Up the Tantalus Road

It was the typical Saturday Haleakela Training Run. Good to be back on familiar ground, and good to be running with some old friends. We ran to the top of Concretes and got a ride down. Did two of these. Everyone seemed to be just about trained out. The RTS is just weeks away.

Midway up the Road.

Farther up the Hill

I ran a bit with Don, and chased a few of the others. The roads were a bit hard on my legs. The ups were not great times, but they were ups. I needed to run with the bottle pack to get used to it again. Just slapping it on always causes me to have spasms in my right piriformis.

Makapu'u!! Home again.

Down below the Makapu'u road, there is a path that leads to th stone formation and the small bay to the right

It was with great satisfaction and relief that I met Don for a few ups at Makapu'u head. The entire process of getting ready, the drive out, and the transition to the eastern end of the island was a great pleasure for me. I got there on time and was surprised to find that Don wasn't there yet. So after sitting around for a bit, I made my way up the road, keeping my eye on the curve in the road at the bottom of the ridge, and looking for Don's car.

It was blowing a bit, threatening to rain, and I found myself kind of hiding in the lee of the Keawe that grows along the road. There is a path that leads out to the small bay and remnants of fishponds that offered some shelter. Finally I spotted Don's car, and waited until it made the turn into the parking area. As it headed down toward the parking I began a 'great striding' down the road and into the parking area. I don't know how much of this act Don caught, it didn't much matter, actually. In the end it appeared that I had just finished an 'up'. It was a long and complicated production for such a small joke. But you never know.

After a good greeting we managed to do a couple of good loops. It was good to get together and to talk. Don about his trip to the northwest and Glacier, and me about the high desert and the Rocky Raccoon.

It was windy and kind of chilly, but it was good to back in Hawaii no matter what the weather!

Baylor Pass Trail

Baylor Pass Trail

The Baylor Pass Trail goes over the Organ Mountains through the Baylor Pass. You find the western Trail head a ways out of Las Cruses off the road to White Sands. The trail head itself is a lot like the rest of the western slopes of this mountain range and not much different than the area I ran in the Dry Rock Ridge run. The trail heads kind of northwest into the hills skirting the low ridges and winding into the main valley that ultimately becomes the entrance to the Pass.

Janet and I did the trail, and Wayne took the truck around to Aguirre Springs to pick us up. It was a pleasant hike. I could have run a bit, but Janet and I were talking occasionally and it didn't seem to be worthwhile to run off in pursuit of that ephemeral quality of 'fitness' that runners are so often chasing. We moved on, taking in the sights, stopping occasionally, and enjoying the trail. We passed a couple of couples near the crest, but the trail was pretty much ours for most of the hike.

We got over the ridge and the eastern slopes were more lush, in that New Mexican kind of way. and we were not far from the Pine Tree trail, that I had done on one of my first days in Las Cruses. I can understand why Wayne likes that area. I would enjoy going back there again. Maybe doing a Baylor Pass-Pine Tree-return; or some such ridiculousness.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Pictures

Corralitos Road Run

Corralitos Road ' Not Quite Half-Marathon' Run

High on the flat mesa in the far distance is my goal, a white radar dome.

I'm not sure why I decided this was going to be a fun run, but when Wayne and I drove out here the day after my arrival in Las Cruses I became intrigued with running this stretch of highway. Actually I was interested in running the mountains in the distance, which is where the road before us in the picture above leads. However in order to make this a 'reasonable' run I had to include a good section of rolling desert road into the mix. Eight or Nine miles of it to be more precise.

When I first mentioned it, Janet had said she was going to come along and ride her bike. Wayne had brought a pistol along and he goes shooting off in a arroyo behind where I took this picture.
On the appointed day the weather was nasty in a Hawaii kind of way, and kind of nice in a Las Cruses frame of mind. It was cold and windy. But it was sunny as you can see. Janet decided she had better things to do. Wayne looked at me and laughed. I dressed in my cold weather gear and prepared for the worst.

When I first got started it was bitter cold. My hands were freezing, the wind was slipping into my clothing, and I was tight and in a nasty mood. I got to the top of the rise where I took the first picture and just swore and shook my head. There was no turning back really, I'd made a bit of a thing about running the road, so I just moved on, working out the tightness and putting up with the cold. In time my own body heat began to warm me, and I actually got into a bit of a pace.

