Let me preface, I am not a Cowboy. I was born in New Jersey. I fell in love with techno and fist-pumping, not George Straight and Dixie Chicks. So why run 200 miles across Nebraska you ask? Well, because sometimes, the best journeys are the ones you least expect. Let’s dive on in and discover what it truly means to be a cowboy at the Cowboy 200.
The Cowboy 200 is a “newer” 200 miler to the scene of races like Cocodona 250, Destination Trail 200’s (Moab 240, Tahoe 200 and Bigfoot 200). The race is put-on by Chase and Casey Hammond. They are amazing people and honestly some fantastic Rds. Chase has run many of the top 200’s in the country so they KNOW 200’s. As I entered into the 200 mile space in 2021, I always came in with the vision and impression of seeing just how fast that I can go for that given distance. In most 200 milers, they have lots of elevation gain and loss so having a point to point trail 200 miler that is “flat” and fast really appealed to me. What can I do at the distance? I wanted to explore my limits and also see if I could put up a time that helps move the sport forward. Coming from my days of college xc and track, I felt it would be something I could contribute to the greater ecosystem of ultras and more-specifically 200’s.
https://ultrasignup.com/register.aspx?did=99953
As we embarked on our Journey to Omaha, Nebraska I was excited and felt prepared to let it rip at Cowboy. I trained a ton of miles out on our Washinton Secondary Bikepath near my house here in Rhode Island and I felt like Cowboy could be a break-out performance for me. After a DNF at Black Canyon, Cocodona 250 and Jigger Johnson, I really wanted to stick this landing and finish this race and finish it with a new shiny PR.
The race runs along the Cowboy Trail. A national recreation path, the route travels over 200+ bridges, through various small Nebraska towns all on this unique sandy type of rail trail path. Due to two bridges out along the route, we did have some nice rolling country dirt roads and hills thrown in at 2 different portions of the course.
You are probably wondering: “Cole, why 200 miles on a flat trail? Don’t you like running in the mountains?” And to answer, Yes I do like mountains, but sometimes we need to test ourselves in different ways. I have been motivated and captivated by the 200 mile distance. And as the sport grows, as more people run 200’s, I really wanted to do something different than the traditional slate of current US 200 milers. Cowboy is fast and yet is also just as hard as a race like Cocodona. It has its own variables unique to this race, the trail, and the conditions of the event. Yes, you can PR here, but that effort might come at a major cost. How deep do you want to dig? How much are you willing to hurt, while running as fast as you can for 200 miles? That is simply what Cowboy provides, a straightaway as far as the horizon. A test that truly is uniquely “rugged” of its own accord.
The race starts in Ta Ha Zouka Park, located in Norfolk, Nebraska- roughly 2 hours away from Omaha. From the start, the course traverses just about the whole length of the Cowboy trail. At many moments, the trail runs parallel with the main road through town or the central highway crew and spectators travel on. It creates a fun dynamic where you crave seeing the lights of a town in the distance as you know that an aid station is nearby. You literally hop across town to town via the Cowboy trail throughout the whole 200 mile journey. And the race then ends at Bolo Beer company in Valentine; a small but cool town in the heart of the Sandhills region.
THE CREW:
Crew Boss: Ashlee
Jovial and Clutch: Charles Crosby aka, my Father
Pacer, Jack of All Trades: Matt Cantrell
The GEAR:
Race Start and Early Miles:
The race start was dark. We arrived at the park and was eagerly ready to get this thing started. The weather for Mid-September was hot. Mid 80’s during the day on day 1 with tons of wind. When I say “wind” I mean 50-70 mph gusts at times. The wind was always blowing out there and it created a whole other challenge of staying upright and conserving energy when at times, it became a headwind. I felt at ease for this one. After my DNF at Cocodona, Cowboy was my last dance. My true last shot for a strong run. I really wanted this one. And the hunger was there to go all-in. I made things more difficult than they needed to be though. I forgot almost all of my Naak nutrition and so I had to go off-on Tailwind, Glukos gels, and honestly baby food and fruit purees from Target. It was not ideal, but what I have learned is that in life and in running, you have to not let these things get to you. It was not going to define me. I define myself.
