Huntsville State Park, Huntsville, Texas
Saturday & Sunday, February 3 & 4, 2007
“Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon”
The Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile Trail Run was to be my second go ‘round at the distance. It had been advertised by friends and acquaintances as one of the “easier” 100’s. And, while “easy 100” sounds a bit like an oxymoron, there are those that aren’t as difficult.
The event takes place on the trails of Huntsville State Park in Huntsville, Texas. It’s a 20 mile course that is done five times. I remember seeing a sign, as I was running past it, that one of the trails was the Rocky Raccoon Trail, though I don’t remember where it was and I can’t find a mention of it on the “official” trail map. I’m guessing that’s the origin of the race name and it’s not from the Beatles song.
In a continuing effort to demonstrate my questionable intelligence, I had done Disney’s Goofy Challenge four weeks prior, on the weekend of January 6th and 7th. The training block in the fourth quarter of 2006 was geared towards both a fast marathon in January and a 100 mile run in February, in that I did a bit more speed work than I would have done for an ultra and I did a bit more total distance than I would have done for a marathon. It worked fairly well for Goofy. My 2007 times for the half and full were a little slower than 2006, but the temperature in Orlando was pretty warm. Still, I managed to score a second place age group for the half and a first place age group for the full. (Not much of an Epcot Shuffle the day after, only four countries.)
The big question was “how well would I recover from Goofy?” I didn’t feel like I had the luxury of taking a week completely off immediately after, so I did a week of easy running. I still managed to get in 52 miles for the week including a long run of 16 miles. I also caught a cold, but I didn’t really let that get in the way, only taking one day as a “sick day.”
I followed the “recovery” week with a “build” week. This was going to be the biggest week between Goofy and Rocky – kind of sounds like I’m getting my cartoons intermixed – and it went well, totaling 72 miles with a long run of 22 miles. I wanted to get in one more longish run before starting to taper, so I ran 16.5 miles on Tuesday which would leave me with about a ten day taper.
All in all, the period between the two events went well and I left for Texas feeling fairly confident.
“Rocky Raccoon checked into his room only to find Gideon’s bible”
I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, that packing for an ultra is a whole lot easier than packing for an Ironman. Still, it seems like, I ended up with way too much stuff. The weather forecast called for cold. Fortunately, it wasn’t supposed to rain, but the week’s worth of rain down there would make for damp and muddy conditions. I had a couple pairs of shoes and lots of clothing. Plus all the “support” gear I needed like my water bottle belt, water bottles, gel flasks, flashlight, headlight, and on and on.
|
Then there’s nutrition. I had a baggie full of Perpetuem powder – always makes me feel like a druggie – and a 650 ml container of Hammer Gel. Bringing the bottle of gel is a bit of a nuisance these days, having to then check luggage at the airport. But, I bring with me what I know works. Including the Pop Tarts for race morning breakfast.
We had a direct flight from Philly to Houston that wasn’t quite direct. We had to make a stop in Nashville for gas. Apparently, the winds were quite windy. So much so that they would hinder our progress enough that we couldn’t make it all the way from Philly to Houston on one tank of gas. The pilots knew this ahead of time and mentioned it to us while we were still in Philly. Along with the standard “We apologize for any and all inconveniences this may cause you.” I guess it’s better that they recognized it ahead of time instead of being up in the air and tapping the gauge as it crept ever closer to that big E. We made it to Houston, about an hour and a quarter late, got the rental car, and proceeded on I-45 north to the bustling metropolis of Huntsville. Home of a bunch of Texas Department of Criminal Justice facilities. As well as Sam Houston State University. And a huge white statue of Sam himself a few miles south of town. Huntsville is about 60 miles north of Houston and, it seemed, like the first 30 miles of I-45 was wall to wall business establishments. But, we made it safely to our hotel, a Holiday Inn Express, and checked into our room. I didn’t check for the bible. Instead, we wandered across the way to a Chili’s for dinner where I had a steak that was a little on the dry side. Good thing I ordered the large Shiner Bock to wash it down, and not the small size. |
 I took this picture on Sunday as we played tourist after the awards banquet and before the Super Bowl. That’s Renate standing under the “H”. |
The usual day before stuff . . .
Renate had to do about an hour of conference calling in the morning, which she did after our breakfast at Denny’s.
The race briefing was scheduled for 5 PM, followed by the dinner at 6 PM. I didn’t want to get to the park, about ten miles from the hotel, too early, so we killed a bit of time hanging around the hotel and then getting lunch back at the Chili’s. I opted for the small mug of beer to go along with my burger.
We also went to the supermarket across the way and picked up some supplies, including beer for Sunday’s Super Bowl.
Eventually, it was time to head to the park, a quick and painless 15 minute drive from the hotel. There’s a sign near the entrance to the park saying something to the effect that “Alligators Exist In The Park.” Just something to look forward to, I guess.
I checked in and got my race packet. There was no weight control for this run, so there was no need for me to step on a scale. We were left with some more time to kill before the pre-race briefing.
We walked around a little bit and found the spot for the Site 174 Aid Station. This would be about 17 miles into each 20 mile loop and would be one of the spots crew was allowed. (Along with the Lodge which was the start/finish of each loop and the Highway Aid Station, about four miles into the loop.) I wasn’t planning on any re-supply other than at the Lodge, but at least Renate could get here and see me and take pictures. It would be about a half mile trek for her on paved roads back to the Lodge while I had three miles of trail.
We didn’t go in search of any other spots on the trail, but headed back to the Lodge for the briefing. Which, fortunately, was kind of brief. Then we all went outside the Lodge and stood in line to get back into the Lodge for dinner. Which was fine, as far as mass feeds go. And, that was about it for Friday.
“Let’s go runnin’ now, everybody’s learnin’ how, come on a safari with me”
|
I know, the Beach Boys were singing about surfing and we really weren’t going on a safari, but it was “Early in the morning we’ll be starting out. Some honeys will be coming along.”
And, man, it was cold. According to the car thermometer, the temp was 30°. (That’s Fahrenheit for anybody who is wondering.) Definitely not surf weather. I was pretty bundled up for the start – two long sleeve shirts, a sleeveless shirt with my number pinned to it, shorts and tights, two pairs of gloves, and a stocking cap. There were those in shorts and short sleeves, but that wasn’t going to work for me. I figured I’d be taking off and putting back on as the day and night progressed, but I wanted to start out warm. I didn’t want my energy being used trying to stay warm. Had this been a road marathon, where I know my pace will be hard right from the start and the race is, comparatively speaking, short, I would have dressed less. But, it wasn’t, so I didn’t. Finally, Joe, the race director, said, in a low-key tone of voice, “Go” and 242 of us went. Into the dark, black yonder. Illuminated by a bunch of bobbing headlights and weaving flashlights. There’s the usual bit of chatter and a little bit of jockeying for position as people try to find a pace and a place where they’re comfortable. It’s probably a mile and a quarter or so that we’re running on a trail parallel to the main park road. Then we hang a right, cross the main road, cross a sidewalk and another road (or vice versa) and start running on the Chinquapin Trail towards Amy’s Crossing. |
 Why, before the start of races, do I always look as though I’m heading off towards impending doom? |
There were a few rooty sections and a nice plank bridge to cross. Some ups and downs, but nothing that wasn’t runnable. At least this early in the day. And there were some patches of mud and muck. Nothing that couldn’t be easily skirted or even run through. Until we got to Amy’s Crossing. This is where the Chinquapin Trail dumped into the Triple C Trail, which is basically a jeep road/trail that, for most of it, borders the park property line. This last bit at Amy’s Crossing is pure shoe-sucking muck. I guess somebody decided that blazing a new trail through the trees just to the left of the muck would be a good idea and the rest seemed to follow. Then, the left turn onto the Triple C Trail.
