Rocky Racoon 50 Miler
February 4, 2006
My first 50-miler (and it’s all Michelle’s fault!)
Prologue
A great Houston-area running philosopher once told me “trail
running is running in its purest form” as we were gamboling over the
Since then, I have been on the fence about this 50 mile thing for a couple of years. Various injuries and the interferences of the “rest of life” kept me safe. The 50K was enough of a challenge, one would argue. Plus, I’m too old to be doing this! Still, there weren’t really any more good excuses not to give it a try for the first time on February 4, 2006 at the Rocky Raccoon 100-mile and 50-mile events. Michelle just kept telling me she was sure I could do it. I think Mariela chimed in there too, and I couldn’t really back out. And of course the time limit was not a factor, since the race organization was set up for the 100-milers to go ‘round and ‘round the forest for up to 30 hours. Plus, I knew that this is one class act of an ultra, in terms of organization, the Race Director Joe Prusaitis, the venue, and all the volunteers. On the other hand, although I had done about one “longer” run per month (Rocky 50K, Warda 22 miles, Sunmart 50K, and Houston marathon), I had not specifically trained for the 50 mile distance. Something was pushing me toward trying something new, and in spite of periods of self-doubt, a final encouraging e-mail from Michelle did the trick. I signed up.
My husband was not getting it. “You’re going to do what?” “How many miles?” While speaking with a rational person, there really are no good reasons to do something like this, but in my warped brain, it was clear that we don’t have to always have a reason for everything!. Deep down though, I was forcing myself to think positive and not dwell on the sheer enormity of the thing. I checked the race web site obsessively. I just had to break the distance up into little pieces, aid station to aid station, that was the plan. One mile at a time, just 50 times! It would be an adventure to a place I had never been before.
Since I live in
Race morning seemed perfect, temperature in
It was easy to get my packet, say hi to friends and acquaintances, make sure they all knew it’s my “first time” – but I’m getting more and more nervous. I get back to the car, get my final stuff together, put my contact lenses in, meet another first-timer, Meredith, and we both wish each other lots of luck. The sun rises quietly. Almost time to go. Back to the lodge, I find Michelle now waiting for me – I had promised to go out on the first loop with her and try to keep up – with the understanding that as I slowed down and she sped up, we would part ways without any problems. To each her own pace! We stowed our bags by a nearby tree, finally had to take that sweatshirt off to get ready to go. I’m not even thinking about being nervous any more, it’s too late, it’s almost time to start.
“The age of innocence”
A siren wails, Joe says “go” and we are off. Everyone is very relaxed and there’s suddenly
no pressure at all. Michelle and I start
chatting about what life has thrown our way since the last time we had seen
each other, and I feel relaxed, so far, able to keep up with her without
feeling like I’m pushing too hard. I
ran one loop with her during last year’s RR 50-miler, and suddenly remembered
my running-log entry that day “felt good, but don’t think I could have done it
twice much less 3 times!” Michelle
leads, and picks the point on each hill where we can walk. I love the first part of the trail after we
leave the asphalt and cross the park road – it’s mostly downhill, soft trails
muted by the pine needles, peace.
Talking about this and that with Michelle, I could let all my other
burdens go by the wayside. I just had to
focus on running lightly without effort, watch the trail and my feet, and enjoy
the moment. It seemed like we are at
the first aid station at the
The leg between the Dam Road station and the “174” station is the longest stretch between aid stations and I always try to break it up mentally into “before the boardwalks” and “after the boardwalks” so that it does not appear so endless. As we reached the dam, the sunlight over the clear blue lake was stunning and gave me another mental lift. I began to be tempted to walk a while just to enjoy the sights, but also wanted to try to keep up with Michelle a little bit longer. She seemed to be perking up herself, and about halfway through this section, I could tell that either she was accelerating or I was lagging, or perhaps a little bit of both, so I waved her on her way. Being alone wasn’t really too bad, I began to let the reality of this day sink in and gained confidence that I was surely going to finish, no matter how long it took. There’s a series of ups and downs back here, ending with a nice long winding downhill as the trail approaches the lake again and the long boardwalk crossings. Then it’s about another mile to aid station 174, where it was nice to see friendly faces among the Tornados Running Club, and have somebody call my name and offer encouragement. Got some coke and another sandwich and enough M&M’s to justify taking a little walk break while I ate them. Then I set my watch to the 8/2 run/walk cycle I intended to follow up until the bitter end, plus walking the hills. Hopefully that would get me around the course another 2 times. The prospect of the regular walk breaks was relaxing. Combined with the ease of the trail of this last segment, and the knowledge that I was almost done with loop 1, this was still feeling like a lot of fun. Suddenly I was already back at the Interpretive Center, and then embarked on the last mile of path where we again cross paths with the other runners, and again the words of encouragement and smiles were a welcome sight. Saw Michelle go forth a good half mile or more ahead of me, and thanked her for the company and getting me plenty of time in the bank to be able to make my 12 hour goal. OK, loop 1 is done – 3 hours 12 minutes! Got a dose of SE powder and filled up my bottle at the aid station, grabbed some Espresso gel as a change of pace from the apple-cinammon I had on me, and a little advil more as a precaution at this point. Nothing hurt. On to loop 2.
