Reveille Peak Ranch 60k Race Report

I've spent the better part of a week trying to figure out what went wrong at Reveille Peak Ranch last weekend. It was a 60k in the Captain Karl's series of night time races that was meant to be a training run for me - an opportunity to work on my nutrition and hydration, get some quality miles in at night, and take me a step closer to the next big race on the schedule in a few weeks. While I wish I could say I accomplished my goals - ANY of my goals - it turned out to be a major disappointment in just about every way possible. 

While the track itself was somewhat technical (large rocks littered the course, and then there's the granite dome that I will get to shortly), it was not particularly difficult. Many rolling hills along the way would provide a few thousand feet of cumulative elevation gain but nothing overly rigorous. I thought it was well-marked, straightforward, and with the aid stations only a few short miles apart, should have been relatively easy to navigate. We would run 3 loops at around 12.5 miles per loop so there would be ample opportunity to restock at the main lodge area as well. I guess that's why the saying goes "that's why they play the game" because what seemed easy enough for me on paper certainly did not play out that way.

All smiles at the start with Brian and Josh

The course began along a dirt service road which led for a few miles to what is one of the more interesting geological formations you'll see in this part of the world - a large exposed mound of pure granite that almost resembles a large lava flow, extending in many different directions like fingers along the trail. It's like a giant granite boulder was dropped in the middle of west Texas cactus and mesquite trees. We would run around and over the dome for a few miles then proceed back on to single track for the rest of each loop, eventually returning us to the lodge.

My troubles began almost immediately as it seemed that despite my diligence to paying attention to the trail, I was kicking and tripping over rocks at an irritatingly high rate. I took a couple of early falls as well - nothing painful, with landings on sand and dirt, allowing me to dust myself off and continue quickly - but it was certainly enough to unnerve me. I slowed my pace and began to feel frustrated with my poor footwork. Each rock I kicked would set off a cavalcade of curses as I bounced from one side of the trail to the other, looking for smoother sailing that would allow me to pick up the pace.

As I reached the granite dome the landscape changed dramatically. Highway reflectors would be used to guide us up and over this slab of rock that was devoid of plant life. I was able to run relatively comfortably on the dome, as the surface had been worn down by years of weather and human traffic to a relatively smooth exterior that was, dare I say, almost like a road. Perhaps I became a little too comfortable running over the dome because not long after the trail began to head downhill, with me moving at a decent clip in an effort to make up a little time lost earlier on, my right foot caught a rock. And thus, my first "major" fall of the day. There was nothing to grab onto to help slow me down as I fell. As I hit the ground I plowed right in to a small cluster of rocks on the trail. I laid in the dirt for a moment to collect myself as a few other runners stopped to check on me. I wish I could say that the only thing I had wounded was my pride, but sadly this was not the case. I was skinned up on both knees and on my right arm. Blood and dirt caked my legs as I shakily stood back up. My right knee had hit a rock straight on and was deeply bruised. Everything from my waist to my ankles was either bleeding, cut, or bruised, and everything above the waist wasn't much better. And to make matters worse, I was only around 8 miles in. 

So that was how things began, and while I wish I could say they could only get better, they really didn't. I took several more hard falls, dealt with a sour stomach all night, and basically ended up hiking much more of the course than I intended. A good man at one of the aid stations (the great Texas Yeti himself) graciously helped clean the dirt and rocks out of my wounds, while others helped with words of encouragement and support. I appreciated the sentiment but my night was still a struggle. 

As I wound my way through the second loop of this treacherous track the one and only thought that kept me moving was my intention to finish this loop, drop out of the race, get myself cleaned up, and find some hot food. There was no thought to completing the 60k. None at all. Upon completing loop 2, as I sat in my chair, I can't say exactly what compelled to me to get up again and head back out for another 12.5 mile slog over that crazy terrain. I knew for a fact it was going to be a long, slow hike. Perhaps I was just stubborn, not wanting to go 0-for-3 at Captain Karl. I didn't think my night could get any worse, and I guess my frustration fueled the fire that kept me going. 

In the end I limped across the finish line in just under 10 hours. All in all, RPR sent me home beaten and broken. (As I write this several days later I am still recovering from my injuries from that race and haven't run a step since.)

As I look back on the day I think there may have been a couple of mistakes that "could" have altered the outcome of my race. (Maybe, maybe not.) First of all, this was my first real run in my new pair of Altra Lone Peak 2.0 shoes. I am a huge fan of the Altra brand, but it seemed that there was something about the wider toe box on these particular shoes almost made me feel like I had clown feet all night. Whether I was walking or running, I was kicking roots and tripping over rocks seemingly constantly. I won't say that I haven't ever had that much trouble getting along down a trail but it has been a long time since it was that bad. It hasn't caused me to completely abandon these shoes but I'll certainly be casting wary glances in their direction for a while. 

The second problem I may have suffered was in my nutrition. (This seems to be a "thing" for me.) I have had success recently using Tailwind products, which provide around 200 calories in simple carbohydrate when mixed with ~20 oz of water. It tastes great, doesn't upset my stomach, and for a shorter race like this should be all I need. The trouble is that when I would go through aid stations, I would allow volunteers to refill my water bottles - thereby diluting my tailwind ratios. After a while I lost track of what I had in my bottles, and since my pace was so much slower than I anticipated, I wasn't getting the calories that I thought I was. Looking back it seems like a simple enough thing to fix but at the time my mind was on other problems. This should have been a simple fix but once again I spent the night trying to play calorie catch-up on an already sour stomach.

I have been forced into a week long break as I continue to recover from various issues brought on by last week's race. My previously shaky confidence has been further diminished by this showing. I really do not know what my last few weeks of training will hold, or whether I will even be able to get the kind of quality workouts in between now and Grindstone that could restore some of that confidence. All that there is now is a trail in Virginia, in which I will need to somehow get from point A, to point B, then back to point A.

Right now, I have absolutely no idea how I am going to do that.