(As a side note, there was a corresponding 50 mile run that started an hour after our 100. Those folks, and there were 112 of them that started, would make a right turn here and would not do the out and back section to the Highway Aid Station.)
We had just under 1.75 miles on the jeep road to the first aid station, called Highway because it was near the highway. There’s bit more mud and muck, but, for the most part, it’s a very runnable section. There seem to be three or four of us loosely running together. At some point, we begin to see the frontrunners heading back towards us. It’s still dark and it’s pretty bizarre to see flashlights and headlights bobbing as they approach. Soon enough, I make it to the aid station. I decide that my shoes might be tied a little too tight and I proceed to un-tie and re-tie them. Lots of people come in and go out of the aid station while I’m futzing around with my shoes, but I don’t worry about it. It’s four miles into a long day and I’m not concerned about who or where. Or even what or why. Nor am I especially thinking about how.
|
I get everything relatively comfortable then spin out of the aid station. I don’t bother getting any fuel or water. Now I’m one of those heading back. I’m gradually passing some of the people who got ahead while I was shoeing, but I’m in no particular hurry. If I remember correctly, it got light enough while I was re-approaching Amy’s Crossing that I was able to turn off my flashlight.
Just after Amy’s Crossing we make a right turn back onto a different section of the Chinquapin Trail on our way to the Dam Road Aid Station. This is nice, woodsy, trail running. Things are quiet and the race seems to be surprisingly spread out. I’m able to just trot along in my own little world. There a few ups and downs, but nothing that necessitated walking. A couple of wooden bridges to cross, but no muddy areas that I recall. Maybe 1.25 miles, the last bit on what is called the “Spillway Service Road,” from Amy’s Crossing to the most visited aid station of the day, the Dam Road Aid Station. Of the five aid stations on the loop, the last being the Lodge, Dam Road is the only one we hit twice. |
 Sunrise over Lake Raven (7:15 am) |
I reach the aid station and hit the split button on my watch. I’m gathering data, but I’m not paying any attention to it. I’ll “download” it later for my usual post-event analysis. I have caught up with a few people and it’s a bit crowded at the stop. I don’t need anything so I just call out my number to the person with the clipboard. Through the other side of the station and out onto some more of the Triple C Trail. According to the chart at the aid station, it’s 2.86 miles out to the Far Side Aid Station, then it’ll be 2.86 miles back. We were warned that the biggest water hazard would be about halfway through this section. Joe had mentioned on Friday that, if we arrived at Far Side with clean shoes, we must have cut the course somehow. Oh, boy.
It was fairly comfortable and easy running to start. There were a couple of large road covering puddles, but there were boardwalk-type sidewalks along the edge so there was no problem. Again, a few ups and downs that would probably be walked later in the event. Up and over a bridge that took us off the jeep road onto some sort of double wide single track (if that makes any sense).
A few more rollers. I guess some runners have a philosophy that if you’re going to walk these hills on the later loops, then walk them on the early loops as well. That’s not my way of thinking. I was feeling strong so I didn’t walk them. I didn’t go blasting up them, I just eased up.
And, then it appeared. The mud puddle that probably could have supported a large family of ducks. Or alligators. I was behind a couple of guys so I decided to see what they’d do. One guy went to the right edge and the other went to the left. The guy on the left came out ahead, so I, obviously, went left, as well. It was mucky and muddy, but I was able to slog through and continue on to the Far Side Aid Station, roughly the half way point of the loop.
I don’t recall exactly where I was when the leaders started coming towards me. Just to give myself something to do, I started counting. I figured I’d stop counting when I reached Far Side and this would tell me how many were in front of me. I also figured it’d be the last time I saw the leaders. By the time I made it to Far Side, I had counted up to 19. I was kind of surprised. I thought I’d have been closer to 50th than to 20th. I may have missed a couple here and there, but I didn’t miss 30. I wasn’t sure if this was good news or bad. I was comfortable with my pace. I was feeling pretty much in control. It was a bit over 90 minutes into the run. (Ok. I peeked at my watch.)
I had told Renate that my goal was around 20 hours. This would have been almost a two hour PR from Arkansas. I also thought that a 3:30 first lap was a good target, but that a 3:15 wouldn’t necessarily mean that I had gone out too fast. A three hour lap, however, might not be a good sign. Looking at my watch at Far Side indicated something around 3:10, though I didn’t know what the next ten miles of the course held in store. Faster or slower? I wouldn’t know until I had run them.
Out of Far Side after getting my water bottle refilled and back towards Dam Road. Now, maybe, I was one of the ones being counted.
There wasn’t any real congestion on these 5.75 miles of out and back, but I did have to pay a bit of attention when approaching some sections – roots, mud puddles, gulleys, etc. – so as not to run into a fellow runner. It would be interesting to see how things changed on later loops, when the 50 mile runners were tossed into the mix.
There wasn’t much difference on the trail/jeep road heading the opposite way to Dam Road. The rollers still rolled. The mud puddles still puddled. I guess the major difference was that the board sidewalks that were on the left side of the road on the way out were now on the right side. Just keep on trotting down the way.
It was kind of easy to gauge the nearness of the Dam Road Aid Station on the return visit. There’s a 90 degree bend in the jeep road and there were volunteer cars parked there and the realization that the aid station couldn’t be too far away. And, for the first few laps it wasn’t. Again, call out my number as I enter the station, then just spit myself out the other side. There’s almost 4.5 miles to the next aid station, Site 174. It’s a crew-accessible spot, so I should see the Love Of My Life. It’s the longest stretch of no aid, but I’m well stocked with fuel and water. Plus it’s still cool. It’s also some of the more interesting running of the loop.
Leaving the Dam Road Aid Station, we’re back on the Spillway Service Road and then back onto the Chinquapin Trail. We had left the Chinquapin Trail a while ago to do the Dam Road / Far Side loop. Now, we were going to get back on the Trail and continue following it as if we had never left.
I stop to visit a tree.
|
Down into a little washed out section, and across two bridges. Trot just a little bit and there’s a steepish climb up towards the lake. The dam is on our right and I make a left turn onto the edge of the lake, Lake Raven. It’s kind of wide open here, and across the lake, on my right, is the Lodge. The Lodge is still about six miles of running away. Doesn’t look like much of a swim to get there. Wonder if anyone would notice. Maybe the alligators would. I opt to continue running and soon enough I’m back into the woods.
