Oh, That "Easy" Rocky Raccoon....

Yes, there is sarcasm in that title. I participate in some ultra running groups and there was recently a thread on "easy" 100s, which apparently includes Rocky. I philosophically disagree with the concept of an easy 100, although I suppose for some that this is a reality. And, as I was trying to gracefully land my size 13 Vasques in between gnarly roots on the six mile loop past the Dam Road aid station in the middle of the night, "easy" was not my choice of adjectives.

Some adjectives that do apply to Rocky: excellent organization, outstanding volunteers, fabulous aid station food, beautiful surroundings. Just not easy.

The race takes place in Huntsville State Park near Huntsville, Texas. The trails are friendly (excluding roots), with few rocks and a generally soft surface. Five loops around the 20 mile course and you're in.

This was my second 100, with the first being at Javelina in November, 2008. I felt like I'd learned something from that experience, particularly with regard to the psychological demands of the distance. I don't suppose one ever feels well trained, but I had the hundred under my belt and the 50 mile Avalon Benefit Run on Catalina Island three weeks prior. The taper went OK, I figured out how to tape my feet to (hopefully) avoid blisters and I at least had some plan for pace and effort in the early laps.

Of course, something always has to go wrong. In my case, it seemed pretty minor, and really pretty stupid. I was walking around the start area, carrying my drop bag from the car to the start area. It was dark and I was wearing my headlamp, but didn't have it turned on. I guess I'm either not very smart, or was just saving the batteries. In any event, I walked right into the metal gate closing off an area from parking. Smacked my left leg, just above the knee. It didn't feel very good, but seemed pretty minor compared to what was to come. Turned out to be a bit of a problem later.....

The start went well, and I intentionally walked the first 10 minutes before even starting a slow paced run. Still dark but a pleasant easy pace and listening to the surrounding conversations made for a nice start. My first fall came at the 30 minute mark (roots) but did little damage. In fact, the first loop went well, in spite of a second fall. (My accounting mind started to extrapolate falls per lap times number of laps equaling a long race). The first loop ended without further incident, I felt good and I was back out for the second at 4:15 elapsed time.

It was lap two when the trouble started. A nagging tightness had appeared in my left quadricep. I've never had trouble there, and the only thing I could think of was the unfortunate altercation with the parking gate. The pain first appeared about mile 25 and by mile 30 I could barely flex my left leg. The Dam Road station was about 32 miles into the race, and from that point to the end of lap two (40 miles) I basically walked it in. I had pretty well resolved to quit out of fear of damaging the leg. Further, how much sense did it make to continue with an injury for 75 miles after the onset of symptoms?

At this point, I was very disgusted and mad at myself. Energy levels were fine, I was on top of hydration and calories and I felt good. However, I was about to drop. I'd burned three workdays (for a CPA, Saturdays and Sundays in February are workdays) and was dropping because I'd walked into a parking gate. Jeez. On the trek in from Dam Road I'd planned my exit, and was going to call my wife and have her arrange the earliest possible flight from Houston. I'm sure Huntsville is a fine place, but I had no desire to hang around there on a Saturday night under the circumstances.

Upon arriving at the starting line, I found the medical tent and told the workers that unless they had a magic bullet, I was out. The nice lady there looked at my leg, which had a large knot in the muscle. I told her about the parking gate and she surmised it was a bad bruise, and the blood rushing to it caused the swelling and knot. She suggested icing for a while and evaluating it. After 15 minutes of icing and application of a large compression bandage, it actually felt pretty good. We agreed I should let pain be my guide (perhaps dangerous for an ultra runner) and head back out. Elapsed time was now 8:50, or another 4:15 lap with 20 minutes in the medical tent.

The third loop was uneventful. The leg continued to nag, but never reached a debilitating level. I mixed in more and more walking and picked up my lights at the Dam Road station as darkness drew near and the air began to cool a bit. The lap was punctuated by my third and final fall, this one a real dirt eating roll on the trail. I picked myself up feeling like both hands were caked in dirt along with getting a true taste of the trail. Size 13s, a clumsy runner and a root-filled trail makes for a dangerous combination. Elapsed time was 13:40, or a lap of about 4:50.

By the fourth loop it became apparent that power walking was going to be my primary mode of movement. Fatigue was setting in, and I'm not a particularly good trail runner (see above). The leg was nagging more and more. I made the mistake of looking at it, and found that the swelling had moved to my knee. Flexibility was not particularly good, but I was still moving. Other runners would ask how it felt. My standard reply was that "the good news is everything else hurts so it's really no big deal." However, I was concerned about doing something stupid and causing long term damage. I resolved to stop in the medical tent again for a last look before the fifth loop. Plus, in spite of my taping, I'd developed a blister on my right foot.

The medical tent stop fixed the blister and provided a determination that I could probably finish the last 20. It would have been very difficult to drop at 80 miles with enough energy to finish, but I was resolved to do so if that was the decision. Another 20 minute stop at the medical tent to go with a 5:50 lap and I was out again with an elapsed time of 19:50.

What can you say about the last 20 of a 100? It's the middle of the night, I'm kind of hobbling and still tripping over those damn roots. I have no idea how many F-bombs I dropped as I stumbled again and again. (A variation on the old question....if you unleash expletives in a forest, but there's no one there to hear them, have you really made a sound?) A final fitting annoyance: my shoe came untied at the 96 mile mark. Limited manual dexterity, limited ability to bend over and flex, and my damn shoestring comes untied. Couple more F-bombs and I was headed for the finish. Finish time was 25:44, including 40 minutes in the medical tent.

Rocky was only my second 100, and I was definitely better prepared for it than my first. The time was OK, although I'd harbored secret hopes for a 24 hour finish. I had no emotional lows that pushed me to the verge of quitting. In fact, I desperately wanted to finish even with a potential injury. I did enter the "I'm never gonna do another of these goddam things again" phase in the late hours. Everything hurt (hips, feet, quads, butt) and even my arms and shoulders were tired. Finishing was satisfying, but I'd sworn off hundreds for good this time.

It's now 36 hours after the race finish. I can bend my left leg again, which is good, and I'm reasonably mobile. I'm wavering on my "never again" vow. After all, the next 100 on my calendar is not until August (Headlands or Lean Horse), so I've got plenty of time to make a well thought out decision. And if I can avoid parking gates, maybe there's a 24-hour finish in my future.

If I can just find an easy one.