As we lined-up under the archway and headed out on the paved bike path, like any good 200 miler, we set-out at a nice comfortable clip. I was with one runner immediately. Billy Gunn from North Carolina who had run 48 hour events before but this would be his first 200. We settled into the long journey together. I saw some 8-9 minute mile splits which under the cool morning, would be welcome. Soon the path turned to dirt and the real Cowboy 200 began. We had about 10 miles to the first crewed aid station. Soon two other runners would join us and form a pack. Hans Van Zetten from Kansas City who I was on lookout watch on. Hans placed 4th at Badwater and with many other great results, I knew he has the wheels and the heat training to challenge for the victory. Tim from Minnesota was the other runner who had Moab 240 experience and was a wild card. As we packed-up, the pace increased with Tim throwing in some surges. Lots of low 8 min miles were run and even some 7’s hit our splits. I knew this was too quick. But I knew I could handle it. We hit the first aid station together. Everyone scattered to their crew. I grabbed some olives and got my bottles refill and then was off chasing Billy who blew right through the aid.
I spent the next 2 miles slowing closing back. Then soon another 4 miles and Hans and Tim were back. Tim eventually pulled ahead running what seemed to be some low 7 min miles. When we hit the Tilden firehouse at mile 22 is where I ran to use the bathroom and decided to make it a quick aid station transition. I left the aid in first at that point and threw in some strong surges. I was hoping that I could create some separation here and string out the field. With some 7:46 minute miles, I pushed to the water stop at Oakdale.
I split the first marathon around 3:18. Quick! The warmth of the morning had started to rise already. After a water drop at Oakdale, the course headed into the wind on dirt farm roads. This section was hot, windy and honestly, brutal. The wind was howling in my face and I tried my best to keep pushing up the real rolling hills of the Nebraska country side. This section was the first reroute off of the trail. I made a right turn that took us on a sandy path that ran right to the side of some corn fields. They had a big spigot that was spraying all-over and just made contact with myself and the path. By this point it was near 11am and the heat already was rising. Neligh at mile 38 would be another crewed aid station across a bridge at a cool old mill. It was at Neligh that things started to progress into that hard category. I think eating too much watermelon upset my stomach. Things will happen in these long races. You just have to find a way to keep on moving.
What I soon found to be a real challenge in this race was that crewed aid stations were also main aid stations, meaning any other stops in-between would just be water. SO for every 20-30+ miles, you could expect real food, electrolytes etc. In-between those 20-35 miles, you needed to carry everything you would need for that stretch. The course is flat and faster than others so those stretches can be fast but the Cowboy 200 is almost as exposed as say Javelina 100. The shade is minimal at best. Factor in strong winds, and this race exposes all of your flaws. Ice, yeah that only lasts for you for a few miles until the wind dries you up completely. So staying cool means, carrying more water to stay wet. But do you sacrifice water you need for hydration to topical cooling? That is the game of chess that is the Cowboy 200. Unless you pull a sled with gallons of cold water, you would have to run through hot, windy conditions under full-exposure and manage your fluids perfectly.
The next stretch was about 16 miles before a water drop. This stretch would divert off the trail onto more dirt roads but more of it straight into the wind. I laughed at this stretch because this was borderline ridiculous. Imagine almost being blown off of your feet, running in loose dirt, straight into 50 + mph winds…That’s Cowboy. I honestly did the best I could here. I tried to manage my fluid intake of electrolytes and water efficiently. Now near 12 noon, it was already 85 degrees. The wind was drying me out. And with 5 miles to go, I exhausted all of my fluids. I could feel myself suffer out there. “Just get to that water drop”, I told myself. I pushed as hard as I could but like in Harry Potter with the Dementors, every bit of life force was being sucked out of me. By the time I finally hit the turn and saw the water jugs, I was so thankful. I stopped and splashed the ice cold water on my arm sleeves and then proceeded to slurp down the water. I was there maybe for a few minutes. As I was about to leave, I could feel my stomach seize and suddenly I knew what I had done. I proceeded to throw up all of that cold water back onto the trail. I then tried to get myself back to normal for another 10 more miles until mile 64 where I would see the crew. I was now going under heat exhaustion. My stomach felt off. I was able to get back the rest of some electrolytes in me and some more water but it did not feel like enough. I hit 50 miles in the 7 hour range on the low-end and perhaps this aggressive pace in the heat was taking a toll. I did my best to eat my baby food and gels but with 70-100 calories a pop, I should have brought more. My Naak gels at 200 calories would have given me a little more consistent energy per packet to what I was working with.