It’s not real difficult running and I’m moving along pretty well. It’s nice to be in the woods. There are rooty sections and a number of bridges to cross. (Most bridges are like the one in the photo to the right. I copied this picture from the Rocky Raccoon web site and I don’t know for sure it’s location. But, after awhile, most bridges got to look the same. There are those that had their own “personality” and I’ll talk about them when I come to them. Or, on a later lap to give me something to fill the time. Or screen. Or page if you’ve printed this out.) I’ve managed to catch and pass a few runners. So far, this has been way different from the Arkansas Traveller. For one thing, the runnability of the course is much greater. For another thing, it doesn’t seem like I’m sticking with one or two others as I seemed to do last October. I’m not chatting or socializing with anybody. There’s no Brian from Illinois or Laurel from Maine. Weird. Especially since there were twice as many starters for this race. Trot . . trot . . . trot. According to the Trail Map there’s a place where the Chinquapin Trail that I’m on now comes pretty close to the Triple C Trail that is the out and back from Dam Road to Far Side, but I don’t see or hear any runners. There’s a twisty, turny section of the trail, just a bunch of close together switchbacks that you might expect on a steep hill. This section was pretty much flat so there didn’t seem to be any real reason for all the extra twists. Just to annoy us, I guess. |
 Picture copied from Rocky Raccoon Web Site (http://www.tejastrails.com/docs/Rocky__Sto.html) |
I knew there were long, flat bridges up ahead somewhere, crossing over the swamp end of Lake Raven. Might as well continue along the trail and find them. I think it was somewhere before reaching the bridges where some guy goes zipping by. I mean, he was flying. I was momentarily confused. I had been running for a couple of hours, fairly steadily, I thought. What got up this guy’s butt? Then it dawned on me. “Are you a 50?” I called out, meaning a competitor in the 50 mile event. And he said he was. He was really motoring along. I wondered if this would mean a parade of the faster 50’s going by, but he was all by himself.
 |
 |
|
|
These are the bridges at the swamp end of Lake Raven. I think we ran
from the top of the pictures to the bottom. And, I’m pretty sure, we did the bridge on the left first. Pictures copied from Rocky Raccoon Web Site (http://www.tejastrails.com/docs/Rocky__Sto.html) | ||
It was still early morning, somewhere near 8:30 AM I guess, and there was a bit of frost and some little raccoon(?) footprints on the long bridges. Crossing these in the dark, possibly on lap four, but definitely on lap five, would be bizarre. I don’t imagine it’d be pleasant to fall in. Guess I’ll try and save those thoughts for the deep, dark night when all the night-time creatures are out and about and my mind is as well.
For now, I’m still searching for Site 174 and my crew. A couple more short quick bridges then onto the Lake Side Trail. With a big sign saying no bikes. This bit, roughly three quarters of a mile, would be the most consistently muddy. Lots of soggy spots that required skirting to one side or the other. You’d think the high side of the trail would be the best, but this wasn’t always the case. I tried to get a feel for where others had gone, but there weren’t a whole lot of people in front, so the trail wasn’t totally defined.
It doesn’t take a terribly long amount of time before I see signs of civilization. Actual signs, mind you. “Fast Food Ahead” and “Step” “By” “Step”. A bit further and “Pit Stop” along with a roll of toilet paper. Renate and I had walked this last little bit the day before, so I knew the aid station was right ahead.
 Reaching the Site 174 Aid Station (8:38 am) |
At Site 174, I give Renate my flashlight and my two pair of gloves. I get a quick smooch. I make sure the volunteers know I’ve made it this far. And, then I’m back onto the trail. For those following along on the map, it’s the Prairie Branch Trail and I run along it for about three quarters of a mile before hanging a right to get back onto the Chinquapin Trail. From Site 174 it’s just under three miles to make it back to the Lodge and the end of lap one. |
 Leaving the Site 174 Aid Station (8:39 am) |
There’s nothing terribly memorable about this section. Kind of my way of saying that I don’t remember anything about it. I think it was a bit rootier than other spots, but on the dry side. I made it to the Nature Center and had about a mile to go to get to the Lodge. This was also the part that we ran to start the day, so I would see those folks in front of me who were starting on their second lap.
I make it to the Lodge and see that the big clock reads 3:05. (Analyzing the “official” splits – 3:05:11 – as I’m writing this shows me to be in 19th place at the end of the loop.) I’m hoping that’s not too aggressive. I’m kind of planning on giving back ten to fifteen minutes per lap. That’ll be about 30 to 45 seconds per mile. I’m hoping laps two and three will be at the low end of the give-back because I expect, when the lights go out, to be at the high end for laps four and five. Well, let’s re-fuel and move on. I get a fresh bottle of Perpetuem and a fresh flask of Hammer Gel. I exchange my stocking cap for a ball cap and take back one pair of gloves. Another smooch along with “see you in 17 miles” and I’m back on the trail for lap two.
(Renate took advantage of the two hours before she’d see me at Site 174 to drive back near our hotel to go to the Starbucks. Not that she’s a coffee snob or anything – “I’ll take a venti, latte, cappuccino with extra sauce, please” – there just wasn’t any available at the Lodge for crew.)
Lap two . . .
Nothing exciting happened for the first mile up to the Nature Center where I made the right turn to get to the Chinquapin Trail. Then the brain and the body started to go haywire. I was just over 20 miles into a 100 mile day. It wasn’t a good sign to have mental and physical struggles at this point.
The physical was a negative twinge in my left groin/hip flexor area. It was uncomfortable lifting my left foot off the ground. And, since there were more than a handful of roots and things, sufficient foot clearance would be paramount. I don’t know exactly when or how I tweaked it. I know I slipped in the mud a few times. I also know I was doing a little bit of bounding from side to side around some of the mud puddles. I was kind of hoping it would go away on its own. I tried to ignore it to see if that would happen. I tried to think of other things.
And, what came to my mind was a question. “Am I having any fun?” I asked myself. And, I thought, this is going to be a long day if the doubts are already creeping in. I thought that if I was doing a road marathon – something I’m pretty good at – I’d be done by now. There would be the short term pain of going hard and going fast, but it would last for just under three hours. For this event – I still viewed the hip twinge as an aberration that would disappear – I would have a different kind of pain and it would last longer. “Is this what I want to do?” I asked. Again, “Am I having fun?” I really didn’t run into this at Arkansas. Maybe because it was my first and I didn’t know what to expect. Today, in Texas, I knew I was going to be moving for about 20 hours, maybe a little longer, maybe a little shorter, but it was going to be a long and painful day. It was probably the first time in my short ultra career where I wondered if this is what I want to do.
Not finishing never really entered my mind and I continued to plug away. I made it to the Highway Aid Station. I didn’t need anything so I just called out my number and left. I was still physically and mentally troubled. And, I was thinking, I still had three more loops of this course even after I finished this loop that I pretty much just started.
I wonder if the lack of socializing had anything to do with my state of mind. Or was my state of body dragging things down. I was looking for a couch and a shrink with a notebook on the side of the trail. Kind of a Lucy with a “The Doctor Is In” sign. But, I didn’t have a nickel, and I don’t think she’s the type to extend credit. (I wonder if any of the young ’uns who are reading this story will have any idea what I’m rambling on about. Ah, heck, they’ve probably skipped over to the video games by now.)
