Race Report: 2023 Cowboy 200
Returning to a race always brings mixed feelings for me. On one side, there’s the benefit of experience – knowing the course, the logistics. On the other, there’s the benefit of experience – anticipation of the course challenges, expectations of performance. It’s a double-edged sword as they say. Coming back to a race as a former winner sharpened those edges.
This year, my running partner, James, and I opted to tackle this point-to-point race uncrewed. For my non-ultra peeps, that means we would only have access to pre-packed drop bags at intervals of approximately 25 miles to refill our vests, change shoes or clothes or get first aid supplies. Maybe crazy, but one of the pluses of returning is having a clue what we’d need and when, and what would be available to us at the manned aid stations. I’m not much of a planner when it comes to this, so my bags looked like a magpie assembled them – whatever shiny thing I saw I tossed in. About the only “plan” was spare shoes and socks at mile 64, because rain was expected Friday morning, and dry shoes would be a necessity if it was heavy.
Last year I came into this race just hoping to finish; this year I can honestly say I came in hoping for a repeat win. Now, I am not typically one who goes in with visions of greatness; rather I hope to run MY best and see what happens. But, that double-edged sword of previous performance expectations had me a little amped up. I knew from my UltraSignUp stalking that there was at least one woman who was going to give me a run for my money, and man, did she ever. Miss Beverly Abbs (who I affectionately nicknamed Babbs in my head, first for the obvious name similarity and second because she was going to be my rabbit) is a hell of a runner and well known in the ultra community. If I wanted a shot at a W, I had my work cut out for me.
Miles 0-22.4: BLAZING
Friday morning dawned as expected, warm and drizzly. The rain wasn’t unpleasant, just a very light but persistent sprinkle. We made our way to the starting line as the clocked ticked down to 5am, and we were off! As expected, Babbs, running with her husband, Alan, took off and set a pretty hot pace, around 8:45/mile. Myself, James and about eight others went with her, but the lead pack slowly dwindled to four by the first aid station at mile 10. I knew I had to slow the train down or it would not end well; 8:45 pace for another 190 miles was definitely not in the cards and the risk of burn out definitely was. Reluctantly, I watched Babbs and Alan slowly pull away as I dropped to a 9:00 minute pace. No matter. Still plenty of race left to reel them back in. I hit Tilden fire station and the first manned aid station, grabbed a few more snacks from a drop bag and a PB&J and took off.
Miles 22.4-38.2 CRUISE CONTROL
This section is one of the shortest between manned aid stations, and one of the fastest. The morning was still cool, the trail was easy, and everyone on fresh legs. A few runners caught and passed me, and I had to mentally let it go. “Still lots of race left,” became my mantra. I felt good and was well ahead of my original 55 hour goal pace, so no need to panic. It didn’t take too much effort to hit “cruising altitude” as I call it, so I let it ride.
Another bonus to this year’s race was live GPS tracking of all the runners. So anyone with the link could see exactly where every runner was on course at any moment. For me, this meant I knew exactly how far ahead Babbs was. Dawn had broken, the rain had just lightened up, and a quick check showed Babbs had only gained about 2 miles on me. A quick quesadilla down the hatch and I was out for one of the toughest stretches on the whole course.
Miles 38.2-64.3 THE REROUTE
Last year, 50% of the DNFs happened in these miles. The Cowboy trail was a victim of some heavy flooding that took out a few bridges, so runners were rerouted on farm roads for about 9 miles. This makes this the longest between manned stations and also the hilliest due to the reroutes. At this point, runners are also really spread out, so it can be pretty lonely here. I changed strategy to a 90/10 run/walk ratio after mile 40; body parts were starting to feel a smidge fatigued and there was “still a lot of race left.” I met up with one of the youngest runners on course, Jacob, and we put down 20 miles together. We compared mileages on our watches; Jacob was vigilant on the GPS tracking, providing updates on other runners and entertaining me with his questions about ultra running. At Ewing, two more runners caught up, Josh and Joe, and both took off after a quick refill. I snagged a hotdog from the volunteer, restocked my pack from a drop bag, and took an extra minute to shake all the tiny rocks out of my shoes and socks before they could become blisters. I’d blew through 100k in about 11.5 hours, but my quarry had increased her lead to almost 8 miles. Damn this woman is an animal!
