February 2 – 3, 2007
Race Report by Rick Mayo
The Rocky Raccoon 100-mile is set in the piney woods of eastern Texas’ Huntsville State Park. The 20-mile loop primarily circumnavigates Lake Raven on single-track, with several out-and-back sections on jeep roads. Ultrarunning gives it a rating of 1.5 in difficulty, primarily because of mild terrain and well-marked trails. But they fail to mention certain weather anomalies that occur during the night loops. The lake acts as a basin where cold, damp air settles in and makes it feel much colder than it really is. It’s a soaking cold. Ultrarunning also fails to mention roots—bloody roots. The course this year had standing water in quite a few places, which later turned to ankle-deep muck after being churned by 354 runners.
My first goal was to redeem a DNF from last year. I dropped out last year at mile 77 because of a combination of inexperience, dehydration, and inability to maintain body temperature. This year, the air temperatures were even colder: 27°F at the 6 a.m. start, and a low of 31°F the following night. Again, the humidity made it feel much colder than this.
My second goal was to finish sub-24. To help me achieve these goals, I brought along a friend and experienced ultrarunner, Gabe Bevan, to pace me. This was his first time pacing someone. I paced him in his first 100-mile attempt—the Heartland 100 in October 2006, which he finished in 22:11. We’ve run hundreds of miles of training together, so I knew we worked well together.
The morning of the race, I found Bad Ben Holmes and wished him well. In 2005, I ran the inaugural Psycho WyCo 50K, which he directed. This race—and meeting Ben—was my first real introduction to trail ultrarunning. At this Rocky Raccoon, Ben had his sights set on his fifth finish on this course and getting his 500-mile award. AMAZING!
First Loop: My first-loop plan was to run for 30 minutes and walk for 3 minutes, no matter what the terrain. (This course is advertised as flat, but there are moderate hills which become especially difficult at night because of the roots.) I believe this strategy helped me conserve energy for later in the race. Throughout the loop, I focused mainly on eating and drinking. I finished the first loop in 3:30, eight minutes faster than last year. At the start/finish area, I traded out a relatively new pair of Vasque Blurs for my trusty Montrail Hardrocks. I really like the Vasque shoes, but I just didn’t have enough mileage on them and developed some hotspots in the first 20 miles.
Second Loop: I started getting into trouble halfway through this loop, at about mile 30. Stomach problems forced me to walk a little more than I wanted. But I knew if I just slowed down, I would be able to recover. I continued drinking, but felt like I was going to throw up any time I tried to eat something. At this point, I was still drinking Heed that was probably mixed a little too strong. At the Dam Road aid station (around mile 32) a 100-mile veteran volunteer suggested that I was getting too much sodium and should switch to plain water in place of the Heed. My nausea and swollen hands were key symptoms. I continued to walk through to the end of the second loop, which ended up totaling about 3.5 hours of trudging and trying to throw up. When I arrived at the start/finish area, I was met by my crew: my wife, Kristi; Gabe; his wife, Tiffany; and my parents, who drove up from Houston. Tiffany, who is a nurse, gave me some ginger chews, which really helped settle the nausea later. I finished the second loop in 4:30.
Third Loop: I started out slow, mostly walking. I focused on drinking water but still couldn’t eat much. The next 10 miles, I had some of the most amazing diarrhea I have ever experienced. By mile 50, my stomach issue disappeared and I was able to get back on pace. The last 7.4 miles of that loop, I was able to run hard, as I wanted to get in as much mileage as possible before the sun went down. My time for the third loop was 5:01.
Fourth Loop: The fourth loop was the hardest loop. It really started to feel like work at this point. At the start of this loop, I swapped out my Nathan HPL vest for a single handheld bottle; performed a full change of clothes; popped some blisters; and picked up my pacer. The Nathan vest worked flawlessly, but I was beginning to feel the extra weight after 60 miles. This stop ate up 20 minutes, but was essential for preparing me to run through the toughest part of the race.
I don’t remember many details from this loop, except that it was getting extremely cold. Every time we’d stop at an aid station for a few moments, I immediately felt chilled to the bone. Gabe and I would run intervals, which started out as a pattern of run five minutes, walk two minutes. This quickly changed to run two, walk two… as far as I knew. Gabe later told me we were actually running for three minutes and walking for one! Toward the end of the fourth loop, I started losing motivation. I really started thinking that sub-24 was out of reach. My time for the fourth loop was 5:37.
Fifth Loop: I took 10 minutes at the start/finish area, most of which was spent in Port-A-Potty position. I struggled with low blood sugar. Everything was spinning after I sat down. This was rock bottom. Then Gabe told me, “You can do whatever the hell you want, but I’m going to be back here by 5:59. Are you coming with me?” This statement fired me up. We covered the 4.1 miles to the Highway aid station in 58 minutes. At this aid station (mile 84.1), I met up with Bad Ben. He looked strong, but he told me he was on a death march. This is also the point where I outran my pacer. While Gabe performed a battery change on his headlamp, I left the aid station running. A mile later, he caught up to me breathing laboriously and said, “What the hell, dude?” I thought it was pretty funny.
I continued running intervals, even though it was increasingly uncomfortable to run. Throughout most of the last two loops, I would take the lead on the running portions of the intervals; when we walked, Gabe would take the lead, since I was having trouble keeping up a fast walking cadence. I hit a couple low points during the final miles. We power hiked the last 2.9 miles to the finish. I ran the final quarter-mile to the finish and stared blankly down at the pavement until my wife told me to come inside the tent and sit down. My time for the last loop was 5:01, and my final finish time was 23:39. I think I was too hammered to feel any emotion at that point. I started this race to redeem a DNF, but I think finishing it humbled me even more.
Looking at the results, it’s easy to be impressed by the front runners’ finish times. But I was more impressed with people who were finishing while the award ceremony was taking place—29 hours into the race. I think it’s a privilege to participate in these events, because you run shoulder-to-shoulder with the most hard-core athletes out there. I agree with Bad Ben’s statement about a hundred-miler feeling like the process of dying—except you do these races voluntarily. It is so easy to drop out on this course, and many did. In my opinion, physical fitness will only get you so far. After your legs are trashed and your body is completely drained, iron-willed attitude is what gets you to the finish line.
