On February 7, I ran the Rocky 50, a 50 mile trail run in
Huntsville State Park. Huntsville State
Park is about 60 miles north of Houston.
The race is run on the same trails as the Rocky Raccoon 100, which was
held a week earlier.
One of my goals for 2015 is to get out of my comfort
zone. I’m primarily a road-runner, and I
mostly run marathons. I’ve done other
trail races, but I’m still somewhat of a novice. This race gave me some experience on trails,
while also stepping up the distance.
I didn’t really train for this race. What I mean by that is
I didn’t do any training that was specific to this terrain or distance. Since the beginning of winter, I’ve been
training on a treadmill during the week and running road marathons on most of
the weekends. I haven’t been on trails
since June. My hope was that I could
drop this race into my schedule and basically fake my way through it. I’ve done that before on races up to 50
miles, and it’s worked out surprisingly well.
The trails in Huntsville State Park don’t have steep climbs,
but they have lots of roots. My biggest
concern was tripping. I have chronically
tight hamstrings. Tripping and stumbling off balance could cause an injury,
even if I didn’t fall.
I flew to Houston on Friday, arriving just after noon. I stayed at a hotel in Conroe, which is about
halfway between the airport and Huntsville State Park. After stopping in Conroe to check into my
room, I continued to the park to pick up my race packet and attend the pre-race
briefing. While I was waiting for the briefing,
I had a chance to look around a bit. I
had never seen the trails before, so I wanted to see what they looked like. The sections of trail near the start/finish
looked pretty runnable, but I knew other sections would have more roots.
The briefing was held outside the park lodge, which is next
to Lake Raven. Parts of the course are
alongside this lake. Other parts go
through the surrounding forest.
I returned to Conroe for an early dinner at and went to bed
as early as I could. The race started at
6:00, but it takes about 30 minutes to get to the start from Conroe. The first time I did a 50 mile trail run, I
arrived late and missed the start by two minutes. Not wanting to make that mistake again, I
allowed extra time. I woke up at 3:30,
so I could take an hour to get ready and still be on the road by 4:30.
The course is a 16.67 mile loop that we ran three
times. The loops combined sections of
three different trails through the park.
A few sections were out-and-back.
Because of the early start, the first hour of the race was in the
dark. I didn’t want to wear a head lamp,
so I carried a hand-held flashlight. If
this was a road race, I would have gone without a light. It’s not.
You need to be able to see those roots.
When I arrived at the start, it was 41 degrees, but it was
going to warm into the upper 60s. I was
originally planning to wear a short-sleeve T-shirt and shorts, but I made a
last minute decision to also wear a wind shirt for the first loop. I packed a pair of gloves, but I could only
find one glove after arriving at the start. The other fell out of my gear bag, and I
didn’t find it until after the race.
My hands get cold easily.
I didn’t like the idea of running with only one glove. At least I had a glove for the hand that held
my flashlight. The metal casing was ice
cold. I saw my friend Angie at the
start, and she suggested pulling my sleeve over my bare hand. That worked well.
The aid stations are three to four miles apart. I wore a belt that holds one bottle. I started the race with a full bottle. I didn’t need that much liquid to get from
one aid station to the next, but my race packet included a packet of drink mix,
so I made use of it.
Knowing I wasn’t as prepared as I should be, I went in with
conservative goals. I didn’t know what
would be a realistic time goal, so I didn’t have one. Mostly, I wanted to run cautiously, avoid
tripping, and set a pace that felt fairly easy.
Since I didn’t have any specific goals (other than finishing
and avoiding injury), I also didn’t have a detailed plan. I know what you’re thinking. Someone hacked into David’s blog. Who is this imposter with no goals and no
plans? I was out of my element, so I
viewed this race as a learning experience.
I was most nervous about the early miles. A friend who did the Rocky Raccoon 100 a week
earlier commented that one of the rootiest sections came in the first three
miles. The first time I ran that, it
would still be dark. I started
cautiously. I didn’t care if I was
slow. I just wanted to get through those
early miles without tripping.
Other times I’ve done trail races at night, I’ve used a head
lamp. It has a bright beam, but I can’t
direct it. The flashlight worked
better. I held it at waist level and
kept the beam focused on the roots. That
worked great. Whenever I saw a group of
roots, I shortened my stride, picked up my feet more and danced around the
roots. I could do that only because I
still had fresh legs. In the first three
miles, I never made contact with a root.
