Trudging along in silent desperation. Dangerously cold to the core. Feet bruised. Toes screaming from being repeatedly hammered by the roots. The word “Exhaustion” does not adequately describe the feeling of being desperately tired to the point where I wanted to turn off the trail, head into the woods, turn off my flashlight, collapse to the ground and drift off into a never-ending sleep. Of course I wasn’t going to do it, but I’ll be honest in the fact that the thought was appealing to entertain. Not my every-day thought process to say the least.

I wanted to report on my Rocky Raccoon 100 mile, 2006 experience not only because I want to try desperately to capture the epic experience before it escapes me, but also to open myself up for examination and critique because this is the first time I've really questioned whether I should even call myself an ultra runner. But in the hopes that the latter is not true, maybe someone will have some insight that will help me not be so miserable after 70 miles. Or at least to know I’m not the only one that goes to dark places in my mind. I have finished a 100 miles before and have experi enced pushing through when all seemed hopeless. But I have always suffered tremendously after 70 miles. After revealing my inner-most thoughts, everyone’s conclusion will probably be that I’m just a whimp and should shut up and go home. But something being a stupid thing to do has never stopped me before. So here goes….

I had a great taper and was completely healthy and rested by race day. I was extremely nervous/excited before this race for some reason. Maybe because I wanted to redeem myself from last year’s fiasco with my knee that hurt from mile 20 to mile 77. I had resolved that issue with weight training, releasing trigger points in my muscles, and stretching. I have a big year planned with Ironman Arizona in April and Western States in June, I was ready to begin proving to myself that I would be ready.

After s tudying my splits from last year’s Rocky attempt and also splits from some sub-24 hour finishers, I had a fantasy set of splits set up for myself and hung them on my wall at work. Loop 1 – 3:45, Loop 2 – 4:15, Loop 3 – 4:30, Loop 4-5:30, Loop 5 – 6:00. I wasn’t going to attempt those times. But if my natural body rhythm put me near those times then I would know I was on a 24 hour pace. But my main goal was to just finish. No pressure.

My first loop ended in 3:50 (5 mi n slow, but 7 min faster than last year). My second loop ended in 4:10(5 min ahead. 30 min faster than last year). That is interesting… I’m exactly on pace with the fantasy times I hung up. At this point, I decided to risk my race by beginning to hope for the sub-24 hour finish. Loop 3 ended in 4:31(1 min slow, but 1 hr 10 min faster than last year). So after 60 miles of running and 12 1⁄2 hours, I was within one minute of my fantasy goal. During these first three loops I hardly looked at my watch but I think my sub-conscious mind was at work trying to help me make my goal. I sat down for the first time all day with my family at 60 miles. My feet were hurting and felt more bruised than normal. This was the first time I wore trail shoes instead of road shoes. These trail shoes were also a little too large so I wore a pair of Injinji socks and a pair of Wrightsocks over those. I planned to take the second pair off as my feet began to swell but never did. I ate well all day and took more sodium than I used to which kept my stomach feeling good. No nausiousness whatsoever. First time for that. Took off with my mp3 player and felt relatively good. At mile 64, gr abbed a piece of pizza at the highway and headed back out. At about mile 65, my legs lost the ability to run. I could walk just find but could not force myself to run much at all. Power walked from there to the Farside then back to Dam Road. I had a surreal moment where I just laid down in the dirt by the fire. On the other side of the fire, someone was heaving their guts out. I only laid down for about 2 minutes then jumped up and headed out again. Put on my cotton hoody and took off. The mistake was to put a “cotton” jacket over my damp clothes that I had w orn all day. As I walked from dam road around the back side of the lake is when I sank into the depths of despair. Cold to the very core. Feet hurt to walk at all. Sleepier than I had ever been during a race. Caffeine didn’t even help. My flashlights were too dim to see the roots well. By the time I had made it to the nature center, I was in the full-blown mindset that I was an idiot for doing this. I was ready to withdraw from the Ironman. Ready to cancel the Western States race. Basically ready to find a new hobby. How do you spell oragomii? I need to Google it. I kept trying to force myself to run but could not do it.

Made it back to the lodge at mile 80 in 7:00. It’s 2:00am. I have 10 hours to finish the last loop. I had time to walk the whole thing. But I was so tired and so hurt, I could not fathom walking another loop. I walked up to the timekeepers and turned in my bib. This was the time when a good pacer could have helped me b ecause if I had been thinking clearly, I could have gone into the medical tent, taken an hour nap, then walked the last loop. But I couldn’t think that far ahead. I was in a primal place that couldn’t fathom the high-level goals of self-actualization. An animal in survival mode naturally knows to retreat and recuperate when hurt so they can be prepared for any future dangers. Maybe I hurt more than others. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this. All these things went through my head. I know that noone else would run in four 100 milers and in ever one of them, feel like an idiot for doing this at some point.

I made the dangerous decision to drive 45 min home in my state. I was too ashamed to call my wife to come get me. I didn’t want to hang around and feel like a failure. All I could think about was a hot bath and my bed. Being in this state makes the smallest luxuries seem like all you’d ever need to be happy. I only have the deepest memory of ever being this tired and it was only during other 100 mile runs. I can never retain this memory. It only returns during the next hundred.

Spent the next day in a really bad place. Exhaustion I’m sure had a lot to do with it but regret was also there.

I’ve attempted four 100 milers. I’ve only finished one. Not a very good record. That is a worse survival rate than my toenails (only lost 50% of my toenails). If not an “ultra-runner” then we need a new name for people whose IQ is so low, that here it is, 2 days later, and I can already contemplate being able to try again. I’m just a slow learner I guess. Does everyone feel the extreme exhaustion that I felt, yet still go on to finish? Am I just not designed to run that far? I don’t know. I’ll just keep trying until I find out for sure.

Things I will do differently next time:
(1) If it is cold, change clothes completely when it gets dark. If you put layers over damp clothes, it just sucks the heat out of you.
(2) Fix the problem with the shoes. My feet hurt much more in the Leona Divides than my regular street shoes but it could have been the double socks.
(3) Go slower earlier in the race. I pushed too hard too early and didn’t have anything left later in the race. Take more walk breaks. This was probably the biggest factor.
(4) Do more long runs of 30-40 miles. Most of my runs were around 20 miles. Did Sunmart 50 mile and 50k at Bandera though.
(5) Maybe take some sit-down breaks before 60 miles. I never stopped or sat down until then.
(6) BRIGHTER FLASHLIGHT!!! The dim led’s made me strain too hard to see the trail.

I ate a lot of food during the race. Mac-N-cheeze, pizza, soup. Maybe the solid food takes too much energy to digest?

Anyway, I sound like a defeated whiner and will regret writing this but I’m trying to capture this experience and embrace it so I can learn from it and use it to give me strength and ideas when I face these feelings again.

Until next time…