I was reminded of a couple of Twilight Zone episodes as I jogged down the road. The first was the one where the guys stole the gold in 1960 and through some scientific trick managed to go into suspended animation for fifty or a hundred years. When they woke up they killed one another until only one guy was left, and he stumbled down a road like the one I was on, grasping a few bars of gold. A car eventually came by, and the guy tried to trade the gold for a drink of water. Then he died. The people in the car marveled that anyone would be so nuts as to carry around gold, which they were producing plentifully from sea water, or some such inanity.

Well the future was nothing like the episode, and gold is still tradeable for water. And the car those people were driving still hasn't been created. But wandering alone down that road with not another person in sight can be just as unsettling. The cold wind would shift occasionally, blowing directly into my face, and backing off to the north a bit. I saw a jack rabbit or two, there was a big red tail hawk that was soaring above me for a while, and some small birds, but mostly the critters were holed up some where, out of the wind and cold; only mad dogs and ultra runners, as the saying goes. Pictures

The farther down the road I ran, the longer it seemed I had to go to reach the distant mountains. The rolling desert has a way of unfolding before you, each time revealing a bit more of endless supply of miles of bleak road it hoards like gold. The only change was that the tiny speck of white that was the radar tower seemed to grow ever so slightly, and after an hour or so it had gone from the size of a grain of sand to pin prick. I took heart in that and moved down the road still not knowing how much road the desert had in store for me.

There are havalina out on these lonely rolling hills. Wayne and I had seen a sow and her young the first time out, and on this run I saw some hunters carrying one out of the range to the left of the road. They look like pigs, but are actually rodents, much like Kapibarra. They must be tough if they can survive out on the winter desert range, and eat those prickly pear cactus with the two inch thorns.

Aside from the hunters and some other trucks I didn't see much out there. I got a picture of a 'Watch out for Water' sign, which I felt was interesting given how dry it was out there. But Wayne assured me that when the rains come the water just 'sheets' over the coleche soil and runs like an sob. Some of the arroyo's showed evidence of that, and even the drainage ditches along the side of the road were often dug very deep by erosion. Out here there either is not enough water or just too much. The trick is keeping it around for a while. The counties dig and maintain retention dams and the roads that run out to them. They are the reason that cattle can survive out here.

As I got closer to the hills I began to run into more cattle. Higher up, even just a few hundred feet there seems to be a bit more grazing for the poor beasts and they congregate around the water pools and dry grasses. Every once in a while you see a cow with a bit of old longhorn in it an it is sporting a wide set of horns. Impressive. The cows were much like other runners at most of the ultra runs I do. They stared at me wide eyed and when I spoke to them they got really spooked and ran away. At least I know its an inter species kind of thing, an should take no real offense.

Anyway I finally reached the bottom of the hills, which are really low mountains. They were actually fairly steep and going up them was a challenge. I was quite surprised by how far I could see as I made it toward the top of the first of them. It was there that I recalled the second Twilight Zone, the one where the three astronauts crash land and think they are on some asteroid. Once again they have problems, and one guy kills his buddies to get all the water. He then comes over a rise and looks out on a scene cut by telephone lines. Information is neither good, nor bad, but you can get yourself into a real jam if you don't interpret it correctly.

There were two steep climbs and at the top of the second one I expected to be able to make my way up to the top of the mesa where the radar tower is. But it didn't work out that way. When I got to the road there was a gate with a bunch of signs on it telling me I could be thrown in jail or killed if the government felt I was a big enough threat. I really wanted to climb that hill, I had been thinking about it for hours, but I had seen an FAA pickup pass me so I knew there was somebody up there, and it was only a training run. I took a few pictures of the gate to prove I had a reason to stop and headed back to where Wayne was looking for arrow heads.

I forget what time I had told Wayne I would do the run in. I beat that, but it was nothing to brag about. I was just a run to keep me fit, and to see a bit of the land in that slow kind of way that runners enjoy.

Agurrie Springs and Pine Tree Trail.

The Pine Tree Trail at Agurrie Springs

Looking Northwest at the 'Rabbit Ears' along the Pine Tree Trail.

Wayne and I went over to Aguirre Springs for the afternoon. I needed to get out and do a hike, and he wanted to take some pictures of a particular tree that he has been photographing over the past year. The springs is over on the eastern side of the Organ Mountains and just above the White Sands Testing Grounds. It is a beautiful place with lots of pinion pine and an abundance of wildlife. Wayne mentioned that they took a number of male mountain lions out of the area, and talked about the host of snakes that one can run into in warmer weather. I've smelt mountain lion marking before, and one can not miss it if you pass by.