Although I planned to start slowly, I was getting pulled out
at a fast pace by the runners in front of me.
All my attention was focused on watching for roots. To make sure I stayed on the trail, I followed
the runners ahead of me. At times, I
started falling behind, so I picked up my pace to keep from losing sight of the
other runners.
The trails were well marked.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a trail that’s been marked better. At every major turn, there were yellow signs
with arrows pointing the way to go.
Wrong turns were marked with signs or blocked off with yellow tape. In between the signs, there was pink flagging
with reflective tabs. These were located
every 0.05 miles. In daylight, it would
have been difficult to make a wrong turn.
In the dark, however, you still had to pay attention.
After a few miles, we reached the Nature Center aid
station. I was pleased to have made it
through the early miles without tripping.
I had enough fluid in my bottle to reach the next aid station, so I
didn’t stop. In general, if my bottle
was at least half full, I didn’t bother refilling it. When it was low, I’d refill it completely. Actually, the volunteers refiled it for
me. All of the aid stations had cheerful
volunteers who asked you what you needed when you arrived.
As I left the Nature Center aid station, there weren’t any
runners right in front of me. It was
still dark, so I had to start watching for trail markers. There was another runner right behind
me. For the next mile or two, we helped
each other spot the turns. After a
couple more miles, there was enough light to see the signs without a
flashlight. In daylight, there was
almost no chance of missing a turn.
Some sections of the trail had roots, but other sections had
good even footing. About five miles into
the race, we were on another rooty section, and I finally hit a root for the
first time. I didn’t fall or even lose
my balance. That time, I was able to
keep a smooth stride.
Before long I hit another root and stumbled slightly. I didn’t fall, but I could feel the impact
through my left leg and into my glutes.
I didn’t injure anything, but it was a wake-up call.
My first fall came after another half mile. My foot caught on a root, and I hit the dirt
before I knew what happened.
Fortunately, it was a soft landing.
The dirt was somewhat soft, and it was covered with a thin layer of pine
needles. I took most of the impact with
my right arm and shoulder. Nothing hurt,
so I bounced up quickly and started running again. I decided to slow my pace a little.
The next aid station was Dam Road. I ate a PJB while a volunteer filled my
bottle with HEED. I like PBJs, because
they have sugar and starch with a little bit of protein. They’re easy to eat, and I can eat them all
day long without any digestive problems.
They’re also something you can expect to find at almost any trail race. The aid station had other foods, but my
mantra became, “PBJs and HEED. It’s all
you need.”
The Dam Road aid station is the only one we visited twice
per lap. In between, we ran a loop that
brought us up onto a levee next to the lake.
It was colder there. I was almost
halfway through the first loop, and I actually felt colder than I did at the
start. I was starting to question
whether I would be able to discard my wind shirt after the first loop.
By now, there was enough light that I didn’t need the
flashlight anymore, so I put it in my fanny pack. Being able to see the roots in the light of
day probably made me too complacent. A
short time later, I had my second fall.
This time, I hit the ground with my hands. It’s a good thing they were both covered, or
I might have had some scrapes. As it
was, I was unhurt. I was slower getting
up, but resumed running. It wouldn’t be
my last fall. Each time, I was a bit
slower when I resumed running.
After going through the Dam Road aid station a second time,
I warmed up enough to remove my glove.
We retraced the section of trail where I fell earlier. Then we started a section that was more
runnable. It was slightly uphill, but
there weren’t any roots.
The last aid station before returning the start/finish area
was the Park Road aid station. Just
before the aid station, we crossed the main road into the park. My friends Mark and Stefanie were
volunteering at this aid station. The
first time through, I saw Stefanie.
As I started the final section of my first loop, I was
finally starting to feel warm in my wind shirt.
At first, I didn’t know if I would still be warm enough without it. By the end of the loop I was getting hot and
sweaty. As soon as I could see the
start/finish area, I took off my wind shirt.
There was a place in the start/finish area where you could
leave drop bags. Before starting my
second loop, I put my wind shirt and flashlight in my bag. As I started the second loop, I checked my
time. I ran the first third of the race
in 2:52. For the time being, I was on
pace to break nine hours, but I expected to slow down.