I get to Amy’s Crossing and I decide to pop a couple of Tylenol. It’s four hours into the run. Way to early for drugs. But, my hip is bothering me and it’s not getting any better. Let’s see what a couple of magic pills will do.
I’m sure everybody will be happy to know that I’m not planning on a step by step account of the next four laps. I think I covered the terrain pretty well during the first loop. So, I’ll try and give more of a highlight account of the rest of the day.
The one mile stretch of the trail between Amy’s Crossing and the Spillway Service Road was enjoyable running from a scenery point of view. And, upon reaching the SSR, I knew the Dam Road Aid Station was near. The day was starting to warm up and I had taken my gloves and stuck them in a pouch on my water bottle belt. I called out my number and in one side and out the other of the Dam Road Aid Station. And onto the Triple C Trail for the out and back to the Far Side Aid Station. I was looking forward to the massive mud puddle halfway there. Yeah, right. I had a total of ten times past that puddle and I was just counting them down one at a time.
Going out to Far Side wasn’t bad. It took a few minutes longer than it did the first loop, but my hip seemed to be doing better. I guess the Tylenol had kicked in. It really wasn’t all that congested for the out part of this out and back section. The 100 mile leaders were long gone and I hadn’t caught any of the tail end 100’s.
I was still running the rollers here.
I pull into Far Side and get my water bottle topped off. It’s 30 miles into the day and I’m starting to get into the run, both physically and mentally. I guess that’s a good thing. It only took about 4.75 hours and a couple of Tylenol. Maybe I’m a slow learner.
On the way back from Far Side, I started getting mixed up with some of the runners of the 50 mile race who were on the 2nd of their three 16.67 mile loops. They were recognizable by their red bib numbers. It wasn’t a problem. The trail was wide enough. There were a couple of sections that were only one runner wide, the big huge puddle for one, but, at this time of the day, nobody had to wait for another runner to clear out.
Back into the Dam Road Aid Station. The number checker was busy putting more wood on the fire, but I think she still got my number as I called it out.
There’s a bit of a drop down to get onto the Chinquapin Trail from the Spillway Service Road. As I pop onto the trail, I notice a guy walking up ahead. He’s on a cell phone. I think that’s a bit on the weird side. I stop to visit a tree. Might have been the same tree I hit on first lap. I caught back up the cell phone walker as he finished up his call. He resumed running, but I was able to pass him. (I know I saw at least three folks on cell phones during the day. First time I’d seen that in an ultra. I’m sure there were people stepping up to the 50 that had never run that far before – I’m assuming, maybe incorrectly, that the phone folk were fifty mile runners – and were maybe checking in with their crew and/or loved ones. “Hey, Dear. I’m fine. I’m out here in the woods. No, I haven’t been eaten by an alligator. No, I haven’t fallen down and broken anything. Yes, I’ll see you soon.” I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I should probably delete that from the story. I’ll get back to running, instead.)
I enjoy the trail getting to the swamp bridges, though that twisty turny section is still baffling and annoying.
 Pulling in to the Site 174 Aid Station for the second time (11:51 am) |
I think it’s this lap, but it could have been the next one, where there’s a guy with a large cooler balanced on his shoulder walking across one of the long plank bridges. I guess he’s hauling supplies out to the Far Side Aid Station.
(That aid station, Far Side, has to be one heck of a supplying issue. As near as I can tell, there’s no easy way to get there, no nearby roads or other car accessible spots. I’m sure they used ATV’s from the Dam Road area, and that would have entailed riding through the monster puddles over there. However it was done, they did a great job. Plenty of food and stuff out there.) I make it across all the bridges without falling in the swamp and waking up the alligators. And I successfully make it through all the mud puddles and boggy areas on the Lake Side Trail. Surprisingly, I remember some of them. It’s also nice in that enough people have traversed the section that the popular, not necessarily the best, line has been beaten down and is obvious. I come to the signs along the trail signaling the upcoming aid station. It’s nice pulling in to the aid station at Site 174. I mention to Renate that I’m going to change shirts back at the Lodge. I get a smooch and start back towards the Lodge and the end of lap two. |
|
It’s a relatively quick spin from Site 174 to the Lodge. I’m feeling on the good side and I’m approaching the end of my second 20 mile loop. It’s nice seeing a few runners heading out for their third lap. There aren’t a whole lot of them.
I run down the road to the Lodge and see the big clock strike 6:18. Doing some mental math gives me a lap of 3:13. (Officially, 3:13:41 and I’ve moved up to 13th place.) I replace the two long sleeve shirts with which I started the day with a single dry one. Of course, this involves taking off and putting back on the sleeveless shirt that has my number pinned to it. I also take off my tights. That proved to be a bit of an adventure, trying to get them over my muddy shoes. But, it all worked out. I grabbed my bottle belt and gave Renate a little kiss before heading out on lap three and leaving her with a pile of inside-out dirty clothes. I sure do love that girl. (Renate just mentioned to me that she had draped the wet clothes on the car and on a little retaining wall so that they could dry while she was eating her lunch. This way they’d be ready for the evening. Am I a lucky guy, or what?) |
 The last stretch to the Lodge at the end of lap two (12:18 pm) |
Lap three . . .
I sort of expected this to be the most congested lap of the day. I figured I’d be catching up to some of the slower 100 runners and I’d also be more intermixed with those people running the 50 mile event. I didn’t foresee a problem, there were only a couple of spots on the various outs and backs where running was sort of limited to one lane.
I started running a little bit with Hans and Peter, with Robert not too far back. The trail sections of the course were nice and quiet, pretty much just us running along. No real conversation, just sort of occupying the same general area. On the jeep roads, the outs and backs, there was more interaction with other runners. Lots of encouragement back and forth. I admit I wasn’t as vocal in response as some of the others were towards me. I still wasn’t 100% mentally into the day and I had neither the energy nor the desire to talk much with my fellow competitors. Mostly it was just a half-hearted thumbs up when someone said “Good job.” You pretty much got used to who you were seeing, and whether they were closer or further from the turnaround points each time you saw them. For the most part, the race seemed to have stabilized with, at least from my limited point of view, not a whole lot of position changing. This was still only the third lap and people were still doing fairly well. For those who had gone out too quickly, possibly including me, the wheels would start to come off sometime during the fourth lap was my guess.
Not much new happens during the third lap. Upon reaching the Far Side Aid Station, I’m halfway through. I glance at my watch and see that it’s at eight hours. That’s way faster than it should be if my goal is 20 hours. I’m not entirely sure what to think, but I don’t really imagine I’ll take 12 hours to do the second 50 miles. Even taking into account fatigue and the sun going down. I guess only time will tell.
I’m starting to get bored with some sections of the loop. The squiggly section a little before the swamp bridges continues to annoy me. Made a little more so on this lap when I caught up to a group of about six runners and I had to, politely, pass them. Everybody, during the entire race, was nice and would move over to the side when they noticed me coming or heard me say something like “on your left.”
I did see an armadillo rooting around in the woods. I guess they really do live and aren’t just roadkill along the sides of the Texas highways.
