned more about running, about my gear, and about myself. Lessons that I will take into my future races. I am stronger for having finished this race.