The beginning and end of each loop was an out-and-back
section. As I started my second lap, I
recognized some of the runners coming in. At first, I saw runners who had
always been near me on the first loop.
Then I saw my friend Ed. Then I
saw Angie.
I once again had to navigate a section with lots of
roots. So far, I was making it through
this section without falling or having any bad stumbles. Toward the end of this section, we ran
alongside the lake and there was a cold breeze.
This was the first time I ran this section with only a T-shirt, and I
briefly got cold.
The Nature Center aid station was the only one with
permanent bathrooms, so I took the opportunity to make a bathroom stop. A couple miles later, I reached another rooty
section, where I had my first fall on the previous loop. One of my feet caught a root, and I
stumbled. I felt the shock all the way
through my left leg and butt. I didn’t
injure myself, but it didn’t feel good.
A short time later, I had another stumble. Again, I felt it in my left leg. These two stumbles had a cumulative effect.
Soon, I heard another runner approaching from behind. I moved to one side of the trail to give him
room to pass. This section of the trail
is out-and-back, and I saw one of the leaders coming back. I also needed to leave room for him to
pass. I took my eyes off the roots. Boom!
Down I went. I was uninjured,
except for my pride. Each time I fell, I
took longer to get. Each time, my pace
after falling was a bit slower than my pace before falling.
I was keeping track of the number of times I tripped, the
number of times it made me stumble, and the number of times I fell. I eventually lost track of how many times I
tripped. By the end of the race, it was
probably around 50. I also lost track of
the number of stumbles. I’d guess it was
about 15. I remember each fall like it
was yesterday. Actually, it was
yesterday.
Midway through the loop, I once again reached the section
along the levee. The first time, it was
cold. Now it was hot. Most of the course was well-shaded, but this
part was exposed to the sun. It was late morning, and the sun was now high in
the sky.
When I got back to the Dam Road aid station, I was past the
halfway mark. That’s a psychological
lift, but I was also getting sore and tired.
I took the first loop too fast, and I was going to pay for it. Tripping on roots so frequently also took a
toll.
By the time I made it to the Park Road aid station, my quads
were getting sore. I had 21 miles to
go. I saw Mark at the aid station and
commented that the last 21 miles were going to be slow. He shrugged.
If there’s a place where I came unhinged, it was on the
rooty section near the lake. I was
feeling good about only falling once on my second loop. Then I caught a root and hit the ground. I was slow getting up and couldn’t get back
to the same pace. Then I fell
again. I landed on my back. As I sat up, I was looking backward. I wanted to know what I tripped on, but all I
could see was a scuff mark in the pine needles.
Did I really trip on pine needles?
No. Two feet farther up the
trail, I saw a knobby root that only stuck up about an inch above the ground. Even when I was looking for it, I could
barely see it.
I was even slower getting up and my pace after the fall was
slower than molasses. The time it took
me to get up was enough time for my sore legs to get stiff. For the rest of the loop I was really
slow. I realized my third loop was going
to be much slower than the first two.
When I reached the start/finish area, I looked for PBJs at
the aid station. Right next to them, I
saw a pan of cheese quesadillas. They
looked really good. I left the aid
station with a quesadilla and a full bottle of HEED. I couldn’t eat it as quickly as a PBJ, so I
took a brief walking break while I ate.
The start of the loop is slightly uphill, so it wasn’t a bad time to
walk.
My time for the first two loops was 6:10. I was slowing down, but it still seemed like
I should easily break 10 hours. All I
needed to do was run the last lap in 3:50.
That’s an average pace of almost 14 minutes per mile. I wasn’t running very fast, but surely I
could maintain that pace.
When I finished my quesadilla, I resumed running. It was still slightly uphill, and I started
getting hot. I was so hot, I felt
feverish. It was a relief to get back by
the lake again. The same breeze that
made me cold earlier now kept me from overheating.
If I could’ve done half running and half walking and still
broken 10 hours, I would have. I felt I
needed to run most of the loop to ensure I was staying on pace. Stepping over big roots got increasingly
difficult. On sections that were both
rooty and uphill, I had to walk. I tried
to limit my walking breaks to about 30 seconds at a time. I also tried to limit them to an average of
one per mile.
