Rocky Raccoon 50K Race Report - Pt. 1

Pre-Race

The entire week leading up to the race I had pre-race jitters.  I cannot remember the last time I was the slightest bit nervous for a race.  Worried the alarm wouldn’t go off sure, but not about the race itself.  This race was different.  I had not run an ultra in 10 years.  It’s not like riding a bike, and you can’t fake 31 miles.

With a 6am start time, I wasn’t sure which was better, getting up at 3:30 and driving the hour to Huntsville or staying the night in Huntsville and get an extra hour of sleep.  I opted for the extra hour of sleep and stayed in Huntsville.  I arrived at the hotel and started laying everything out for the next day.  Organizing race clothes, post-race clothes, stuff for the shower after the race, etc.  Basically anything to keep my mind off the race jitters.  Bed time came early, and the alarm went off even earlier.  

Race morning routine is down by now.  I started rehydrating and eating my usual race morning leftover homemade pizza.  After the first slice my stomach wasn’t into it anymore.  I tried to force down the second slice, but halfway through my stomach let me know if I tried anymore it would revolt.  That was odd; normally I can eat just about anything in the morning without issues on race day.  Unfortunately it was a sign of things to come.

I arrive at Huntsville State Park around 5:15, parked, found the packet pickup and race chip pickup.  After I returned my “goodie” bag (which consisted of a race shirt and men’s deodorant) to my car I went off toward the start line to see if I knew anyone.  Of course I knew no one.  My friends are crazy but they’re not get up at 4am to run 31 miles through the woods crazy.  I’m the only one with that special kind of crazy built in. 

The people who run trail ultras are completely different from road racers.  In a very good way, maybe it’s just the smaller size of the race but I think trail runners are simply a different breed of people.  There are no strangers when you arrive at a trail race.  Everyone talks with you and wants to know about you, your races, your training; just about everything is fair game.  At a road race everyone is about them and their group.  It’s rare to make a new friend at a road race.  In an ultra, everyone is your long lost friend that you just haven’t met yet.  Reminds me I need to get out of bed early and start running with Houston Trail Runners EXtreme.

Loop 1

The trail to Aid Station 1

The race director (Paul) tells us to line up, gives us some last minute race information, and we’re off.  (Note: Paul tells us the distances to each aid station, so all my distance references are based on that, the course map and my feel for where I am in between. I’m not sure the accuracy of any of those.)  We do a little loop around the campground and then we plunge in to the woods.  I start mid pack, and settle in with a group of 3 or 4 other runners.  The pace feels natural, but dang it’s hot.  I opted to not wear my Garmin since it’s an older model and its ability to correctly determine the current pace in trees (or buildings) is horrible.  I have no idea how fast I’m going, but it feels pretty easy.  BAM! Wipeout!  Everyone around checks to see if I’m ok.  I pick myself up and do a quick assessment. Everything seems fine and I’m glad I didn’t put my camera in my handheld as it would have been crushed.  It was a pretty hard fall and nothing but my pride is hurt.  I catch back up to the pack of runners when I realize there aren’t that many people ahead of our little group.  BAM! Wipeout 2.  This time I land on the opposite side of my body.  We cannot be more than a couple miles in and I’ve already wiped out twice.  In twelve years of running I can only remember two falls, and I’ve already wiped out twice.  It’s going to be a long day.  Pick myself back off the ground and again I got lucky, not much damage.  Back to rejoin the group.  As we head into aid station 1 (~4 miles in) I realize I’m actually pretty tired already, not feeling too good, and for some reason even the pb&j is making me nauseous.  I have a pretty slow turnaround at the first aid station.

The trail to Aid Station 2

The rest of our rag tag group of runners had much better aid station discipline.  They were in and out and back on the trail in no time.  I was back to playing catch up to the group.  Everyone is still chatting a joking.  Hey look a random foot bridge (Amy’s Crossing?).  Only one person takes the foot bridge the rest of us run along the path straight into a huge pool of ankle deep water.  Unfortunately the lone woman, and leader of our pack, comes to a near complete stop and it’s all I can do not to plow her down. (Note:  Later I found out this was Stephanie and she went on to win the female division.  Awesome job Stephanie!).  The odd thing is only my right foot got soaked, my left stayed completely dry.  So now I’m sloshing around with one wet shoe.  Ugh.  After another mile or so I start realizing I’m feeling really bad now.  I decide to not try and hang with the group anymore.  That was a pretty hard decision at the time.  On these trail runs you usually end up running a bit by yourself.  I really wanted the solitude to be later rather than sooner.  About mile 6 I’m really feeling bad and already contemplating dropping out. In a 2x15.5 mile loop course dropping out can’t happen until you make it around the course at least once. BAM! Wipeout 3!  This one was a doozie.  Luckily my water bottle took the brunt of the fall.  My shirt now looks like I entered the Tough Mudder not a trail race.  Dang I’m thirsty.  Yummy, a daily dose of minerals to go with my water.  I pull into aid station 2 and I’m realizing my stomach is about as bad as it’s ever been and my legs are tired and a bit sore already.  WTF is going on here?  How can I be this beat up seven and a half miles into a run, and at pretty modest pace (for the current distance covered).  My turn around time here isn’t much better than the first aid station and the pb&j only makes things worse.

