Smitty and The Raccoon Den

"An ultralong story about my first ultramarathon"

 

Ever since I started running, I have always been fascinated with the ultra marathon. I first learned about these ultra-distance events when reading Alberto Salazar’s books on running. He won the Comrades ultra marathon in South Africa (his last race as a pro), and according to him his most gratifying race.

 

Back in September, I decided this was the winter that I was going to try an ultra. I set my sights on a 24 hour event called the Ultracentric. It was going to be a 2 mile loop and you were to attempt to run as far as you could in 24 hours. However, my training never got off the ground. My mom got sick and work got really busy. My ultra hopes were dashed. I began looking for an ultra in February or March. I asked Dr. George Sobiesk (the only man I know that has done an ultra) what race he suggested for a first timer. He suggested a 50 miler in Laurel Mississippi. It was scheduled in March. So, in late November, with a new goal in my sights I started training. It wasn’t two weeks later that I learned that Rouge Roubaix, a bike race I love to do was scheduled on that same weekend as the ultra in Mississippi. I was so disappointed. It looked like fate wasn’t going to ever allow me to toe the line in an ultra.

 

Back to the computer I went. I was now searching for a February ultra, close enough to travel by vehicle. There she was, Rocky Raccoon, in Huntsville Texas. This time I didn’t hesitate, I pulled the trigger and entered the race. My training for this race included plenty of one thing - RUNNING!!! As a triathlete I am used to cross training. As much as I love to run, by the time I started my taper for this race, I was sick of running.

 

In my preparation for this race there are many people I need to thank. George Sobiesk for giving me the, "oh yea, you can do it" spiel. Coming from someone that had done an ultra, it eased my mind plenty. Mark Miller and Troy Fruge for cruising the Houston Marathon with me as a training run just 3 weeks out from Rocky Raccoon. Ben Hawn, who in the midst of a 22 mile run to Lafayette from New Iberia, told me "maybe you should try a 50k for your first ultra", to which my reply was, "hell Ben, you and I could run that today - that’s no f@#)ing challenge!!". Ben, in his infinite wisdom, always knows how to motivate me. My dad for not committing me, when I asked him to drop me off up the road (way up the road) for one of my training runs so that I could do a point to point run back home. He kept saying, maybe you should get out here, or here, or here. I would just smile and say keep driving dad. I still think that he believes I hitched a ride home. Many others who called to wish me luck and give me confidence- Jim, Brad, Rickey, Charlie, and all my fishing buddies that figured this was perfect - I would finally cripple myself and return to fulltime fishing!

 

In the end, there are only two more on my list of thank you’s and these are the biggest. First, my wife (besides putting up with me for 12 years), and the "MAN" upstairs - God. I’ll explain these in detail (sorry). For months I have been the picture of health - no issues whatsoever. Typically though, on Tuesday of race week, my sinuses clogged and I started to feel like crap. By Friday morning, I was a mess and on enough medication to stop a racehorse. My head felt like a balloon. Most wives would have told their husbands to give up, stay home and save the gas money and hotel money (so that they could buy a Louis Vuitton purse or some other high dollar useless item). My wife on the other hand, told me to go. She knows me well and told me that if I woke up on Saturday morning feeling better that I would never forgive myself. She also told me that she had faith in me, that I would show up, start, and finish the race.

 

So, I packed my truck and started the long drive to Huntsville. The whole way up, I felt horrible. I was miserable, thinking about wasting my time driving up only to have to bail out and drive home. I knew that ride home would be horrible, kicking myself the whole way. When I arrived at the state park, I stopped at one of the outdoor restrooms to relieve myself. I entered the restroom and heard something rustling around. I figured oh shit, it’s a child molester or some other perv. Instead, I looked up to come face to face with a huge vulture, yes a giant vulture. If I believed in omens, I would have jumped back in the truck and not stopped until New Iberia. Instead I headed to the prerace meeting. I was coughing up lung cookies and racers were giving me space like I had the plague. I figured what the hell, I got a t-shirt and a packet of hammer heed for my 5 hour drive - ha!