About five miles into my third loop, I noticed I was playing
leapfrog with another runner. He was
walking going uphill and running everywhere else. I was doing a slow steady run. When he ran, he would pass me. When he walked, I would pass him. At one point, I made a comment, “In the first
loop, I ran everything at the same pace.
In the second loop, I slowed down going uphill. In this loop, I’m back to running everything
at the same pace. I only have one gear
left, and it’s slow.”
When I reached Dam Road going outbound, I tried to estimate
what my time would be for the first half of the loop. It wasn’t easy, because there wasn’t a
halfway mark. When I returned to Dam
Road, I would be about a half mile past halfway. I could see it was going to be close. I wouldn’t have any margin for continuing to
slow down.
On a long gradual hill, I was forced to take a walking
break. The guy I was leapfrogging caught
up to me. He said, “We’re right on the
cusp of breaking 10 hours.” I said,
“I’ve been doing the math too.” He
replied, “I’m a math guy. I’m always
thinking of those things while I’m running.”
He thought we could break 10 hours if we maintained our current pace and
then made a push in the last few miles.
I didn’t tell him what I was thinking.
His current pace was too fast for me.
Also, I couldn’t see myself making a push on the same section where I
fell twice on my second loop.
He was beginning to pull away. Then I stumbled on a root. That slowed me down, and I kept falling
farther behind. Before long I could see
him up on the levee. By the time I got
there, he was almost done with that section.
Then I lost sight of him.
Before I reached the Dam Road aid station for the last time,
I could already see that I had fallen off the pace. As I left the aid station, my watch read 8:14
and change. There was a sign giving the aid station mileage for each loop. I
was at 42.21 miles, so I had 7.79 to go.
I had an hour and 45 minutes to run 7.79 miles. That sounded easy, but I knew it wouldn’t
be. I had to average roughly 13:30 per
mile the rest of the way. On the first
half of the loop, I averaged 14 minutes.
Leaving the aid station, I was on a section with good
footing. It was slightly uphill, but
there weren’t any roots. I worked hard
to pick up my pace, while I was able to get into a rhythm. It was working, but it didn’t last long
enough. I reached another rooty section, and it slowed me down again. I also had to slow to a walk to step over
some of the bigger roots.
I eventually reached another section with good footing. It was a long straight section with a gradual
upgrade, but no roots. Because the trail
was rising ahead of me, I could see for a long distance. I saw “math guy” in the distance. He was walking the hill. I worked as hard as I could to push my
pace. He seemed confident he could break
10 hours. If I could catch up to him, maybe I could too. Catching him going uphill was the easy
part. I would still need to stay with
him when the hill leveled off.
When I caught him, I asked if he was still on pace to break
10 hours. He said he stopped figuring it out.
His legs couldn’t do the hill. Then
he told me that I looked like I was on a fast enough pace. I pressed on.
I was getting into a good rhythm. Going uphill was tiring, but I was gradually
accelerating. Having a long section
without roots helped. I didn’t know how
fast I was going, but I was confident I had picked up the pace.
At the top of the hill, there was a sharp left turn. There were two port-o-potties located at that
corner. I knew it wasn’t far to the last
aid station. I needed to make a bathroom
stop. I was worried that I couldn’t
afford the time. I was also worried that
stopping, even briefly, would take me out of my rhythm and let my legs stiffen
up. I also knew that I needed to pee,
and I couldn’t hold it all the way to the finish. I had to stop somewhere, and this was the
best place to stop.
As I emerged from the port-o-potty, “math guy” caught up to
me. We were beginning a downhill
section. It was the only part of the
trail that had rocks instead of roots.
This wasn’t the best place to have to work back into my pace. So far, all five of my falls had soft
landings. If I tripped on a rock, I
would likely hit another rock. The good
news is that it’s easier to avoid the rocks.
Unlike roots, they don’t go all the way across the trail.
It wasn’t easy, but I managed to keep up with “math
guy.” He now thought we were both on
pace to break 10, but he wouldn’t know the remaining distance for sure until we
reached the aid station. We were almost
there.
Soon, I saw the park road.
I accelerated into the aid station.
As I crossed the road, I felt like I was dancing over the pavement. While a volunteer was filling my bottle,
Stefanie asked me how I felt. I said,
“Crappy, but I’m on a push to break 10 hours.”
I asked her how far it was to the finish. Someone answered, “4.4 miles.”