There were a few scattered spectators at the ends of the long bridges, offering encouragement and kind words. During the second and third laps, I would run into the random group of hikers/walkers out on the trails, including a group of, I think, boy scouts towards the end of loop three. It seems like most of the walkers had dogs, on or off leash, but that didn’t really pose a problem. Other than the two largish guys with the big, leashed dog. This was out on the Triple C Trail on the way back from Far Side. They were moving at a decent clip, half jogging and half fast walking. It was a little difficult to negotiate around them.
I successfully crossed the swamp bridges for the last time in daylight. The Lake Side Trail is getting worse, it seems, as would be expected with 350 people running along it multiple times.
(In addition to all the muddy sections on the course, there were lots of sandy sections. It wasn’t true, but it seemed like every sandy section followed a muddy section. So, we get our shoes all wet and muddy and then give them a nice coating of sand. Nothing like running down the trail with “breaded” shoes. I’m taking a little writer’s liberty here, and probably elsewhere in this story, and making things sound worse than they were.)
 The third time to Site 174 (3:12 pm) |
 Leaving Site 174 (3:14 pm) |
Renate is as cheerful as always when I get to the aid station at Site 174. It’s been a little over nine hours since the run started and I’m about 57 miles through the day. I tell Renate I’ll change shoes back at the Lodge, but I’m good as far as clothing goes. I get my water bottle topped off and grab a cup of soda. (It might have been 7Up at this point. I started with the Coke a little earlier in the run than I would have normally and, if I recall correctly, the aid stations were out of it for the third lap.) There’s a little bit of a rise leaving Site 174, but I think I’m still running, or jogging slowly, the uphills. It also has a few roots, but these don’t present any problem. There are some worse root spots on the way back to the Nature Center.
And, I come in contact with the troop of boy scouts or some such. They’re loaded down with packs and appear to be looking at maps. It’s an intersection of a couple of trails, so I guess they’re figuring out which way to go. I know where I’m headed, there are plenty of race signs, plus a bunch of little flags blocking questionable turns.
 Getting to the Lodge at the end of loop 3 (3:41 pm) |
I reach the Nature Center and start on the last mile or so of the third loop, the back and out section to the Lodge. There are a couple of the same 100 people I’ve been “chasing” all day and more than a few 100s who, I guess, are starting on their third lap. There are also the 50s mixed in. All in all, it’s a bit busy.
There’s a nice little bit of runnable, sort of downhill trail and then the roads and sidewalks of the Lodge area. As I approach the Lodge turnaround point I see the big clock reading 9:41. (That gave me a third loop time of 3:22:05 and I’ve picked up a spot to move into 12th. By the way, and I think I mentioned this earlier, I don’t know my place and I only have a rough idea of my lap times as I’m participating. Most of the number crunching is being done as I write this up.) If I do an average, I’m running about 3:14s per loop. I know I’m not, it’s just a number to play with. |
 I’ll take these ugly orange ones in a size 11, please. |
I run around the cone that says “Turnaround” on it and immediately plop my butt in a chair that Renate has procured and positioned off to the side. I’m chatting with her as well as a couple of spectators as I change shoes. Even though my socks are a bit damp, I don’t bother changing them. Mostly because I don’t want to take them off and see how bad my toes are doing. I know I have a few blisterish spots, though nothing that is really causing me any problem.
Renate has put my new bottle of Perpetuem and my new flask of Hammer Gel into my supply belt. I get my flashlight and headlight since I know it’s going to be dark sometime during this fourth loop. I pop a couple more Tylenol. I hadn’t taken any since the first two about five hours ago. I was feeling pretty good, a bit sore, but I remembered how well the Tylenol seemed to work towards the end of the Arkansas Traveller back in October and I was hoping to preemptively avoid too much additional pain and suffering. But first I had to reach down and pick up one of the little pills from the road when I dropped it. |
Lap four . . .
A quick kiss and back out for my fourth loop. I knew this was going to be toughest one mentally. I had spun around the course three times already and I still had two more to go. The last one is easy, relatively speaking, because it’s the last one. This was only the fourth of five. Plus, I knew it was going to get dark sometime while I was out in the woods. I wasn’t worried about lions, or tigers, or bears. Heck, I wasn’t even worried about alligators.
Since early in the third lap, I had been leapfrogging back and forth with Peter, who was sort of local to the area, being under two hours from the park. I remember asking him his age once when he was right behind me. I was hoping he was 50-something or 30-something. But, no, he was 48, same as I. As he went past, I said “Well, I’m at best second in our age group.”
(Since Peter and I were always coming in to the Site 174 Aid Station and/or the Lodge pretty close to each other, Renate ended up spending a lot of time with Peter’s wife, Karen, and their dog Jessie.)
|
A bit after passing the Nature Center for the fourth time – I should mention that there was a volunteer stationed here to help direct car traffic. She had her lawn chair, but every time I came through she was up and about. I always thanked her for being out and the last time I kidded with her about having no friends since she was always all by herself – I put on the pair of gloves I had stashed in one of the pouches of my supply belt. It was a little after 4 in the afternoon and it had been cloudy for awhile, so there was not a whole lot of heat. I was comfortable with the one long sleeve shirt and shorts, but my hands were getting a bit chilled.
Renate had hustled out to Amy’s Crossing and was standing there cheering when I came back from the Highway Aid Station. (The official race photographer was there along with a snow white dog with lots of fur. How that dog wasn’t a complete mess of mud amazed me.) Since this wasn’t an official crew spot, I didn’t stop for a smooch as I didn’t want to get disqualified for assistance at an unauthorized spot. And, being brain dead as well as surprised, I probably didn’t tell her that I love her. I continued up the jeep road and made the right onto the trail on the way to Dam Road. |
 Approaching Amy’s Crossing – Lap 4 (4:42 pm) That’s Peter in blue behind my right shoulder. I don’t think the two people on the right of the trail are racers. |
No surprises. I even recognized some of the terrain. I had begun walking up the ups and I could tell that things were going to head south at some point. I had been dealing with a little bit of an upset stomach since leaving the Lodge to start the fourth lap – the Tylenol, maybe? though it hadn’t negatively affected me in the past – and getting in calories was getting to be a bit of a struggle. When I got to the Dam Road Aid Station I asked for a cup of just broth, no noodles. Peter pulled in just to the aid station just as I was asking and he said it sounded good and wanted some as well. It seemed to work a whole lot better for him than for me as he took off at a high rate of speed towards the Far Side Aid Station. That would be the last of us running together for the race.
I walked along sipping my cup of broth before dropping the empty cup at a trash box a little down the road. The warm liquid seemed to stay down and I was able to run somewhat easily. The board sidewalks alongside a couple of the puddles were still in good shape. And, when I got to the road-covering puddle, some guy was doing some grounds keeping. He had beaten down and added some grass/weeds to the right side so it was a bit better getting around it. Thanks, buddy, that worked well.
I reach the aid station at Far Side. It’s getting to the point where things are teetering. It’s 70 miles into the run and about 5:30 PM. I’ve been mobilizing for 11.5 hours. It’s a little depressing knowing I have to come back to this aid station yet again. It’s not dark yet, but that’s coming. I’m sore, but not so much that I can’t run a bit. There’s still no Coke at the aid stations so I don’t get that sugar/caffeine boost. I’m drinking some Perpetuem, but not a whole lot. And I’ve kind of given up on the gel. I grab a handful of chips as I head out of Far Side. There are a couple of walkable sections coming up.