 

That night at my hotel, I tried to go to sleep at 8pm. At around 9 pm, I was still staring at the ceiling and had a headache that felt like someone had left a hatchet in the middle of my forehead. I didn’t want to take any more medicine, but I didn’t have a choice. I took some Advil and "threw in the towel". I knew there was no way I could run 50 miles the next day. I sat up, turned on the TV and watched until midnight. I was so upset and disgusted. I had been praying all day for God to give me a miracle and heal me. Now my prayer was for him to help me accept the inevitable. After an hour or two, I was at peace with my decision and drifted off to sleep. I left the alarms set for 4am and figured I would just pack the truck up and drive home with an early start.

 

4 am came quickly and I climbed out of bed. Thing was, I was feeling OK. After a quick systems check, I decided I could probably toe the line. It was a miracle. I had felt so bad the night before. The race was three 16.7 mile loops. I figured I could run one lap and if I felt bad, DNF. So, instead of driving home, I found myself driving to the state park for the race. It was 26 degrees and bitterly cold. Perfect conditions for a guy with respiratory infection to attempt his first 50 mile race. On the way there I called my wife and told her the news. I know she was worried and thought I was crazy, but still she encouraged me and told me how confident she was in my ability to finish this race. Mark Miller also called and told me the same thing. Folks, forget coaching, training, supplements, etc. The most important thing in any endurance event is those around you that support you and give you confidence. This game is mental and when the ones that you trust back you up with positive reinforcement, there is nothing you can’t do. Your mind and not your legs are going to get you through something like this. If there is one piece of advice I can give anyone in sports or life, surround yourself with positive people.

 

Well, 7am finally rolled around and so did the start. It was anticlimactic by most standards. We all started off in a slow jog. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I soon found out. Whomever called this course "rocky" was smocking rock. It should be called rooty/hilly raccoon. (I know you old farts - rocky raccoon is a Beatles song). I was shocked when everyone slowed at the first hill and began to walk. Wanting to fit in, I walked with them. At the crest, we began to run again. The course was plenty technical with many turns and thousands upon thousands of roots and hills. With all of the rain of late, the course was also very muddy. There were aid stations spaced out about every 3-4 miles over the 16.7 mile loop. I cruised the whole first lap and felt perfect. It was as if I was on cruise control. I ate, took my salt and hydrated. My goal was to make the first loop in about 3 hours. It took me 3 hours and about 10 minutes.

 

I had a drop bag at the turnaround with all of my gear in it. I changed socks and knocked the sand off of my feet and added bodyglide to the bottom of my feet. I called my wife and told her I was doing fine and was going to make it. I told her to call the guys at Precision Bikes and tell them I was still alive and moving forward. I also told her to expect a call about 6 or 7 pm (11-12 hour finish). It was at this turnaround that I also learned about the importance and multiple uses of vaseline. Vaseline is my friend. My groin area was starting to chafe. In the dry cold air, my tights, fuel belt, and anything on my body was chafing me into submission. The scary thought was that this was only the first loop. I had two more to go. After wasting about 10 minutes at the turnaround, I started lap #2.

 

Mentally I told myself that when I reached the Dam Road aid station on this loop, I would be at 26.1 miles. In other words, about .1 mile out of that aid station I would be running further than I ever had before. I reached that point about 5 hours into the race. I was feeling good, no really great. There is a BIG difference between running roads and trails. The trails are much tougher. You must study the ground in front of you, lest you become one with it. I tripped on many a root and thank God I had gloves on, or my hands would be fragged. I saw several people face plant. There were also very few flat sections on this course. It was rolling hills throughout and this is tough on the quads, hamstrings, and mostly the knees. The remainder of lap #2, I was in sheer elation, knowing that every step I took was further than I had ever been before. You are only a virgin once, and from past experience, I was making sure to enjoy every minute of my new found miles.