Loop 2
“Let’s do the time warp again”
Before I forget, eternal thanks to the volunteers and the Race Directors at this run. Everyone I encountered was happy, gracious, encouraging, and made me feel like I was very special. It was sort of like “ask, and ye shall receive.” There’s probably a lot of 5-star hotels out there who cannot match such awesome customer service.
While starting loop 2, I didn’t try to rationalize the moment or why I was doing this again. I just went on, like everybody else. Walked out of the Lodge aid station with another sandwich and some fruit, started running after crossing the road, and then went back to my 8/2 rhythm. Greeted the other runners as we crossed on the trails. We were all still smiling! Said hi to Ron and assured him I was still standing (famous last words). Ran a short patch with Bob Botto, another 100-miler from the H-T-Rex crowd. Crossed the road and back to the fun trail. This time I was surprised to see riders on horseback over to my right as I descended the path – for the first time since I’ve been going to the park. I knew they offered horseback riders and knew of the horse path, but had never seen them while running there. Obviously, things took a little bit longer this loop. Still, I made it to the Dam Road aid station feeling pretty groovy, had some coke and a couple of potato wedges, and moved on down the road. Started leap frogging with a couple of 100-milers whose name I never got but we all encouraged each other as the path stretched forth. That “far side” sure seemed a lot farther away this time. That’s where I got the “time warp” concept in my brain and decided that the concept of hours and minutes had just fled my consciousness. (Of course then I also got the “let’s do the time warp again” song from the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” in my brain, and started having to play tricks on myself to get it out!) I was starting to have a hard time approximating how far I had run and how far I had to go, but not really caring that much about it. Back on the trail at the far side of the park, the wind blew softly yet persistently through the pine trees, and there was no one there but me. It was a magic moment of euphoria, more guttural and instinctive than any heretofore experienced “runner’s high.” I just stopped once and looked up through the branches at the sky, listened to the wind, the birds, the silent absence of peripheral artificial sounds. Wow. OK, back to running, finally made it to the “Far Side” aid station, enjoying myself still, but knowing there was a long way to go.
That out and back saved me psychologically, since the distance was just enough to make a difference but did not leave me too far from a bit of a stopping point. Getting back to the Dam Road aid station I realized I had gone more than half of the distance. I tried to prepare myself for the longest leg of the circuit. After circling the dam we again came upon the lake, now in full noontime sun, a perfect blue. Someone else suggested we just swim across, since we could clearly see the lodge right on the other bank, and the water seemed awfully inviting. After several jests about changing the event into a triathlon, better minds prevailed and we pursued our quest. I crossed paths with a group of hikers and was surprised to see an acquaintance from about 15 years back there on the path. “Hi Janet” I said in surprise, as she also looked at me in surprised recognition and responded with a word of encouragement. What are the odds of seeing someone you know but haven’t seen in 15 years on a path in a park in Huntsville, Texas? At least that kept my brain busy reminiscing for a while and then I sank back into the same “time warp” until I made it to the boardwalk and knew it was about another mile to aid station 174. Boy, was the water blue on the lake. Boy, did I fall hard while gazing at the blue lake! I brushed myself off, laughing, since I had managed to fall very gently into a pile of pine needles, so no harm no foul. Glad no one had seen me. But of course 5 minutes later there I went again, ker-plunk, again while looking off at the water through the trees. Todd was right behind me, and courteously checked to make sure I was OK. Yes, again, the ground was nice and soft and (due to the “curse”) I have perfected the technique of falling. Still, my pride was little hurt. I decided to give myself a longer walk break to get to the aid station and enjoy a little company and change of pace (no pun intended). That seemed to be the trick, and I got brushed off, fueled up, walked that nice uphill out of the aid station, and made pretty good time towards the Lodge. Then I realized that this was the point where I was going beyond anything I had ever done before. What to expect? Would I break down? Reach new insights? Did I have enough time to run the 3rd loop before the sun set? I laughed as the 100-milers offered words of encouragement and came into the Lodge aid station ready to go. Just grabbed some coke and food and walked over to my bag to get some advil. Oops! I spilled the whole cup of coke onto my shoes. Both feet felt wet and sticky. Of course, there I was in front of my bag, which contained a fresh pair of shoes and socks, and I thought, “Well, that’s what I brought them for,” and decided to change right then and there. Of course, it’s hard to sit down and quickly manipulate laces and socks after running 33+ miles! And it’s even harder to stand up again. Wow. My feet felt better but the rest of me did not really want to go out there again.
