Rocky Raccoon report for a first 100

Getting the water and salt right must have been the secret to my first successful 100 at Rocky Raccoon.  After last October’s crash and burn at 57 miles of the AT100, I realized I still did not know how to hydrate properly.  My wife, Kalaya’s scolding me to use our skills as scientists eventually sank in.  I re-read about salt and water loss in the books, took some Ultralisters’ tips to use S-caps, and measured my weight loss on long training runs.  You’d think one could not train for ultras in New Orleans without learning how to manage water and salt!  I started training for the Rocky Raccoon 50k in the fall of 06, ran it that December (5:56), and then ran the 50-miler in Feb 07 (10:02).  This was the sum of my ultra experience aside from the DNF in Arkansas.

We would have been right on time for the briefing had I not tried to make a u-turn on a soft shoulder 5 minutes away from Huntsville State Park.  A friendly local called the owner of a nearby wrecker service for us, and our RV was out of the mud and registered for two nights in time for the pre-race dinner.  The renowned preparations of Director Joe Prusaitis were excellent.  With the spaghetti and salad, there were meated and non-meated sauces and a huge spread of pies, cakes, and cookies.

The weather could have been a little cooler. Friday-night’s 44 degrees warmed to the 70’s, but I can’t complain, particularly after getting cooked at the unseasonably warm AT100.

Every time I’ve moved to longer-distance events, I’ve experienced the consequences of wrong hydration.  I’ve generally shunned the sports drinks because they upset my stomach.  I don’t know what kind of denial/misconception allowed me to ignore the obvious wisdom of electrolyte replacement.  Suffice it to say that I’ve had to learn almost everything about taking care of myself the hard way and with multiple lessons.  Over the years, I’ve endured death-marches for the last couple miles of marathons and DNF’d one due to dehydration.  In 2003 I bailed from my first 50k attempt only one mile from the finish, practically delirious with hyponatremia.  In the last year or so of ultra training, I was making do with e-caps, but I would be incapacitated for several hours after long runs (probably hyponatremic).

This time I would get the hydration right.  By monitoring weight loss during 48-mile training runs I had figured out that I would need something like 2.5 liters of water and therefore 2500 mg sodium per 20-mile loop (sodium recommendation from A Step Beyond, edited by Don Allison).  I decided to take 6 S-caps (2046 mg sodium) per loop and make up the rest with food.  This must have been close to on-the-money because my weight never deviated from 174.  We brought along the bathroom scale, and I jumped on after touching base at the start/finish of each of the five 20-mile loops.  During the first loop I took only three S-caps and didn’t finish my 0.5-L hand-held between aid stations.  I figured this was okay because I’ve found that I lose less water in the first few hours of a run and the temperature was on the cool side.  Thereafter, however, I steadily knocked down a bottle per station and took 6 S-caps per loop.

For nutrition, I went with two bottles of Perpetuem per loop and just a little snack at every station, a handful of Cheetos, quarter PBJ, banana piece, a couple of potatoes dipped in salt, etc.   The variety of foods at those aid stations is terrific.  The hot grilled-cheese sandwiches (quarter) were a real treat.  Oh, and the ramen noodles, yeah!  I didn’t spend much time at the aid stations, didn’t need to.  I think I filled my bottle myself only once.  I didn’t even dig in my drop bag at Dam Road.  They’d bring out the powder that I’d previously measured into snack baggies.  I’d bite off the corner, pour, fill, and go.  I can’t say enough about the volunteers.  Thank you.  Thank you. I made a point to greet Deborah after hearing on the list that she would be welcoming hellos at Dam Road (and she also chastised us about last years’ littering on the trail).  She gave me two seconds of big smile and hello, looking up from what must have been constant sandwich making.  I also found a distraction for myself in picking up all the litter I saw, mostly sticky gel packs or their torn corners.  Yuck.  I hate gels. 

On the first loop, the exuberance of the start propelled me with the mob out of the developed area of the park and into the first stretch of single-track.  I quickly remembered that it would be a constant battle with myself to pick-up my feet to avoid jamming or trapping my toes on the roots.  I don’t get on the trail much here in New Orleans.  The nearest thing is a two-mile loop in Audubon Park.  Otherwise, it’s the pot-holed streets, broken sidewalks, and grassy batture behind the River levee.  On the long stretch of single-track at the end of the first loop, I bashed my toe good.  This is the same one, I’ve lost the nail from before.  The pain jangled up my leg but quickly retreated as I continued along.  This wouldn’t stop me.

The daytime running was just an all-around enjoyable experience.  Even though they’d had an inch of rain on Thursday, the course had no puddles too large to step around.  Knowing the course (from 50k and 50-miler races) is comforting in an intangible way.  Likewise, the looping in the course provides some kind of psychological lift.  Nevertheless, the 4-5 hour time interval for each loop changes the look and feel of the course enough to keep it interesting. Even though I’d planned to walk all uphills, I trotted up the gentle slopes of the jeep trails, figuring this could give me a little margin for staying under 24 hours. 

The evening and night presented the real physical and emotional challenge.  As the afternoon wore on, the sky clouded over, and it seemed like evening would arrive two hours early.  I started to think I’d better put on my lamp on at 3:30.  I was nervous about the long overnight after a full-day’s running.  Somewhere in the middle of loop three I would be in new distance territory, never having run beyond 57 miles.  A volunteer reminded me that I would be back to my drop bag in an hour and a half, so I could pickup my lamp in time for the 5:50 sundown.  Toward the end of that loop, I told myself the next time I was here I’d be on my fourth and second-to-last loop.  I also started telling myself that the pain in my legs is just the new normal.  It won’t kill me.  I can run with it. 

Sure enough, the night was tough, but I didn’t really change anything except to go a little slower in the single-track.  I could no longer go bounding down the hills because I couldn’t see well enough and it hurt too much.  I like the spread mode of my headlamp because it’s easy to see the direction of the trail, but the light is kind of weak, so it’s harder to see the roots.  One of the aggravating things of a course that doubles back is the oncoming traffic.  Some of you guys really like your very bright lamps, two and three of them sometimes, hand-helds flopping up and down, beams flashing into my eyes.  I was grateful for wearing my visor so I could look down to shield my eyes and concentrate on the roots.  Like Lynnor said in her report, symphony of the frogs was intense, almost deafening.  I came to take it as a sign of nearing the end of a loop because they were loudest in the swamp about half way between stations 4 and 5 (of 6).

I’m still surprised that I could feel reasonably normal after 100 miles.  The last loop was real hard but not a death march.  I was pleased with my overall time (22:27), but especially pleased with the relatively even splits (approximately 4:00, 4:10, 4:20, 5:00, 5:00).  I have you guys of the list to thank for tidbits that can make a big difference.  The big thanks goes to Kalaya for putting up with long absences and solo watching the kids while I’m out putting in the training miles.

Sam