My watch read 8:59 and change. I had one hour to run 4.4 miles. 1 couldn’t do the math precisely, but I knew
13 minute miles would be fast enough. I
took off.
Leaving the aid station, I had about a mile and a half of
easily runnable trail. A good portion of
it was uphill, but there were few, if any, roots. I ran it as hard as I could. I felt like I was running 10 minute
miles. I wasn’t running that fast in the
first loop.
For the past few miles, I had been running hard enough to
produce endorphins. Endorphins are
natural painkillers. I was no longer
feeling the sore muscles. I was now
passing everyone I saw.
As I got closer to the lake, I had to run the same rooty
section where I had two falls on the previous loop. As I started seeing roots, I told myself that
I couldn’t slow down, but I also couldn’t afford to have another fall. As soon as I had that thought, I was on the
ground.
There’s another big difference between rocks and roots. When you trip on a rock, you still have
forward momentum. You stumble forward,
out of control. You might fall or you might
regain your balance. When you catch your
foot on a root, your foot immediately stops.
The rest of your body stops too.
Feeling my foot hit that root and feeing my body slam into the ground
were simultaneous. This landing felt
much harder than the others. I had a
superficial scrape on the side of my knee, but otherwise I was uninjured.
I wasted no time getting up.
It wasn’t easy to get going again, but I forced myself to do it. The impact of the fall aggravated all my sore
muscles. Now I felt them again. In fact, they all hurt twice as much.
I ran the best pace I could with my newly sore muscles. I managed to avoid any more falls. There are a few sections of boardwalk near
the lake. When I reached them, I knew I
was past the worst of the roots. I was
trying to remember if there was one more uphill section. The finish is downhill, so there had to
be. On cue, the trail turned away from
the lake and started climbing. I was
tired, but I was determined to keep up the pace. If I could hold the pace going uphill just a
little bit longer, I’d surely be able to hold it on the downhill.
I passed another runner, and he picked up his pace to stay
with me. I asked him if he knew how far
it was to the finish and told him I was hoping to break 10 hours. He said he thought it was about a mile. I looked at my watch. If he was right, it wouldn’t even be
close. I was way ahead of the pace. I still poured it on. When I made the last turn and saw the finish,
I broke into an all-out sprint.
I wasn’t sprinting for time.
I knew I was going to break 10 by a wide margin. I wasn’t sprinting to celebrating the
finish. I was sprinting to celebrate the
fact that I could sprint. Two hours earlier I couldn’t run a 13-minute
mile to save my life. Now I was sprinting.
I finished in 9:44:30.
I averaged 10 minute miles for the last 4.4, even with the fall. It took a few minutes to catch my
breath. The Rocky Raccoon 100 has belt
buckles, which is the tradition for 100 mile races. This race has a finisher medal.
After finishing, I finally had time to look around and see
all the other food at the finish line aid station. There was lots of good food, but I seek out
the foods I don’t always see at other races.
I started with pickle spears. I
didn’t take any electrolyte pills during the race, and pickles are loaded with
salt. I also had some pumpkin pie.
I saw something else in the finish area that you don’t see
every day. I’m sure there’s a story
behind this sign, but I didn’t want to know.
Before leaving, I got to know a few of the runners who I had
seen on the course at different times. I
also met a runner who used to live in Minnesota and was wearing a Run Minnesota
shirt.
It was a 30 minute drive back to Conroe. It took longer than usual to get cleaned
up. My legs were much more sore than
usual, even for an ultra. I didn’t go to
dinner until 7:30. I fell asleep within
30 minutes of getting back to the hotel.
I slept well that night.
In the morning, my legs were really stiff and sore. My right quad was much stiffer than my left
quad. That’s unusual. I think the soreness was asymmetrical,
because it wasn’t just from the running.
Some of the soreness was the result of tripping, stumbling and
falling. The last time I fell, I took
some of the impact with my right leg.
Was it smart to plop a 50 mile race into a race schedule
that includes marathons almost every weekend?
Probably not. Was it smart to do
a trail race without any training on trails?
Almost certainly not. My goal was
to get out of my comfort zone. At that I
definitely succeeded.
Freidrich Nietzsche said, “That which does not kill us makes
us stronger.” This race hurt, but it
didn’t kill me. It will make me
stronger. That was the point.
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