Loop 3
“Uncharted territory”
But I did go out there again. Just walked on down the road. Of course with the shoe fiasco I forgot my advil and probably did not fuel up enough. Joined up with Mark Henderson and Rebecca Watkins, volunteers who were going out on “glo-stick” duty, and they helped me talk myself into getting going again. They’ve both got such an infectious enthusiasm, I can’t help trying to put on a brave front! (Hey guys, I appreciate it! But Mark, your singing needs tome work.) Back on the trail down towards the crossing and the Dam Road aid station, now I really needed those walk breaks. The fresh shoes were a good move in the long run, and I will remember that in the future (if I have a future in 50-milers!). I was feeling kind of achy all over though, and regretted forgetting the advil. My brain was making useless calculations but I still felt like I’d get back before dark. Once again at the Dam Road aid station, I tried to say hello and thanks again to all the friendly faces. They had pizza! It looked really good, but I was afraid of what it might do to me later, so I abstained. (It’s making me hungry just thinking about it now!) Proceeded towards the Far Side for the very last time. The sun was lower in the sky, and it was interesting to see how the trail changed with the shadows and the wind, and was never quite the same. Saw an armadillo rustling back there in the trees again too. Finally, finally, I glimpsed the blue tent at “Far Side” and felt a rush of elation just as I took another spill – hope I was still too far away for them to have noticed me tumbling flat on my face! That one hurt. I really need to pick up my feet, but my feet are so tired. Took a drink, turned around, back we go to the Dam Road. It was at this juncture that things sort of fell apart. My right shin started aching – whether I walked or ran – and the contact lens in my left eye started hopping around in my eye and would not go back into place. Needless to say, this cramped my style somewhat, since I could barely see out of my left eye and I started to favor my right leg. The trek back to the Dam Road was laborious, but I knew then I could make it, even if I had to crawl. As I fueled up at the Dam Road, one of the volunteers said “two hours of daylight left – better make good use of it!” and I knew I would be OK. 7 miles or so to go – I could do that in 2 hours. I knew I was getting a little crazy though, because several people made mention of my “great top” and I thought they were talking about the top of my water bottle! Oh well, thanks for the compliments everybody, I’m not sure why you were complimenting me, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
Wow, the route from the Dam Road station to 174 seemed endless. I started feeling sorry for myself, blinking from the stupid contact lens and trying to decide if it hurt more to walk or to run. No deep insights, no mental breakthroughs, this was a low patch, but everyone had said that there would be times like this and then they would fade. But I managed to stay upright, enjoyed watching the sun fall lower into the sky, and finally got back to the boardwalk. Now the lake had changed colors again, from the pristine blue to a shimmery silver. Quite a treat, I felt, to watch the forest and the water change throughout the day. Finally at aid station 174, I said a final farewell and thanks to the volunteers, relaxed, knowing I could probably do this last part in my sleep. I made it before the sun went down! 11 hours and 16 minutes – I finished.
Afterword:
Once again, many thanks to all those who worked the race and made each and every runner feel special.
Sometimes life feels so complicated, but a day of running in the forest will reveal that things are all pretty simple. You’ve got to remember to eat, drink, smile, and pick up your feet. Please send me more “rational” reasons for running long so I can keep working on convincing my loving spouse that this is really a good thing. Next time I’ll actually try to train for this, and I hope to see everyone out there again soon!