Mile 64–When things get rough! The park at Ewing would be where I would see the crew after not seeing them for about a marathon. Ashlee would be there and I would then pick up Matt Cantrell to pace with me for about a marathon to mile 84. By this point, the 3-4pm afternoon intensity of the sun was starting to be less intense. I really suffered into that aid station the last 2 miles to it. I just felt overheated.
I saw my dad at the street crossing to the park and ran into the park shade. We threw ice on my neck and arm sleeves. I chugged all types of drinks. My protein shake, Pelligrino Lemonada, Coke, water, Tailwind; anything liquid I could find. I took maybe about 20 minutes here to reset. I had created about a 4 mile gap or lead from the rest of the runners with Hans in second leading the charge. After a nice reset at the park, Matt and myself headed out. Man was it great to have Matt along for the journey. To put in perspective, Matt drove from Indiana out to Cowboy, at least 12-14 hours. Now he would be pacing me through a stretch where I needed that encouragement. We continued a strong pace. Looking back on my splits, I was still overall pace of 9:36 a mile. I was slowing but not by much. I still kept 10-12 minute miles when I was running. The rest of the course would be run on the trail, no more detours into the bulk of the wind.
The trail started more hard-packed but as the race progressed, I realized just how loose and sandy it was. There was two distinct tracks on the left and right of center that from bikes had eroded down the trail surface slightly. But a fraction off in either direction would lead into what seemed like drier beach sand. With the trail being cambered, I decided to bounce between both tracks and sometimes- running on the sandy-center.
The first day is all about consistency. Matt worked with me to help me get back to center. I needed to replenish my electrolytes so we focused there. I split 75 miles the first 12 hours as the sun was starting to hit that late evening phase. We talked about all types of things to pass the time. We hit our water stops and continued onward to O’Neill at mile 85. It was in this moment that no matter what the result would show on paper, on the Ultrasignup rankings, the truth of the story could only be divulged this way. Through a long-form account. I have run a lot of races and a lot of ultras in my time. Cowboy was something different. It was truly a grand test. As O’Neill aid became a 5k away, I started to pick-up the pace to 8-8:30 miles. I was soooo ready for that crewed aid. I showed major chinks in my armor, but I was still going strong. This was not going to stop me from a solid performance. I really wanted the win. And I really wanted a big 200 mile PR. I did have a secret goal of sub 40 hours? Could it be done? I still had some pep in my step, but I was getting hungry. I needed more caloric dense food. O’Neill is a town known for having a major St Patty’s parade and has a very Irish/Celtic vibe. As we hit the pavement to the aid station, it felt like forever to get to this aid but once we did, it was a good one.
O’Neill Aid mile 85-Atkinson mile 104– The Night shift:
I needed another reset. We had planned for a 15 minute stop. My shoulders were aching, I felt gassed. Ashlee passed me over a cheese quesadilla. I did my best to eat it but I was so dried-out that it was hard to eat. I ate some mashed potatoes, drank some iced tea. Put on my sun hoodie, put on my Nebraska headband and headlamp. The aid station team of volunteers was incredible. They offered so much great food, drinks and service that really helped lift my spirits. Thank you! We took a quick photo together and then I had heard that a runner had passed out on the trail. I tried to overhear what was going on and it might had been Hans. Oh man I thought. I felt so terrible and really hoped he was ok. In that moment, it gave me validation in the reality of what I was experiencing that this race was a drag race and we all were giving it everything. Hans was only maybe 5 miles behind me at this point. Now I would push through the beginnings of the evening to the “halfway-ish point” of Atkinson. I think all of us runners were hoping we could recalibrate ourselves in the night time and make up ground. Of course, I think the consensus was that we all pushed really hard on that first day 1 that the goal of pushing harder at night was something we could say was wishful thinking.
