Shan Rooney

0430 was when the alarm sounded. Oh boy – here we go! The day had finally arrived that I had been preparing for. It was the day that my long runs and long races had been leading up to. How did RR100 creep up so fast? Unsure of whether or not I would run this race, I put together a training plan, which started in August 2003. The training plan included long runs in October and November to prepare me for the Sunmart 50 mile in December. More maintenance runs after Sunmart prepared me for the Bandera 100k in January. If healthy coming out of Bandera, I decided there was no reason not to run Rocky Raccoon 100 miler. My thought process was that I may never be this trained again…why waste it?

I joined all the other runners at the Lodge for check-in. I was relatively calm leading up to the start, which was highly unusual. Minutes before take off, all of us made our way to the starting tent. Dressed in running pants over my half-tights, a long sleeve shirt under my REI-ONE, a large stocking cap, some big-mama mittens, I secured my hand-held water bottle around my left glove, turned my flashlight on, and we were off into the dark wooded trails of the park.

The first several miles were relatively uneventful. I met up with various runners that I had never previously met. Thorbjorn was a name I heard many times, but never met him until I was running along side him in the first 4 miles of the race. I also found my buddy Slammin’ Sammy V along the way. I stayed with Sammy for quite a while during the first loop. I would walk when he walked, then run when he ran. I quickly realized that when Sammy broke into a run, the running pace was too fast for me. I decided to maintain my granny trot and walk when the ground resembled an uphill. Sammy kept trying to “sell” me on the out and back to Mike Riggs’ Farside station, telling me how much he “really enjoyed” that portion of the race.

I developed some sort of hot spot on the back of my right heel around mile 13. Quick figuring told me that mile 13 was a very bad time to develop a blister. I pulled out my mini med kit and pasted a patch of moleskin onto my heel, which turned out to be a temporary fix. I finished my first loop and was so excited when Doug greeted me at the tent with a big smile and wave. I needed to address the right heel with more moleskin and two long strips of duct tape. I got some food and drink, Doug refilled my water bottle, and I was off. I made sure I grabbed my headphones to take with me for the next loop or two. The park was very pretty, but music was necessary to get me through the next 40 miles alone. It worked like a charm! I was so happy to have my music on, and I sang out loud along the trail with the lyrics I was listening to. I never cared who was running behind me or who might have heard me – I was on some sort of high when I got that music going.

Loop #2 went just fine. I was alone for a lot of it, which was okay. There was a section where I ran with Rick G. and a few other runners I didn’t know. We ran for a few miles together, then split up. I felt content, even though I could feel another hot spot creeping up on my left heel. Same spot as on the right heel. The wonderful Hardrocks that I purchased were causing me trouble?!?!? They felt good everywhere but the backs of my heels. At least I wasn’t developing blisters on my toes…thanks to my Injinji toe socks!!!! I came through the Lodge transition after the second loop waving and smiling at my friends. I was feeling good and was in very good spirits. Spaghetti, pretzels, PB & J, and more drink got me ready for the next loop. Doug got me set up with duct tape and nourishment and sent me on my way.

Loop #3 started off just fine. I knew that at some point during this loop daylight would end and I would welcome the dark sky. I had a pace chart with me to keep me guided as to what sort of time I was maintaining. I passed through the aid stations fine, always eager to reach the Farside station. The stretch leading out to the Farside kept getting longer and longer. I was convinced that Jim Balthazar and Mike Riggs packed up the entire station and moved it a mile further away each time I passed through. I thought back to what Sammy was chanting earlier, “I love this stretch….this section is really one of my favorites….”. He knew that the distance to and from that aid station grew with each passing loop, he just wanted me to discover the pain for myself. Seeing Jim and Mike every loop was great – familiar faces and hugs for me! What a boost. I told them both “the best thing about getting to this aid station right now means I only have to see you two more times.” Joking insults were okay with them, and they cheered me as I returned to the trail. I walked and ran the 10 remaining miles of loop #3. When I reached Dam Road Station the second time, it was 5:20 p.m. and I knew the sun would be dropping. I changed out my cap for a stocking cap, ditched the water bottle for my Camelback, put on my REI-ONE, and took my flashlight. I took off with Dave Berdis and we walked out of aid station #4. Dave and I split before the next aid station and I entertained myself in the darkness. I focused on Diana pacing me on the remaining loops and how much better I would feel with her there.

I finished loop #3 and met up with Doug, Diana, Robert, Joe, and Joyce at the Lodge station. Doug got me all fixed up with a dry shirt, and Robert, Joe, and Joyce were encouraging me telling me that I was doing great. Doug disappeared for a second, then returned to the tent holding a Texas Trilogy award. He said, “Look what you’re going to get when you finish!” I really liked the looks of the Trilogy award…I pictured it on the wall behind the front door at my apartment. After a lot of bundling up, refilling the Camelback, changing clothes, and various “getting situated” things, Diana and I were off on the trail. I told her that I didn’t know how much I’d be able to run, if any. I set the walking pace, which wound up being a pretty brisk pace. I was very comfortable walking, but the attempt of breaking into a running stride was causing something in my left knee to flare up. Okay, walking it is! We marched on and on and told stories and laughed. Having Diana with me really made me smile. We made it through Farside at mile 70 and I knew that I would need to change my shoes at the next stop. My heel blisters were starting to bother me and I realized that no amount of moleskin would calm the pain. I tried to block it out remembering what Doug told me, “Your pain level will climb until it reaches a plateau, then it will just remain constant and not get worse.” I asked myself, “Is this the plateau…if so, I think I can actually handle it.” I reached the aid station at mile 73 and changed shoes. Wow! What a nice change for my feet. Diana and I each had things to do at our drop bags, grabbed some food, and walked down the trail toward the next aid station. We passed through aid station #5 maintaining the same fast walking pace we started with. Finally we came to the finish for our last transition before the “Victory Lap”, which I have heard referred to as the “20 mile death march”.