 

When I finally reached the turnaround this time, my groin area was ground meat at best. The knobs on the inside of my ankles were torn to shreds and I was hungry as hell. I am sure that the spectators that could see me were impressed as I slathered an entire small can of vaseline into my tights, by hand. I changed shoes and socks this time, asked the girls to change the suicide music they had playing to something more upbeat. I then proceeded to eat my body weight in peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, burritos, and treated myself to a snickers bar and redbull I had packed along for myself. Thinking back, I didn’t get a chance to wash my hands - oh my GOD!! I also learned that I need to buy a pair of gaiters (most people were wearing them). They are these little covers that fit tight around the ankles and cover the top of the shoe. They keep debris out of your shoes. I can’t tell you how much sand, pine needles, mud, etc. found its way into my shoes. So, two more notes to self: 1-wash hands after applying vaseline, 2 - buy gaiters.

 

Off I went into lap #3, the final lap on my quest to complete my first ultra. I was still feeling pretty good, considering I had run nearly 34 miles. I knew this was far from over. In an event of this duration anything can and will happen. When I left for the final lap, my watch read 6:40. I had been running for almost seven hours. Now, I knew it was an aid station to aid station run. I was really starting to get loopy now, which is good. I thanked God for healing me and allowing me to toe the line for this race. Even in my altered state of mind, I saw His angle. He is going to teach me patience and faith one way or the other. Those of you that know me, know that I am a loud mouth, foul mouthed hellion. That said, I went to an all boys Catholic School for 12 years, so I still have some religion. The day before the race, I prayed and asked God to give me a sign. I opened the bible to a random passage (I call this Catholic astrology - ha!!). I opened it to the story of Daniel in the lions den. Daniel, feared nothing, not even the lions, because he had faith in God. Well, Friday night, I had lost faith in God and myself in that hotel room, but God, my wife and my friends never lost faith in me. 40 miles into this race, I found that faith in God and myself again. It wasn’t Daniel and the den of lions, but Smitty and the den of raccoons. These are the things that go through your mind after running for 8 hours. Take my word for it, or lace 'em up!!

 

It wasn’t until the second to last aid station, with 7 miles left to go that I realized I was going to make it. Everyone that has ever raced, knows that point. It is an awesome feeling, not quite as good as the finish line, but close. I was really starting to feel tired. I had been running for 9 hours. I ate a ton of food at that aid station. PB&J sandwiches, pretzels, and plenty of munchos. I could kiss whomever bought the munchos - they are my alltime favorite snack - besides redbull and vodka.

 

Those last 7 miles were the hardest 7 miles I have ever covered in my entire life. My fitness was never a problem. It was simply muscular endurance. My legs weren’t firing. My training wasn’t enough - I knew that going in. My longest run was the houston marathon. I needed to do more trail running (hills/roots/etc.) and at least a couple of runs of 5 - 6 hours in duration. Finally, I reached the last aid station. Only 3 miles left, but they might as well have been 30, I was spent and all the food I had eaten at the last aid station was still in my stomach. I was bloated and I looked and felt like Maria Placer after a Caribbean Cruise. My knees were also beginning to hurt pretty damn bad. I would walk up the hills and it would take everything I had to get myself running again. It was as tough as it gets.

 

Finally, I made the final turn and found the last 400 meters of pavement to the finish line. I will never ever complain about running on pavement again. I will also never ever complain about the three loops of an Ironman marathon. I crossed the line and smiled. No one was hollering over a microphone, there was no loud rock music, and nobody declared me anything. There was light smattering of applause by the volunteers and a congratulations from the race director and they handed me my medal, still in the packaging. Ultras are different, a good different. Low key and easy going. Everyone on the course was super friendly and encouraging. It never seemed like a "race". It was more like a journey or trip. In the end, I crossed the line in about 10 hours and 23 minutes. I needed a sub 11 hour to qualify for the Western States 100. Am I ready for a 100 mile race - no way!! With God and my support crew (family/friends) I now know there is absolutely nothing I can’t do.

 

My wife left a gift in one of my pairs of running shoes in my turnaround bag. It is a keychain, and on it she engraved "ROMANS 5". It has always been my favorite passage in the bible. I will leave you with Paul’s deep words and my thanks for bearing with me on my journey.

 

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Romans 5:3-5)