Loco Go Big or Go Home Challenge 100K

 Loco Go Big or Go Home 100k

With races finally returning due to the decline in Covid cases and high rates of vaccination, I was excited run my first ultramarathon since before the pandemic. I chose the Loco 100k for a few reasons. For one, the two races I was signed up for, Leona Divide 100k and Angeles Crest 100 miler, were both canceled. I had a pretty good feeling Loco 100k would have no problems getting permits for their race since they’d been able to hold the event last year, in the middle of the pandemic. Secondly, after about 5 months in small town New Mexico it was nice to give myself a reason to spend some time at home. The Loco 100k was the perfect finish to some time well spent in Northern California. Additionally, my research at New Mexico Tech revolves around monsoon season, so I knew it would be hard to find time to put in big training days, race, and recover in late June and July. June 5th was the perfect time to throw down a tough ultra before getting my head back into my research. Finally, changes to the Western States lottery rules made me feel more comfortable running a small 100k, whereas prior to this year I would’ve felt as though I was “wasting” a big effort that should have been saved for a Western States qualifier. 

Training had gone excellently. While I hadn’t put in many huge long runs, I’d been very consistent in the previous four months. 10 mile runs on desert singletrack were part of the daily routine, and big 20 mile days in the Magdalena mountains felt challenging, but very manageable. I had also just spent about 13 hours on my feet pacing my friend Jonathan at the Cocodona 250, so I felt confident that my legs were in good condition.

The race started at 5:15 in the early morning light. I spent the first 10 miles running at around 8 minute pace and chatting with a few people toward the front, but after a few bathrooms stops I was running on my own. This was the fastest part of the course.

                                                                                                            

At the mile 10 aid stations I felt great. I stopped briefly to replenish my gels, grab some food from my parents, and continue on into the next section, which went out and back across Chico Creek Canyon. This was the steepest part of the course. It descended about 1100 feet in 3 miles and climbed up about 1700 feet on the other side of the canyon before reversing. I ran the downhills well and did a mixture of running and powerhiking on the climbs. At the turnaround point (mile 18) I had to open a small plastic bin, retrieve a small whiteboard and write my name and bib number on it. For whatever reason, this turnaround point seemed to be placed in the middle of a mosquito infestation, so I tried to complete these small tasks as quickly as I could. 

Me at mile 18 standing next to me at mile 60. 

Returning across the canyon to my crew at mile 25, I thought to myself how much better I felt than at mile 25 of Bandera 100k, 2 years ago. I was starting to slow down, but for the most part my body was holding up.

I reached mile 28, called lollipop aid station still feeling good. Here there was about a half mile section that involved a bit of bushwhacking. It was slow going but I didn’t mind the change of scenery.

I arrived at mile 31 appropriately tired. The next section was about 7 miles uphill, and it would be another 4 miles after that before I saw my crew. These were a lonely 7 miles. I busted out a couple songs while I was out there on my own as a little pickmeup. At this point it was clear that I was struggling to run uphill, but was still able to run on anything flat or downhill. I often felt discouraged by the “granny gear” feeling of my running pace, but still, my watch somehow said I was running 9-11 minute/mile pace. It wasn’t fast, but much better than the 17 min/miles I would do if I walked. I kept this in mind and broke into my “granny gear” pace whenever I could.

At around mile 38 I was marching along, wondering when I’d reach the next aid station (which was about 3/4 mile later) and I looked up just in time to see a big black bear (which was brown. Confusing, I know) bolting away from the dirt road as fast as it could. My guess is that he saw me, decided he wanted nothing to do with humans today, and took off running. I was pretty stoked to have logged another bear sighting (my third sighting of a combined 6 bears), and also stoked that the bear chose to run away from me rather than toward. I wouldn’t have been a very good snack anyway. Too gamey I’d imagine. I reached the mile 39 aid station, quickly ate some food and got moving. I’d see my crew in 4.4 miles.