It was a beautiful day, as you can see from the pictures. I did a fast walk up the hill and jogged down at a good pace. The loop is just over four miles. It was a nice hike. Click here for more pictures: More Pictures

A Walk Along the Rio Grande

A Walk Along the Rio Grande.

East bank of the Rio Grande looking South.

Looking South, Wayne and Janet live off the river at the bottom of the bend.

The Organ Mountains in the distance.

Looking North along the East Bank of the Rio Grand.

I took a walk along the Rio Grande near Wayne's House. It is a flat area with a profusion of low growing cottonwoods. There are some horse trails that meander along the banks of the river and I followed them for about a mile or two. I just wandered, and made my way out onto the river bed occasionally. Even at its most narrow points the river was never very deep. More of a large stream than a river really, but even this much flowing water is considered remarkable at this time of year. It was cold and windy, but not unpleasant. I saw traces of beavers. I spotted a Jack Rabbit, lots of doves, and a red tailed hawk. I ran across a pile of feathers where the hawk had caught a dove. Poor dove has to be more feathers than meat, given the broad area of white fluff.

Wandering down the horse trails along the river I occasionally felt a part of the long past traffic that moved up and down the river as it made its way north and south toward Messila, the old town to the south of Las Cruces.

White Sands National Park

A Trip to White Sands National Park

On the Dunes, looking to the east.

Wind patterns in the sand dune

Wayne and Lisa


Seed pods and dormant grasses.

Miles of Dunes.

I've visited White Sands National Park three times over the last 10 years or so. The other two times were in the spring and fall when the weather was a bit warmer and I was lucky enough to be there on sunny days. This time it was cold, windy, and pretty gray. Bleak is a word that comes to mind. It was unfortunate as Lisa, one of Wayne's turtle research buddies, had never been there before. We did our best to see the sites but it was a bit hard as the stunning views were reduced, and the tremendous contrasts of foliage and flowers against the white sands was absent. I also think another reason was that we had all had a bit to drink on Saturday, at Wayne's party and we just were not into a lot of exercise.

I had hoped to run here, but it just didn't work out. Its a bit far from Las Cruses, and the winds and cold weather where just enough to keep me from insisting on spending a day moving over these dunes.

Dry Rock Ridge Run

The Dry Rockridge Run

Coming up a dry rock ridge and out of an Arroyo

Lots of Dry Rock Ridges...

An arroyo hides water and vegetation. Dry Rock ridges in distance.

The Intrepid starters.

A week after the Rocky Raccoon I did the Dry Rock Ridge Run in Vado New Mexico. It was scheduled for 35 miles, but I only got in about 18 before calling it quits. The run was organized by Mark Dorian,in the orange shirt, who also organized the last run I did in this area two years ago. Mark does a terrific job of making these runs enjoyable and they hearken back to the days when Ultra Running was for the dedicated few who believed in the idea of the hard long trail. Unfortunately local turnout never seems to be very great and I think even Mark, for all his dedication, is ready to call it quits on these Ultra runs along the Sierra Vista trail which runs between El Paso and North of Las Cruses. More Pictures

Some of the run covered the same Sierra Vista trail that I had run two years ago, only Vado is farther south and much more of the run is on single track trail across the desert and through the many arroyo's that claw themselves into the land. Vado, most famous as the retirement area of the Buffalo Soldiers, a regiment of Black Calvary who served after as Indian fighters, when they left service at Fort Seldon, which just north of Las Cruses. These were the troops who chased and hunted Geronimo and his clans over much of this land.

As the pictures show the land is deceptive. One can look over long distances at seemingly low rolling desert and never see the web work of arroyos and washes that crisscross the land. As we ran north the ruggedness of land unfolded before us, and those ahead of me disappeared and reappeared as they dropped in and climbed out of the deeper ravines in the land. Trying to find anyone out here, who knew the land, and wanted to stay hidden would be near impossible. An entire clan could hunker down in the largest of these washes and not even be seen by men passing a few hundred feet away. All it takes is a few hours of running the trails across the desert to understand why the Clans of Indians were so hard to track down. Their knowledge was their key to the land and their freedom.

The vegetation is sparse and nasty. Spikes, thorns, stickers, and prickers are the norm and they scatter themselves across sandy rocky rolling hills in a pattern of defence that even staying on the trails can defeat. Everything protects itself with a vengeance, and all this stuff grows close to the trail, or hangs over it. It is hard to do these runs without getting some kind of scratch or prick or worse. We have a lot of the same kind of plants in Hawaii, but they seem to be much less nasty. The prickly pear in the Chihauhaun desert has needles four inches long while in Hawaii they are barely an inch. Mesquite, or Keawe, here has thorns that can puncture a car tire, while in Hawaii they may be vicious to human flesh but are no match for a car.