In hindsight, it was probably a lack of calories that contributed to my mental funk.
The trip back to the Dam Road Aid Station (the eighth visit to this spot) is uneventful. I’m still making decent time. I knew it was just under three miles to Far Side and just under three miles back. I took note of the splits each way and I was happy that they were both under thirty minutes. And that included some walking. I got another cup of broth at Dam Road and started down the Spillway Service Road.
 |
 |
|
|
Renate took these pictures of the setting sun about 6 pm. I was just leaving the Dam Road Aid Station on the way to the Site 174 Aid Station. | ||
|
I knew darkness, when it came, would appear rather suddenly, so I took advantage of the terrain and got my flashlight and headlight ready. Since Peter had left me on the way out to Far Side, I seemed to be spending most of my time traveling alone. That was ok. I wasn’t in much of a chatty mood. I made the left turn onto the trail, down the little dip, and found the tree I had visited the past three laps. Or one that looked a lot like it. In all likelihood, I was at a different tree each time. Same general area, though.
Through the washed out area and across the couple of bridges. Back up to the spillway and then another left turn onto the trail that was next to the lake and across from the Lodge. The sun had set and darkness had risen. That area was all lit up and it looked pretty neat from my vantage point. I was certainly looking forward to this position on the last lap. My pace slowed a little more. I was walking more of the ups as well as through some of the rootier sections, but I was still trying to run as much as possible. I caught up with a train of runners walking in the twisty section before the long bridges. There must have been five or six of them, like the lap before. Passing wasn’t too bad, though I think I surprised a couple of them. |
 Some of the bridges had little up and down ramps. These ramps became more and more challenging for the fourth and fifth loops. Picture copied from Rocky Raccoon Web Site (http://www.tejastrails.com/docs/Rocky_Sto.html |
|
Running across the long bridges in the dark was kind of bizarre. Hearing little splashing noises below and wondering if the bridge troll was stirring. No spectators on this lap – afraid of alligators? Trolls? Other things that go “bump” in the night? Then through the boggy Lake Side Trail. I missed my line on a few of the mini-swamps and went up to my ankles in mud. It was harder to pick out the best way around them in the dark and, when I guessed wrong, it was just a matter of plunging through.
The Site 174 Aid Station was where it had been the three previous loops. And, so was Renate. I told her I would be changing shirts at the Lodge, but otherwise I should be good to go. She had a bottle of Coke with her, so I chugged down half of it. The picture to the right shows me getting something from the volunteers, but I don’t remember what it was. I think this might have been where I got the cup of veggie broth. Then it was back into the deep, dark woods for the few miles back to the Lodge. Which was pretty uneventful until . . . |
 The fourth time to Site 174 (6:49 pm) |
“He said Rocky you met your match and Rocky said, doc it’s only a scratch”
And, it wasn’t even that. I’m inbound towards the lodge at the end of my fourth loop. It’s the section where the inbound and the outbound meet and mingle. It’s dark. I’ve trotted approximately 79 miles. I’m going up a very slight incline when my right foot decides to come into contact with something. I must have flown through the air, very briefly, because I sort of came to a skidding stop in a bit of sandy dirt. Kind of like a head first slide into second base. I think I was safe. It was a bit of a struggle to get up, but get up I did. I dusted myself off and proceeded towards third. I mean home. The Lodge. Whatever.
The big clock said 13:24 which gave me a lap time of 3:43:19. That was 21 minutes slower than lap three. Acceptable with the darkness and fatigue, though not ideal. I had managed to sneak up a couple of places into 10th. Looking at the race-provided splits as I write shows one ahead of me DNF’d after three laps and I passed one guy on the course. That was impossible to tell with the 50’s still out there as well as the 100’s on lap three.
I pulled off the shirts I had on and put on the two long sleeve shirts I had started the day with – they had dried out nicely – before putting the sleeveless shirt with the number back on. I wasn’t going to, but Renate insisted that I put my tights back on. The temps had been steadily dropping since the sun went down and she was cold, well, colder, so I did. Probably a good thing. I also popped two more Tylenol, maybe I’m turning into a drug addict. That whole process took a bit more time than I would have liked. I was under a deadline. I knew the winner would be approaching sometime soon – I didn’t think he had already finished – and I wanted to avoid being lapped.
Lap five . . .
I glanced at the big clock as I was leaving and saw 13:30 (turns out the winner did 13:32 so I got out just in the nick time) and realized that breaking 18 hours was sort of, maybe, if I could just keep going, doable. One foot in front of the other for 4.5 hours. I knew it was going to be a struggle and I didn’t think much about it. Nor did I do any math as I was going through the aid stations.
The good was that it was my fifth and final loop through Huntsville State Park. The bad was that I had already done four laps and I was pretty sick of the course. The ugly was my pace. It was borderline pathetic. But, as bad as things were for me, I knew there were people out there who still had two laps to go. At least they possibly had a sunrise to look forward to. Me, I had a Guinness to look forward to.
I shuffled and/or walked my way to the Highway Aid Station. I looked at my split when I got there, just under an hour to cover the just over four miles, and knew the rest of the loop would tend towards the bad and the ugly. I thanked the volunteers, as I tried to do at each stop, and left, never to return. Other than the section from Dam Road to Site 174, the 4+ miles from the Lodge to the Highway Aid Station was the longest between aid stations. The next few splits were going to be in the just under three mile range. If I was running well, I’d be just under thirty minutes each time. For this loop, I figured if I could be under forty minutes each time, that would put me back at the Dam Road Aid Station three hours into this loop and leave me about 1.5 hours to cover the last seven miles of the course. I guess I was doing some math as I was traversing the trails in the dark. Once a numbers geek, always a numbers geek.
I reach Dam Road in 36 minutes. So far, so good. They didn’t have any broth, only noodles, so I didn’t take anything. Again, I have to do better with nutrition in the future.
Out to Far Side, dealing with all the standing water. Still runners heading in both directions. There’s a little bit of a traffic jam at the monster puddle, but it’s over quickly. I don’t recall seeing Peter along this stretch. He was moving well the last time I saw him when I was heading out to the Highway Station while he was heading away from it.
I reach Far Side and notice that it’s taken me 38 minutes. Ok. I’m still under my forty minute target. I’m doing a bit of walking, but things aren’t too, too bad. The temps had continued to drop, but I’m only cold while I’m standing at an aid station or walking away from an aid station while drinking. And, the aid stations had gotten supplies of Coke so I was drinking that.
Back out of Far Side. I had ten miles to go and about 2:20 to cover it to break 18 hours. That was roughly 14 minutes per mile. I didn’t think I was at the point where I could shut down the running and walk it in. I kept running as much as I could, even if it was a run a few steps, walk a few steps, run a few steps type of gait. I’m sure it would have looked comical to anybody watching. Fortunately, it was dark and everyone was, for the most part, involved in their own little worlds.