I had a rough patch between miles 39 and 43. I’m not sure what caused it, but these things happen. I did a lot of walking, even on flat and slightly downhill dirt roads, but I felt like if I could just recharge a bit going into the next aid station, I’d be in good shape. My friend August would be joining me at mile 43 and pacing me from there to the finish, so his company was the dangling carrot leading me toward that aid station.

I decided not to spend much time at mile 43, even though my crew was there. There was a 2.4 mile loop returning to the same spot before the final 17 miles, which had only 1 aid station after 11 miles. I figured I should hurry through those first 2.4, and then take my time to eat and do a bit of foot care before continuing onto the final 17 mile push.

I finished the 2.4 miles (which were a bit steeper than I anticipated) and arrived at around mile 45, ate some potatoes, drank some lemonade, changed my socks, and took off with August. The next 11 miles were the toughest of the course. They weren’t particularly steep, but I didn’t have quite enough water. I had to ration it to make it to the next aid station, which is always a source of anxiety. I even considered just topping off at a stream, which isn’t advisable, but probably would have been fine. August and I were able to run a bit and walk a bit. There were good times and bad times. It didn’t help that the aid station came a mile later than we expected. That hurt

We took some time at that aid station to hydrate. I’m pretty sure I looked like a lost dog at this point, but at mile 57, there was no way I was stopping. I drank half a liter of watered down coke, met a colorful character in the 100 miler who was in great spirits, and carried on. We climbed up a hill called “hell hill.” I didn’t actually mind it because it gave me a decent excuse to hike for a bit, and I was excited for the descent to the finish line.

In the final 4 miles, August and I mixed up walking and running. I reverted back to a strategy I had used toward the end of Western States (which August had coincidentally been apart of). 1 mile of continuous running, at 9-11 minute pace, followed by a quarter mile walk. This section was great. We were cruising downhill. Both of my little toes felt like they might fall off, but I only had a few miles to go. When I split mile 62, knowing there was still at least a mile left (due to either watch error or just a long course), I decided I wasn’t walking anymore. We reached a paved road in Butte Meadows with around 1 mile to go. There were flats and some uphills, but I couldn’t let myself hike for any reason at this point. Finally, August’s car came into view and we knew that we were close. I ran through the start/finish area and crossed the line in 13:30. It wasn’t my best race (Bandera turned out to be a bit harder and a bit faster, although Loco 100k appeared to be a bit longer), but a very satisfying rustbuster post-pandemic. 

Finish line, ft. co-crewchief Holly McLaughlin

I completely forgot how much these events hurt. I couldn’t eat solid food for a little while, and wasn’t able to sleep well that night due to throbbing legs. Still, there is something so satisfying about going that far into the pain cave. I don’t fully understand why suffering like this from time to time is so appealing. All I know is that within days of finishing these events, I’m usually on the internet browsing for another opportunity.

After the race, I made things even harder on myself by catching a 7:30 am flight to San Diego to visit my friend Zach with a few other friends. I’m sure I looked like absolute hell to everyone else in the airport. Thankfully though, I didn’t need to ask my friends Lauren and Maia to push me in a wheelchair, which wasn’t off the table. To add insult to injury, the flight ended up being delayed 5 hours. I really could have used those 5 hours at home in my bed, but such is life.

I’m very grateful for my parents who took the whole day to help me out, and to my friend August for putting up with my despair in the final 20 miles. I’m looking forward to returning the favor to August whenever he’s ready.

Race-wise, I’m not entirely sure what’s next. Despite all the pain and suffering I’m certain it won’t be long before I give the distance (or longer) another try. 

August and I at the finish.

Life-wise, I’m looking forward to an exciting season of research.

Food: Countless gels and blocks, Trader Joe’s mango juice, potatoes, lemonade, and tailwind.

Hydration: Two Nathan handhelds the whole way. Shoutout to my nutrition sponsor (really just my friend who mailed me one of these bottles a few years ago), John Zientko.