As soon as Diana and I started out on the trail for loop #5, I said to her, “This loop is going to be a lot slower than the one we just finished.” I felt it in my legs – I had covered 80 miles on foot and it hurt! We walked at a slowed pace, which was fine with both of us. We chatted as we had been the previous loop, but I felt myself fading. I asked Diana if she would take the lead because I couldn’t do it any longer. She agreed and talked to me the entire time, giving me so much encouragement. She turned around to look at me each time I kicked a root or stump, and each time I quickly assured her that I was okay. I tried to take an electrolyte pill with some water at mile 87, but welcomed it back up as I gagged. My belly was playing games with me and I was falling asleep while in motion. The walk out to Riggs’ station was Hell. I thought we’d never get there. I cannot recall a single thing Diana said to me for those 3 miles because I was in some sort of runner’s coma. We arrived at the Farside station and I think my appearance said it all. Mark Lindsey was at the station with Jim Balthazar. Mike was sleeping in a tent nearby. I wasn’t speaking much and my eyes were closing. I looked at Mark and Jim and, with complete desperation, asked them what I should do to get past that phase? I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t stay awake. Mark and Jim were positively wonderful. They really took charge and Mark’s experience got me back on the right track. He told me when there is a problem, one needs to come up with a solution to that particular problem. He saw that I was sleepy, so I needed to sleep…simply put. I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do or not, and didn’t have another solution. Jim and Mark propped me up in a chair away from the fire, wrapped me up with two sleeping bags and told me they would wake me in 20 minutes. I got the “okay” nod from Diana and she took a seat next to the fire. I never considered dropping, I just wondered if napping would be okay? I never did fall asleep completely, but the deep relaxation state I hit was enough to refresh me. Twenty minutes after I sat down in the chair my friends were ready for me to get ready to leave the aid station so I could finish. I consumed a Red Bull and was on my way. I felt like myself again; smiling, talking, and determined to finish the last 10 miles.

Aid station #4 had some coffee for us, along with some hot soup. Diana and I fed ourselves and I was very grateful that my nausea had subsided. We headed on to aid station #5, which was 3 miles from the finish. We trudged along and brought in the morning. The sunrise was peaceful. We walked along the calm water in the park and could hear birds chirping. The silence was incredibly soothing. The daylight gave us a newfound energy. The unfortunate part about the sun coming up is that the pit-stops can’t be so loose. Daylight meant that Diana and I should move off the trail a foot or two, as runners would soon approach us from behind and need to pass us as we were stopped. Nice thought, but daylight didn’t change a darn thing for us “Green Pee’s”. We laughed uncontrollably as the other runners literally busted us with our pants down.

We got to aid station #5 and I never stopped. Diana asked me if I wanted anything to drink or eat, but I declined and just kept moving up the trail. I waved my arms in the air and said, “I just want to keep going.” She got some drink, then caught me on the trail. I told Diana that I smelled the barn. She told me she felt she had been cheated out of witnessing the infamous “cry break”. Just as she got the words out, I turned to her with tears streaming down my face. I asked, “You were wondering where the tears were?” We hugged and I told her that I couldn’t believe that I was less than 3 miles from finishing my first 100-mile race. We kept on and pushed toward the finish. The last few stretches and turns lead us to a section where there were many orange flags stuck in the ground leading us down a path toward the finish. I knew we were very close. I felt myself get choked up again. We turned a corner to the left and I saw Dave Berdis standing at his car. He looked as though he was locked out of the car and trying to break into it. Hallucination or reality? We moved on further and I saw Henry walking toward us and I waved. When he realized who we were, he began cheering and waving and I just cried. We started running toward the finish chute and the tent. My smile was from one ear to the other and I was sobbing. I couldn’t fight it. I crossed the line and wrapped my arms around Doug and cried tears of overwhelming joy. Finished in 26:12. I saw Rebecca Watkins, Henry, Joe, Joyce, Mark Lindsey, Robert, and several others smiling for me.

“Wow” was really all I could say after the race. In fact, that is all I can continue to say about my first 100-mile race. Rocky Raccoon 100 was definitely the hardest physical challenge that I have ever faced. Will I do another 100? Undoubtedly! Why? The mental ups and downs, in combination with the physical exhaustion I went through in order to finish, made up a “high”. In the past, I could never fully understand the “100”, or why runners would attempt the distance more than once. Now I get it.

Shan