I passed a guy shortly after leaving Far Side, and, almost immediately, fell flat on the ground. Same type of fall as before. Mostly just skidding on my hands. The guy behind me didn’t say anything, which I found to be kind of weird. He did help pick me up, which was good. It almost felt like I fell in slow motion and getting up was even slower than that. As I got up, I said “Nothing hurt but my pride.” I walked and re-grouped for about a minute and then went past the guy again saying, “Let’s try this again.” That time I was successful.
I’m not sure why, but every time I seemed to roll an ankle, and I did once severely (early in the day and the guy behind me said “That had to hurt”, but it really didn’t) and several times moderately, it was the left one. And every time I seemed to catch my foot on a root or something it seemed to be the right one.
I made it back to the Dam Road Aid Station, quietly thankful after passing each large puddle that I wouldn’t be dealing with them again. A split check gave me a time of 39 minutes. I’ll blame the slower time on the fall. Now, I had seven miles to go and 1:45 to do it. I still couldn’t walk it in. I’d have to put some effort if I was going to break 18 hours. Which, considering my original goal was to be right around 20 hours, would be quite an achievement.
I also knew this was the longest gap between aid stations, almost 4.5 miles. The three miles or so on this side of Lake Raven weren’t all that bad, though there were small bridges and rooty sections. The last one plus miles was dealing with the long bridges and then the swampy Lake Side Trail.
I went through the dip after the Spillway Service Road, visited my tree for the last time, spun through the woods and made it up to the trail bordering the lake with the Lodge and all it’s lights and it’s finishing line and it’s warmth and it’s chairs and the ability to stop running and . . . Then, I was back in the woods.
And, this was the first time all run that the “xx bottles of beer” song popped into my head. If anybody read my story from the Arkansas Traveller 100, they might remember that I was mentally singing about bottles of beer right from the start. Today, I didn’t have that problem. In fact, I never really had any song stuck in my mental jukebox. I think here, when looking across at the Lodge, thinking about the bottle of Guinness that awaited at the end of the lap, triggered the song. It was, actually, mildly amusing to be thinking about it with five or six miles to go. I had already “consumed” 95 miles of beer. But, I still had to get done.
There was a lot of the run, walk, run, walk, run form of locomotion. I’d randomly see a flashlight bobbing up ahead and I’d make an effort to catch and pass the individual. And, I’d run a bit extra after making the pass so as to look like I was a real runner.
I went through the twisty, turny, annoying section for the last time. I know I said “this is the last time” in a lot of places.
I crossed the long bridges and headed for the Lake Side Trail. I had a better memory and took a good line for most of the swampy areas. I was fast walking those sections. I saw the signs that signaled the impending Site 174 Aid Station. And when I reached the aid station, I saw that my watch said 17:20 for the race. I had forty minutes to cover the last just under three miles. I really didn’t think I had that in me since it had taken just over an hour to negotiate the almost 4.5 miles from Dam Road to Site 174. I thought it was going to be 18:0x and how that “x” was going to rot.
I tried to use that as incentive. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want that “x”. Hell. I didn’t want the “18”. I went as quickly as I could. There were lots of rooty sections and I walked these, but I tried to run everywhere I could. Even if the running wasn’t really running.
I saw a flashlight coming towards me. Major confusion. I knew I wasn’t on the section where I would be dealing with outgoing runners. I was almost certain that I wasn’t lost. As I got to her, I could see she was a she, I asked if she was lost or looking for someone. She said she was in the race (I couldn’t see her number under her jacket) and was at the beginning of her fourth loop. Man, I felt badly for her. I mentioned that she had gone left when she should have gone right and that, now, she was on her way to Site 174 instead of towards Amy’s Crossing. I tried to describe the flags she should have seen – “you know, like the kind you see at gas stations” – and I got her turned around. She was majorly bummed out – “how come the other people I passed didn’t say anything?” – and I did everything I could to get her back into a positive frame of mind. She was about a mile beyond where she was supposed to turn, so I told her she’d get the prize for going the furthest. Her fear, justifiably so, was that she still had two laps to go, and, roughly 12 hours to cover it.
She had been walking in front of me since I got her turned around. I went past her and, again, tried to reassure her that things would be ok. I picked up my pace a little in a last ditch effort to break 18 hours. I didn’t look at my watch while I was doing my good deed. I honestly had a mental discussion with myself while I was playing trail guide, and I decided that I’d get her as close to the turn off point as I could and then pick up my pace.
So, I get to the “gas station flags” and realize that the turn is not quite right there. I yell back into the woods, “Are you out there?” She wasn’t too, too far back, so I waited. Again, I’m playing mental games. “What’s this going to do to my sub-18?” She comes out of the woods and I point out the flags. We go a little further and I point out the signs showing where she should have made the right turn. The signs are there, but there aren’t any glow sticks, so they really don’t stick out. It’s easy to say that you’ve made this turn several times prior, but, in the dark while being slightly brain-dead, I can see how it can be missed. She was very thankful, though still a bit down, mentally. I told her she was going to have a great lap and to have fun.
I looked at my watch. 17:46. I had timed this finishing stretch, from the Nature Center to the Lodge, on the third lap figuring it’d be nice to know how fast I ran it during a normal, moderate time in case I needed to know it for the last lap. At the end of the third lap, it had taken me 12 minutes. Could I come close to that on the fifth lap? I resolved to do everything I possibly could to see a leading 17 on the big clock at the finish line.
I knew the footing was mostly good. And though there were some ups, they could be run. I knew there were a couple of road crossings. I knew the last little bit of trail was fast. I knew the finishing stretch was on pavement.
There were a handful of people heading out for another lap. There wasn’t anybody in front of me. I ran as hard as I could. I made it over the root that had grabbed my foot the last time I was here. I crossed a bridge. I crossed a road. I knew I was getting close. I didn’t look at my watch. I didn’t have another gear. I was going to do it or I wasn’t.
There’s another road to cross and the finishing stretch of trail. It seems to be just a little bit downhill so I reach for a bit more that I didn’t think I had. I’m on the roads and sidewalks of the camping area. There are a smattering of spectators cheering here and there. I know the finish line is just up ahead. I can’t see the clock yet. I’m running. I’m actually running at the ass-end of a 100 mile run.
And, there’s the clock. 17. 17 what? 17:58. Hot damn! I’m going to do it. I cross the line yelling “Number 119 and I’m done!” Renate is not expecting me for another 15 minutes at least, so she’s very surprised. Officially, it’s 17:58:30. I get Renate to take a picture of me with the clock. I get her to hurry since I still want it to say 17:xx:xx. I don’t much care about the other numbers as far as the picture goes. For what it’s worth, my last lap was 4:33:56.
 Second 100 mile run in the books (11:59 pm) |
The nice volunteer lady at the timing desk asked if I was planning on attending the awards breakfast in the morning. I asked if I should and she said yes. She wouldn’t divulge any more information, but I guess I placed. I didn’t think I was top five, which was the first batch of awards, but top three masters also got recognized, so I figured I was in there somewhere. At a minimum, I was going to get my second sub-24 hour belt buckle. As for now, it was time to get some clean, dry, warm clothes on.
Post run . . .
Renate and I go into the large tent that’s set up as the aid station/drop bag area/changing room. I grab a chair near the back wall and work on getting my shoes and socks off. I know the toes are going to be ugly and I’m not surprised when I actually see them. I think they might have grossed Renate out, though. (I’m going to get shoes a half size larger for my next 100 to see if that helps.)