Miles 64.3-85.4 DARK PLACES
I left Ewing feeling slightly defeated and was mentally preparing myself for a second place finish. Oddly I was okay with that – Babbs was a legend in ultrarunning and if I was going to play second fiddle to anyone, she was the one. I shifted my focus back to that 55 hour goal, which would still be a 2.5 hour PR and a heck of a run. As night fell, I slowed to a 75/25 run/walk ratio and prepared for the long dark ahead. By mile 80, mentally I’d hit a dark spot. Even though I was still running at a decent clip (12:30-13:15 pace), I was sleepy as hell, I could feel at least three blisters, and the solitude of the dark was getting to me. At about that moment, I got a text from my new knight in shining armor with a Spotify link to a randomly curated playlist. This proved to be my saving grace and just what I needed. I made it to O’Neill aid in better spirits, if still hurting and tired. Here, a lovely volunteer doctored my blisters and I put my feet up on a folding chair for a floor nap. My DJ savior also alerted me that Babbs was now only 5 miles ahead; I was gaining. 30 minutes snooze was all I allowed myself – somewhere deep down I was still harboring hopes of a win. The volunteers gave me a PB&J and a cold canned mocha espresso and shooed me off.
Miles 85.4-103.9 HUNTING
I left O’Neill at midnight, and called James to see how he was hanging in there. I hadn’t seen him since mile 10! We chatted briefly while I finished the coffee, then I picked it back up to the 13:00 pace (~80/20 run/walk). Before long I could see another headlight ahead of me, and the predator instinct kicked in. Every run interval I tried to gain as much ground as I could. Within 3 miles, I’d caught Josh (one of the gents who passed me back at mile 64). We played leap frog until about a mile out of Atkinson (mile 103.9), when his headlight died and we both shared mine. We came in to the aid station – a community center type building – and what did I find but Babbs!!! She was gearing up to head back out on the trail. I was tired and knew I desperately needed more sleep, but damn it I had CAUGHT HER. I dreaded the idea of letting her slip away while I slept, but I also knew I’d be a puddle if I didn’t get at least a little shut-eye. Compromise: I would give myself another 30 minutes to sleep and then I’d move my ass. Clearly she’d slowed and I thought – hoped – that even if she gained 3-4 more miles while I slept, I could catch her again. I slid out of my pack, headlight and shoes, ate a few slices of hot bacon (lawd so delicious), and plopped on a cot and tried to catch some Zzz’s. Unfortunately, I was too uncomfortable, and probably too amped up on adrenaline to get much rest. I got up and geared up, ready to start hunting my rabbit again…only to find Babbs BACK AT THE AID STATION. I was confused – possibly hallucinating? I asked her what had happened that she was back, I thought she’d left? She replied that she tried to leave but could barely walk and so was pulling the plug. I felt simultaneously elated and disappointed. While this turn of events put my chances of a repeat win pretty high, it also left me a little wilted. No one ever enjoys seeing another runner DNF, and certainly not one as seasoned as Babbs. I grabbed a Coke and by 4am, was back out on the trail and starting the “back half”.
Miles 103.9-123.7 WHAT IFS
Now, the game had changed. My rabbit was no longer on the course. I had just pulled off a 100 mile PR by almost 20 minutes. According to the tracker, there were only three men ahead of me, and the nearest woman was hours behind. Everything in my body was telling me to back it down, take it easy, there’s no more urgency. But…what if? What if instead of 55 hours I could run 54? 53? What if I could catch one of those men and get a “real” podium finish? I can’t say it was even a conscious decision, but I found myself still pushing the 13:00 pace. I’d re-caught Josh just before Newport aid station, meaning I was officially in 3rd! Still, my eyelids were heavy and fatigue was setting in. I laid down on a picnic bench for a 10-minute power nap. It worked wonders! Or maybe it was the hot ramen and cup of coffee I sucked down on my way out of the station. Either way, the sun was back up and I was on a mission.
Miles 123.7-144.7 BOILING
The sun was up, yes, and it was HOT. For me, these were the hardest miles. The sun was brutal. I was drinking water at an alarming rate, and had to slow to a power walk pace of 16:00 miles. Even that was difficult to maintain. I called a few people to chat which was a huge pick-me-up. Every tree or shrub that provided even a square foot of shade was an oasis, and I would stop and sit under them for just a few minutes. The difference in temperature between sun and shade was astounding, and even getting out of it for two to three minutes was a blessing. I also knew my next stop was Long Pine and its fabled bunk house, and I’d be able to take a cold-a$$ shower there if I could just get to it.