The trail to Aid Station 3

I’m about half mile out of aid station 2 when I realized I should have paid more attention to what the volunteers asked to fill my water bottle with.  Heed sports drink may be the nastiest tasting liquid you can put in your mouth without it killing you.  There simply are no words to describe how bad this stuff tastes.  Hey only 5 miles of drinking this liquid crap.  After the second sharp turn I’m pretty sure I’m going to drop out after the first loop.  Oh no something is coming up!  Yep, first time to ever get sick during a race. I mean a week before I ate Goode Company BBQ and had a funnel cake an hour before I did a 10 mile run with only a mild side stitch. At least it wasn’t much.  Now I’m certain I’ll drop out.  If I do I’ll probably be ok to do the Firefly 5K with Liz later that night.  So it’s not all bad.  So I’m in cruise control now.  The plan is to run as good as I can and get a decent 25K time and drop out.  Then a guy (Victor) catches me from behind.  We get to chatting and I tell him about how crappy I feel.  Then the trail wisdom comes through and he tells me “When we sign up for these things you know going in at some point it’s going to hurt.  Might as well embrace it.”.  True dat, trail hommie!  He heads off and we part ways.  I run maybe a mile by myself when I see someone walking the uphill.  I’m determined to catch him.  When I catch him, I’m winded so we start to chat.  He’s running an easy pace to talk at, so we hang together for a bit.  Rolf is originally from Switzerland but now lives in Galveston.  We talk about running in the cold and wouldn’t you know it we pass a couple people.  Then I realized, after running a couple miles with him I’m feeling pretty good and my stomach issues seem to have gone away.  We pull into the Houston Trail Runners Extreme sponsored aid station (#3).  I’m a new member to HTRex, but I’ve never made it out to a group run yet.  I’m hoping all my Facebook stalking pays off and I recognize a few people.  Doesn’t happen.  The volunteer who took my water bottle noted “oh this is nasty”.  I’m pretty sure she wasn’t talking about the remainder of the Heed.  Rolf and I head back out.

The trail to the end of loop 1

Oops, I forgot to tell the volunteer to empty my water bottle.  Now I have water with a slight tinge of sewage, I mean Heed.  Well it’s only 2.8 miles to the end of the first loop.  Hey, there’s another person up ahead.  I bet I can catch her.  I pull away from Rolf and start the chase.  I eventually catch her, then she starts walking so no real chatting takes place.  The slightly slower pace with Rolf really is paying off.  I realize at this point my stomach issues have cleared up completely.  My legs are actually quite tired and sore, and I can feel the pre-muscle cramp spasms already.  It’s going to be a long way into the turnaround.  From the Interpretive Center to the turnaround the “trail” is more of a neglected paved walking path.  The half asphalt/rock and half trail messes with my footing.  Hey there’s the race photographer, time to pretend I’m not totally cooked.

Judging from the picture I only pretended in my mind.

I roll into the turnaround and as a cruel joke you have to run under the finishers banner to hit the timing mat (2:37:29).  I go to the aid station to refuel.  There seems to be quite a few people standing around.  I can’t tell if they are 10Kers, 25Kers, or 50Kers.  Most seem really fresh and not tired at all. I waste about 2 minutes in the aid station and I have to make a decision.  My legs are cooked, I’m exhausted, and it’s getting really hot out, I really want to quit.  I’ve never DNF’ed, but I’m pretty sure the smart play is to drop out and live to race another day.  Yeah, I’m going to drop.  Then the aid volunteer says “Do you need anything?”  I tell her, that I’m pretty sure I’m going to drop out.  To which she replies “Oh, you really shouldn’t drop out, you’re in tenth place”.  What?  How can that be?  I start thinking back to who I’ve seen on the way in from the Interpretive Center and I realize she’s probably not lying to me.  (Note:  turns out I was actually in 18^th place at this point according to the race results).  F it, this thing won't race itself, back out on the course I go.  

You can read Part 2 here