I’m not hungry, but I remember how good hot chocolate tasted after the Arkansas Traveller, so I have Renate check with the volunteers to see if they have any. They do and it is. And then it’s time for a Guinness. Except the bottle opener seems to be missing. I think about opening the bottle with my teeth. Renate volunteers to check the car.
While she’s returning to the car to fetch the bottle opener, I have another cup of hot chocolate. There’s still no desire for real food.
Renate is successful in finding the opener and I enjoy a tasty beverage while watching all the activity in the tent. The volunteers are busy taking care of runners who come in for food and beverage. There are a few crews helping their runners get changed into warmer clothes before they head out on their fifth laps. These runners are the ones who are going to have to stay steady to finish in under 24 hours.
It doesn’t take long to finish my beer and, though another one sounds good, it’s a little after 1 AM and it’s been a long day for both of us. We walk over to the car, one of us a little more slowly than the other. According to the car thermometer, the temperature is 38° F. The short drive back to the hotel is uneventful, but the walk up to our second floor room is a bit of a struggle. A nice hot shower to scrape off the dirt and grime and then a collapse into bed.
The morning after . . .
I don’t sleep well, but I’m not surprised. Everything hurts. If I manage to fall asleep, I’ll move and something will hurt and I’ll wake up. When I’ve had enough of that, I crawl out of bed. I leave Renate sleeping peacefully and wander down to the breakfast area in the lobby of the hotel. I think about heading over to the Denny’s across the parking lot, but decide that a bowl of cereal along with some orange juice and coffee will be enough to hold me over until we return to the race site for breakfast and awards. I chat a little with a young lady who had done the 50 mile event.
Then it was back upstairs to get ready to head back downstairs to drive back over to the park. The stairs were a bit of a struggle, but walking on level ground was ok. One of the benefits to running on a course with no major elevation changes, was that there were no quad-busting downhills. So, even though my legs were sore and stiff, I don’t think they were as bad as after Arkansas. Really, it was my toes that were about the most beat up.
We made it back to the park a little before breakfast was scheduled to start, so we hung around outside the Lodge, cheering finishers and chatting with fellow competitors and crews. It was pretty comfortable standing around, the sun was up and it was in the low 50’s. I asked Peter, since he was somewhat local, where the alligators would have been had they been out. He said they like to hang out on the long bridges at the swamp end of the lake. Had they been there, things obviously would have been fairly entertaining.
|
Soon enough, the breakfast buffet opened and it was time to heap as much as possible onto a plate.
That was followed by the awards where I was lucky enough to pull down the 3rd place Masters award, a nice slab of wood. (Technically, I was 5th in the 40 to 49 age group, but the top two placed in the top five overall, so I was able to sneak in and grab the last Masters award. If any of that made sense.) I finished 9th overall out of 168 finishers. There was a talented young lady from Virginia who finished 3rd overall. Peter had moved up to 6th overall, getting the 5th place male award. (242 had started, so 69% finished, just a bit below the 71% average finishing rate for the Rocky Raccoon 100.) I also picked up my second sub-24 belt buckle. |
 |
And then I got to spend a great Super Bowl Sunday with my best friend. Renate and I left Huntsville State Park for the last time and drove over to the huge, white statue of Sam Houston where we dutifully posed for pictures and bought the obligatory refrigerator magnet. We returned to the hotel and started packing things up. The plan was to have a late lunch, early dinner – dunch if you will – before the game. And then settle back and watch the Colts play the Bears. Which, surprisingly, we were both able to stay awake for.
And, I guess that’s about it for the main story. There will be a section that follows with thoughts and ramblings that may or may not hold any value.
I did want to say thanks to all the volunteers who made the day a successful one. And thanks to Joe and Joyce, the RDs, for organizing a great event. Getting supplies out to the aid stations must be a bit of a logistical nightmare, but, except for not having Coke when I wanted it, everything seemed to go well. At least from my narrow point of view.
Finally, to the Love Of My Life, a “thank you” just seems so inadequate. Knowing I’ll get to see you at regular intervals, and being surprised when you show up other places as well, helps me keep going. Your enthusiasm and ability to anticipate my needs is a big reason why we are so successful at these events. I may do the running, but sometimes that seems like the easy part. Thanks for all that you do.
The usual over-analysis follows . . .
I know I dropped quite a bit of time on the fifth loop. I was a bit beat up and that was some of it. I think the major reason, though, was that it was dark. I don’t have a great comfort level running on trails in the dark. I was also a little mentally fried. It had been a long day, with lots of thoughts going through my mind. I’m not entirely sure why I was in a bit of a mental funk early in the run, but, as I wrote earlier, I think the lack of calories contributed to negatives once the sun went away.
And, I’m sure doing the Goofy races four weeks before had more of an impact than I thought they should have. Or, at least, hoped they would have.
Pacing continues to be sort of a conundrum with me. I probably still go out too quickly, but I’m of the philosophy of making hay while the sun shines. Picking up miles while I’m relatively fresh. And literally picking up miles while the sun shines. I know I’m going to run into fatigue and slow down. I know I’m going to run into darkness and slow down. The key is to hold off the fatigue as long as possible so as not to lose too much momentum. And to get more comfortable running in the dark so as not to lose too much then.
And, speaking of conundrums, nutrition is a bit of a hit or miss, it seems. I do well with my fluids and gels for the first sixty miles or so. Then it seems like I have no desire for any calories. I’m really going to have to fix this, because I know the lack of fuel contributes to a negative mind set as well as a negative physical performance. I don’t know for sure what caused my upset stomach at the start of the fourth lap, but I’m going to try taking some ginger in one form or another with me and see if that helps.
I believe I also mentioned that I’m going to size up my shoes for the next 100. I don’t seem to have the same problems with shorter distances, but, I guess, my feet may be swelling up a bit more for the 100s. My shoes are already a bit big, but, hey, bigger still is better. Right?
Looking at weather data as I’m writing shows the temperature went from 26° F at 6 AM to a high of 53° F at 3 PM before dropping back down to 38° F at midnight. For what it’s worth, I don’t think the cold was a major factor.
I had absolutely no problems staying on course. Ribbons, flags, signs, glow sticks were all plentiful.
For the number of people, 345 total for the 50 and the 100, and the fact that it was a multi-loop course, it seems like I spent an awful lot of time all by myself. I kind of thought it would have been a bit more crowded. Looking at the course map before the event, I was wondering how much congestion there would be on the various out and back sections. The second and third lap had some, but it was never bad. The out and back sections were, for the most part, wide jeep roads.
As I may have mentioned in the actual story, I don’t think there was anything on the 20 mile loop that “demanded” walking. Whether or not this was an issue, I don’t know. In Arkansas, there were spots early that required walking. So, there was the variety between running and walking pretty much right from the beginning. Here, in Texas, that wasn’t the case. As I’m writing this, I wonder if that might have been a contributing factor to my hip flexor problem early in the second lap. I ran the entire first lap and maybe that didn’t give my body enough of a chance to adapt to the trail running.
Or maybe the fact that I didn’t do any training runs on the trails leading up to Texas was the problem.