I finally arrived around 3:45p or so. At this point I was also feeling a few more blisters, and I decided that maybe taking off my socks was a bad idea at this point. I picked out a room, stripped off my dusty, sweaty clothes and took a cold bird bath – socks still on. I crawled into the bed and promised myself I would sleep for a whole HOUR! The alarm went off at 5:15p. I begrudgingly drug myself out of the (very comfy) bed and got dressed. I opted to put on the leggings I packed in my drop bag for 2 reasons: first, the overnight temperature was expected to be in the upper 30s/lower 40s and second, I’d had the unfortunate experience of dropping trou to trail pee right into a sand burr patch. My shorts still had a few of those nasty buggers stuck to them and the idea of 56 more miles with burrs in my a$$ was not appealing. I wolfed down some garlic bread and another coke for the road, and hit the trail around 5:45p for my second night. I was maybe half a mile down the road when I heard a beep from my watch and looked down to “CRITICAL BATTERY” and watched my Garmin die. Now I had a back up battery, but how had I missed the 10% warning?! I quickly fished the small pack out of my vest, slapped it on and started a new run. SH*T. I was sure I’d just lost 150 miles worth of split and racing data. Nothing for it now but to keep moving.
Miles 144.7-152.5 REPRIEVE
There are only 8 miles between these two stations, but in the waning sun it felt like more. I tried to get back to running here, trying to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall. I hit Ainsworth just before sunset. Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson were here and seeing a familiar face or two was great for the mood! I took a few minutes to eat a quesadilla and dig my headlamp out of my pack, said a quick hello/goodbye and was out.
Miles 152.5-174.9 NIGHT REPRISE
The second night was…cold. And mentally looking down and seeing a single digit number instead of a three-digit number was irritating. While I had slept a good hour at Long Pine, I was still exhausted. I put on the new playlist again to try to keep myself awake. Eventually I had to concede and I laid down on one of the more than 200 bridges along the course for a trail nap. I set a timer for 10 minutes, but by 6 minutes in I was so cold I had to get up and move. The getting up was getting harder every time. A couple of 100 mile runners passed me. I let them go with a smile and a few encouraging words. A couple miles later I started to notice a light ahead…though in my compromised mental state I wasn’t sure if it was a runner or a hallucination. Something registered somewhere and I started running again. Within a mile, I’d closed the gap enough to be sure it was another runner. Within another mile I’d caught him and put him in my rear view. That was it. Officially in second place! The boost was enough to get me to Wood Lake, and some more caffeine. The RD’s parents man the Wood Lake aid station, and Kenny saw me coming. With a hearty “Hi GIBSON!” he welcomed me into the aid station with promises of hotdogs and hot coffee. I flopped into a camping chair to restock my pack from my last drop bag and put on another long sleeve shirt. I exchanged pleasantries with Casey’s parents while they served me a hot dog and a couple homemade peanut butter protein balls. I chugged two cups of coffee and grabbed a can of coke for the road and took off for the last 25 miles of this thing.
Miles 174.9-200.2 ENDINGS
I was soo close. I was doing the math: it was 3:30am and I had 25 miles to go. Less than a marathon. My body was ready but I could not keep my eyes open. I would close them during walking intervals, and several times had exceptionally vivid mini-dreams. While just hours before I was praying for sunset, I now found myself praying for sunrise. I caught and passed the two 100-milers from earlier, and then eventually had to take another trail nap. Once again, it was too cold for me to really snooze, but just laying down and closing my eyes for five minutes felt amazing. I hit the sand hills just before dawn, and the sunrise over the hills with the mists lifting was truly breathtaking. Now I just needed to be done before the sun got high enough to cook me alive for a second day. Somehow I managed to drop back into a 13:00-14:00 pace, and before long I was staring at the Valentine sign. The Jeffersons were waiting for me there and sent me into the last three miles with a high-five and a cheer. I picked up the pace as much as I could across the long bridge, and then all that stood in my way was 2 measly miles of straight, flat trail. Those two miles were the LONGEST OF MY LIFE. I swear it was an optical illusion. I could see where the trail ended at the town, and I was moving my legs, but I swear that sign post wasn’t getting any closer. I cried I think. I was clearly delirious and was convinced I wasn’t moving at all. Logically I knew I was, so I picked out a shrub about 100 meters ahead and just poured all my focus into reaching that shrub. Then I picked another one, and another. I had to convince myself I was actually making forward progress. Eventually the post was my last land mark. I powerwalked the couple blocks from the trail head to the street Bolo was on, and then I heard the cheering. I broke into what little run I had left and sprinted for the finish line. Sprinted is probably optimistic, but I felt like I was Usain Bolt. I crossed in 52 hours 49 minutes – nearly 5 whole hours faster than last year. The next few minutes were a blur. Handshakes, congratulations, a flurry of photos, someone handing me a buckle and the trophy. So many smiles and despite my own cracked mental state I could feel myself smiling too.