The truth gang, is that I was running on fumes, physically since before mile 64. I never really was able to regain my strength. The night time for me in ultras especially the 200’s is where I like to hunt. It is about slowing down the least. Night is always hard. The athletes that can push through the sleep deprivation and not fall-off of pace, do the best. So I told myself, “Let’s be the champion of consistency”. And consistent I was. As I left the aid station, the trail ran by an old train-coach that reminded me of the Orient Express movie. It had all the lights on but no one inside. It felt spooky. Haunted. I did not have the time to see for myself, so off into the night I went. Matt had finished his pacing with me and that was a major boost at my initial lowest point.
I would live a million low points through the remainder of the course. Beaten but not defeated. This next stretch was hard. I felt weak and tired with the last 4 miles to go. I hit 100 miles in 17:28, a 100 mile PR in 200’s. 4 more miles would get me to the aid station right near 18 hours. It was at this point I was depleted. I struggled from mile 64 to now on not being able to eat enough calories. I ran into Atkinson weak and on edge. I took a long stop here. About an hour. I needed to stay until I could take down enough calories. I had bad blisters from the trail and the tops of my feet from the side to side of the sandy path was brutal. Ashlee worked on my feet. My father passed me oatmeal, a protein shake, a banana. I felt like a zombie. 104 miles in and I felt dead. How in the hell could I keep this going. It was in this moment that I felt like Hans would get me. I would bleed out a slow death until sometime in day 2, he would blow right by me like I was standing still. I tried to push those negative thoughts away from my mind. I had about a 7 mile lead. My stomach felt fragile. The roughness of the oatmeal made me throw it up, right on the gym floor. It was embarrassing to be unraveling like this. This is where the crew in a 200 is sooooo pivotal to your success. My team really patched me up. After that hour-break, I was out. I started to get back to moving on the trail. It was now around Midnight. Day 2 let’s go!
Day 2: The dawn of new suffering.
The night stretch was all about consistency right. I focused on moving forward, drinking my bottles, eating as much as I could. Time to get back on that horse. Cowboys do not quit, and I would not be defeated. The next stretch was a wild one. I could hear coyotes in the distance. The trail now had entered more pasture-land, and some of the most shade on the course. Of course I would go through the shade at night! I would not see the crew until mile 134 at Bassett. I would have almost a 50k all to myself. 1 water drop and 1 non-crewed aid station. I did what I could entering the first non-crewed aid. I sat on the chair and RD, Casey made me some ramen. Sitting in that chair would provide a new challenge. Soon it would be revealed. After that aid, the next stretch felt like eternity. I could see the lights to what felt like the drop would be near. As I approached the water drop on my GPX app, I could not see any jugs anywhere. The nearby house had dogs wailing and going crazy. At 3 in the morning, I did not want to hang around so after about 5 minutes going back and forth, I pushed onward. With only 1 soft flask left, I nursed that bottle for another 10 miles or 2 hours. The witching hour is that period when time almost stops. It was just me and the trail. When I pulled-off for a pee-break, I noticed my pee was the color of Coca-cola. Cmon man! Now I was close to rhabdo. If I could not improve my urine color, I could be at risk of having kidney problems where my race would end and I would need to become hospitalized. I was like “How can this get any worse?”. And with only 1 flask, this was going to be an issue.
As I crossed closer to Bassett, the sun was starting to come up. Surviving night 1 is always tough. The night was not really that cold. It was 65 and the morning dew on the fields formed an eerie-looking fog. As I hit a road-crossing, there was a really nice volunteer that offered some runners bites, I politely declined as that could be grounds for a Disqualification but it is the thought that matters and not seeing anyone for hours was a massive boost. I had a good few last miles to the aid station at Bassett.
As I entered the firehouse, I was greeted by Ashlee, my Father, and Matt, as well as a bunch of eager volunteers. I needed to change my shoes. I had run in the Mount to Coast R1, a premiere road ultra racing shoe. It had performed well but at this point, the soft bouncy midsole and exposed tpe outsole was maybe too bouncy for the loose surface. I switched to a pair of Puma Deviate Nitro 2s, which have a outsole rubber to possibly give me a firmer ride on the sandy trail. I definitely miss-judged the underfoot conditions and even heard the trail was looser and sandier than in years’ past. I went into the bathroom and immediately saw something not good. Little prickers, that I had picked-up from sitting in that chair at that one aid station at mile 113 at Stuart have rubbed me raw. It was bad! I picked those suckers off of my skin and had some serious re-lubing and bandaging going on.
