Initial Rocky Raccoon 50-Miler Race Report
It certainly wasn't the fastest 50-miler on record; however, I covered three 16 2/3-mile loops in Huntsville (Texas) State Park yesterday, starting at 7 a.m. and finishing 13 hours, 46 minutes and 21 seconds later. A good friend of mine, Becky Spaulding from Houston, and I covered the first loop in 3 hours, 45 minutes, using a 2-minute run, 1-minute walk pattern.
As we started the second loop, and with temperatures unseasonably rising for a February Saturday afternoon, we got to the first Aid Station together, but I needed to abandon the pattern and begin walking the loop as fast as I could. I finished the next loop in 4 hours, 25 minutes (only about 10 minutes behind a hopeful goal).
With Waverly's help, I took 15 minutes to peel my shoes and socks off and switch to another pair. She - proving the love of a daughter for her Dad - lathered up my feet with vasoline, put my socks on and another pair of shoes (loosely tied to prevent blisters as your feet tend to swell over a marathon distance or greater.)
A good friend of mine, Karen Felicidario from The Woodlands had come to cheer me on for a little bit and had hoped that she would be able to run with me a little bit. Just knowing that I had a couple of friends that came out to cheer me on and/or see me finish is really inspiring (and I'm thankful.)
There was never any question in my mind that I would finish. The question was: When and in what kind of physical shape I'd be in at the end of it? (I think I have a couple of small blisters underneath my left foot.)
When I got into the first aid station of the third loop, I found my friend, Becky, sitting in a chair and spooning some hot soup out of a cup. She had a blister that was causing her immense pain. She had already spent time at the end of each of the first two loops to attend to it. (She had a kit that she could have attended to an army of people herself, although the race directors had people that were skilled at attending to them as they're common in races of these distances.)
She decided to press on to the next aid station which was 2.9 miles away. She thought about dropping from the race there, but wanted to make it back to the previous aid station. I could have pressed on, and she would have been OK with that; however, she had a plan to get through the 50-miler (and I hadn't). We had agreed to run some together when she found out that I had signed up. Therefore, I felt like I had a responsibility to stay with her on that 5.8-mile out-and-back until she made a final decision to drop. From there, it was 7.2 miles to the finish.
The next 4.3-mile section was the toughest of the five segments all 50-milers had to travel, and I was doing this loop in the dark (with a headlamp) and my body starting to feel the affects of general physical fatigue. Because I came in from Los Angeles the evening before, I had four hours of sleep Friday night. (And I can't get to sleep now!) What made the segment tough, about a thousand tree roots.
I had run 20 miles of the course last year with a good friend, Rick Cook, and had a blast pacing him through miles 60 to 80; however, I had fresh legs - and it was just above freezing. My type of running weather.
Another good friend of mine, Bill Dwyer, had taken Waverly to the 174 aid station where one of the clubs that I belong to was manning the last aid station on the loop.
I gave her a kiss and headed out for the last 2.9 miles, motivated by the fact that the two of us would get to run the last quarter of a mile together.
It is one of the two most physically challenging things that I've done - besides a 15.4-mile run (well, paid hike) in Colorado that started at 10,200 feet above sea level and peaked at 13,108 feet.
Why did I do either? To prove to myself that I could do it, and I guess to impress upon Waverly that she can do anything that she puts her mind to.
It's been five years since I ran my first race ever - a 4-miler. Never did I think that I was capable of finishing something like this. (And no I don't have any plans to try a 100-miler anytime soon!)
(Note: This was written for a wide audience of family, friends, former co-workers and originally sent via e-mail very early Sunday morning.)
As we started the second loop, and with temperatures unseasonably rising for a February Saturday afternoon, we got to the first Aid Station together, but I needed to abandon the pattern and begin walking the loop as fast as I could. I finished the next loop in 4 hours, 25 minutes (only about 10 minutes behind a hopeful goal).
With Waverly's help, I took 15 minutes to peel my shoes and socks off and switch to another pair. She - proving the love of a daughter for her Dad - lathered up my feet with vasoline, put my socks on and another pair of shoes (loosely tied to prevent blisters as your feet tend to swell over a marathon distance or greater.)
A good friend of mine, Karen Felicidario from The Woodlands had come to cheer me on for a little bit and had hoped that she would be able to run with me a little bit. Just knowing that I had a couple of friends that came out to cheer me on and/or see me finish is really inspiring (and I'm thankful.)
There was never any question in my mind that I would finish. The question was: When and in what kind of physical shape I'd be in at the end of it? (I think I have a couple of small blisters underneath my left foot.)
When I got into the first aid station of the third loop, I found my friend, Becky, sitting in a chair and spooning some hot soup out of a cup. She had a blister that was causing her immense pain. She had already spent time at the end of each of the first two loops to attend to it. (She had a kit that she could have attended to an army of people herself, although the race directors had people that were skilled at attending to them as they're common in races of these distances.)
She decided to press on to the next aid station which was 2.9 miles away. She thought about dropping from the race there, but wanted to make it back to the previous aid station. I could have pressed on, and she would have been OK with that; however, she had a plan to get through the 50-miler (and I hadn't). We had agreed to run some together when she found out that I had signed up. Therefore, I felt like I had a responsibility to stay with her on that 5.8-mile out-and-back until she made a final decision to drop. From there, it was 7.2 miles to the finish.
The next 4.3-mile section was the toughest of the five segments all 50-milers had to travel, and I was doing this loop in the dark (with a headlamp) and my body starting to feel the affects of general physical fatigue. Because I came in from Los Angeles the evening before, I had four hours of sleep Friday night. (And I can't get to sleep now!) What made the segment tough, about a thousand tree roots.
I had run 20 miles of the course last year with a good friend, Rick Cook, and had a blast pacing him through miles 60 to 80; however, I had fresh legs - and it was just above freezing. My type of running weather.
Another good friend of mine, Bill Dwyer, had taken Waverly to the 174 aid station where one of the clubs that I belong to was manning the last aid station on the loop.
I gave her a kiss and headed out for the last 2.9 miles, motivated by the fact that the two of us would get to run the last quarter of a mile together.
It is one of the two most physically challenging things that I've done - besides a 15.4-mile run (well, paid hike) in Colorado that started at 10,200 feet above sea level and peaked at 13,108 feet.
Why did I do either? To prove to myself that I could do it, and I guess to impress upon Waverly that she can do anything that she puts her mind to.
It's been five years since I ran my first race ever - a 4-miler. Never did I think that I was capable of finishing something like this. (And no I don't have any plans to try a 100-miler anytime soon!)
(Note: This was written for a wide audience of family, friends, former co-workers and originally sent via e-mail very early Sunday morning.)
posted by WalkSports.com | 11:01 PM
1 Comments:
Congrats on your acomplishment!
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