So what I was hoping would be a quick stop, turned into a little longer one. I would pick up Matt again for a nice 10 ish mile jaunt to Long Pine. My stomach felt a little better and I was able to get down more calories than before. Could I be turning this thing around? When I look at the things that had already occurred, what else could go wrong? Heat exhaustion, a fragile stomach, low energy from lack of calories , almost rhabdo, bad blisters, painful feet and ankles, just sore everything was just some of the ailments I was battling. Matt made it a point with me to drink 3 flasks minimum of electrolytes between each aid. My pee color did improve over the course but slightly. This section had another off-road section to the aid station. Honestly, this section went really well. We chatted about the race, and how I still help a lead: about 5 miles on Hans. A gap had formed where it was Hans and myself out in the front. A two horse race. Hans applied pressure all night. I kept a 3-5 mile lead and he kept 5 miles an hour the same time I was. I knew that I could not falter and with the heat of day 2 being up to 90 degrees, the mid-day would be the crux of the race.
Mile 144: The Mayor of Long Pine and the Heat Tunnel.
Matt and myself ran under a bridge and soon entered the small little town of Long Pine. To the bench of the aid I went. I had some hummus and olives here, a protein shake, some coffee, and lots of bananas. I met the Mayor of Long Pine. A kind and enthusiastic guy. He told us all about the improvements to the town they were making. Ashlee was on point. Giving me exactly what I needed at every given moment. Was she psychic? I was really impressed. But again, she is the glue that holds me together in these big efforts. With a shorter stop, Matt ran with me to this really tall bridge they said had amazing views. Matt traveled with me here and snapped some great photos. Then he turned back. It was the late morning of day 2. 11am or so. I rolled through a Serengeti section that had a nice cross-wind. Ah the wind. It was getting hot again. I did my best to roll through to Ainsworth, Mile 152.5.
Towards the end of this section, it was getting toasty. I hit the aid around 12:30. It was already 87 degrees. I had not slept or napped at all in the race. Here, I would take a 35 minute lie down to hopefully recharge myself. I had about an 8 mile lead that would go down to 3-4 by the time I left after a long stop here. This stop was and would be my second to last substantial stop before the finish. Time to cash those checks! It was now 1pm and the crux of the race would be in this section. I was iced up, Matt gave me his yellow bucket hat, and I was set-up for heat mode. I had a few strong miles out of the aid station. I left the aid and knew it was going to be a challenge. I would now be in the Sand Hills. A sea of rolling dunes of grass and sand, as far as the eye can see. As I pushed forward, the ice melted within the first 3 miles. By mile 5, I was completely bone dry. I had 4 miles to the water drop where I had to power hike fast. The heat and wind combo was what could end my day. I still had darker-colored pee so a mis-step here would be GAME OVER. I pushed all I could here. Ashlee texted me saying Hans was gaining on me. From 6 miles, to 5, to 4.5, to 4. With 1 mile out from the water stop, I started running with all I had. I hit the water stop and the cross-winds were crazy. Think Hurricane force. 70 mile winds suck! The bucket hat was blowing almost off my head. It was acting like a sail. I took 4 minutes to carefully drink the water. I filled up my bottles with my Body Armor electrolyte mix. I soaked myself in the cold water. Time to push 10 more miles to Wood Lake at mile 174.9. Wood Lake would be the final crewed aid station until the finish. I began to now build my lead. I ran a spectacular section. It was until the final 1.5 miles where I was running out of steam. I was sunburnt, wind burnt, totally in full body pain. How? Can? I Keep ? Going?
Wood Lake–The Final Aid
I walked into this aid station totally on fumes again. I pushed really hard this section. I entered the aid right around 5pm. The heat of the day was over. Ashlee got me a strawberry milkshake that was heaven. There is a picture here where I literally have 10 different types of drinks I was drinking at that station. Matt would finish the last 25 miles with me to Bolo Beer company. Let’s run this home.
This felt like I could pull this out. I had a 5 mile lead, still too close for comfort for me. As Matt and myself entered the final remote stretch, it felt magical. The Sand hills was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was mesmerizing. Nebraska’s mountains of sorts. As the sun was starting to set ahead of us, I knew that the finish was mine for the taking. I stayed focused and in all the pain, just gave everything I had. We continued to push at 10-12 minute miles. I rarely wavered from that moving pace the whole time. I took in my baby food and mashed potato flasks every 5 miles. We had some bathroom breaks here. The occasion car or truck would honk at us –they have to be a part of the race.
We hit the final water drop just as darkness hit. It would be headlamps on, the final 15 miles. We started a count-down: 14, 13, 12, the miles ticked by. I could feel myself on the verge of collapse, but yet, I was able to keep myself together, just enough. Matt turned on some tunes and was such a great support for me out there. I needed my morale to be boosted and he did that like a champ. Matt then notified me that I had increased my lead to 8 miles then to 11 with only 8 miles to go. It was my race to lose. I knew then, I had it. Matt said I could walk it in at 20 minute miles and it would take sub 10 minute miles to catch me. Whew. It felt like a big relief. I ran afraid for 192 miles. I have never had to dig that deep before. I did slow here. 13 minute miles became the norm. I could feel my energy totally leave my body. Sleep deprivation reared its ugly head too. With 5 miles to go, I was overheating. I had gotten sunburnt and the head from my skin was radiating off of me like a furnace. I had no more water or calories on me anymore. All that was left was really salty LMNT that was too drying. With the last 3 miles, we walked and jogged for brief moments. I just did not want to pass out. We could see the lights of Valentine, like a beacon of hope. Almost there. We crossed the big suspension bridge and now only 1 mile away. “Let’s jog” Matt said. I grunted in sheer pain and exhaustion. It was a death march. Then with a half mile to go, Matt notified me that I could finish before midnight if I picked it up. So with once last squeeze, I pushed towards the finish. It was not the speedy finish I was hoping to find, but in actuality, it was the heroic finish. I could hear the cheers and hobbled under the archway. 3 minutes to spare. Overall time: 41:57. New Course record, New 200 mile PR. And Aidstation Fireball, Liam went back in the archives and says this might be the fastest 200 mile trail time ever run on a non-repetitive (short-loop) course in history.
I was embraced by Ashlee as I hunched over. Just emotionally and physically spent. I left it all out there. The adversity of my Cowboy 200 was my greatest test and I passed. Grit and Guts is what defined this run. It was not pretty. It was not my best-executed race. But when “shit hits the fan”, when it gets real, who are you? What are you made of? Do you fold and give up? Or do you push through barriers and continue to survive.
If I can take anything from this experience, it is that you cannot train heart. You cannot train sheer will. It comes from within. We all have it in us. How deep are you willing to go to unlock it?
Finishing at a brewery was one of the coolest finish lines of my ultra running career. The smell of that beer-drenched wood was the smell of victory. Chase and Casey, RD’s presented my awards and we just hung out. I tried to collect my thoughts and well damn, I was just grateful I had survived and did not need to go to the hospital for rhabdo. I was close. On a razor’s edge.
Cowboy was a race of a lifetime. To believe a 200 miler in Nebraska could be something so special! I never thought I was a Cowboy. But on this occasion, I found my Cowboy spirit. Cowboys are unique. They are a bridge between what is civil and what is wild. They tame the wilderness but are also humble to nature’s force and power. Running the Cowboy 200 showed me I was more like a cowboy than I once thought. Cowboys are determined, accept that mistakes do happen and that lessons learned are the best lessons of life. They live in the moment and take what they are given and about all, never, ever, give up. Being a cowboy, a real cowboy is about being one with the wilds of our world. There is a freedom and release that needs to be taken. That is the Cowboy spirit.
And to close… Cowboy 200 I hope was my imprint I can leave on the sport. I hope my time is beaten. I hope some of the top 200 mile runners in this world go to Cowboy and test their spirit against the relentless nature of the Nebraska plains. You want to see what you are made of? Run this race! There is something profound about this race, this community, and the overall journey through the heart of Nebraska. Sub 40 or bust!
Yeehaw!!!
Cresting the Summit 