I left for the start early, more because I wasn't sure when the run would start. It was dark when I went down the Vado Road and I missed the turn-off which was well taped. I went into a development of homes and trailers and wandered around there, and then came back an stupidly decided to go down a road under the powerlines. I realized the error too late, and when I tried to turn around I found the tires digging into the loose sand. Nothing like being stranded out in the middle of East Vado, makes Buttfuk seem like civilization, I can tell you that. Anyway Wayne's truck has fourwheel drive so after trying to get myself out with regular drive, I shifted into four wheel and backed out (as I should have in the first place) of trouble and turned around at the top of the arroyo and headed back out to the road.

I quickly found the race start, and took it easy for about 30 minutes before others began to show up. Not many people did show. I think Mark took this lack of people kind of hard. He puts a lot of effort into these runs, and gets little support, or participation. Don't know why. Its hard country to run in. People prefer the safety of the roads in the summer months, as the snakes can at least be seen, and in the winter it is bleak out there.

We started, about six of us, and I could immediately tell that my left thigh was not going to do too well. I began a slow walk hoping to loosen it up and after maybe two miles or so was able to begin a better stride. Four miles in and I was jogging a bit. But I was wounded and my heart was not into the run. I knew that Janet, Wayne's wife, was going nuts at home getting ready for the party, and I had told her I would be home by about 2:00. So I moved on, having given myself a five hour time frame. Not a lot of time to do 35 miles. I had expected us to start an hour or so earlier, and now my leg was not feeling good. I gave it a game try. At the end of the first loop, maybe 15 miles in, I decided to go out and turn around at five hours on my watch. I did that. I maybe went out a mile and a half or more before running into Gary and Fahod who were completing their first lap, and I turned around and went back to the cars with them.

It was good I headed back as Janet needed help, and Wayne, still not fully knowing what was going on, was becoming a bit of a problem. I don't normally flake without a good injury related reason, but this was different. I'd seen enough of Vado.

Petroglyphs

Petroglyphs

HIgh Mesa Drive

Drive up High Mesa

Rocky Raccoon

The ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILER: February 7-8th, 2009

Typical Trail at Rocky.

It was one of those Ultra Travel days that one can not prepare for, no matter how one tries. But getting into Phoenix at 10:30 in the evening made it impossible to avoid. I had an early flight out to Houston and there was no sense in getting a hotel room, or calling on friends or family to come and get me. So I laid around for ten hours in the Phoenix airport, which is not particularly 'through passenger' friendly...not even much carpet to find to crash on, and couches and benches in very high demand.

The plane ride to Houston, when it finally eventuated, was routine and welcome after the boredom of the Phoenix night. I had looked into doing something in Houston before heading north to Huntsville. My choices were a produce market or the National Mortuary Museum. For some reason, it must have been my upbeat attitude upon getting out of the 'air travel' purgatory, I chose the produce market. And having perused google before leaving I had an idea of where it was, though I managed to leave the map at home. And it was one hell of a market! A few acres of produce and Hispanic vendors. All the produce you could want and at very reasonable prices. I ended up with some ice cream banana, some sweet oranges, and a bag full of the biggest peanuts I have ever seen. However I was too tired to actually get in line at one of the vans in the back and have a meal. A breakfast burrito would have done me well, but I get that way when I travel sometimes... unable to make any real decisions I wander aimlessly. I finally found myself back a my car and headed north again. Outside of Huntsville I stopped at the Sam Houston monument. Big Sam Houston stands about sixty feet high and glows in the Winter sun. Photos

After nearly twenty-four hours of airplanes, airports, and rental cars, I got to the motel room, beat and banged up, and seeing too many fingers in front of my face. I got into the room, collapsed on the bed, only to find Gideon’s bible. Gideon had checked out, he’d left it no doubt..........you’ve heard the tune...

I woke in the morning to find the weather was grand, the sky bright blue and as big as the state of Texas. It was as warm as it was when I was running the Manoa Falls, not three weeks before in Manoa. So for me it was cool; but for others it was a sauna, as they had just come from St. Paul, or Kansas where the temperatures were in the teens. I started the day with a trip down to the Race venue, which is on a small lake just south of town. This part of Texas is known for its low rolling hills and expansive pine forests. I kind of liked it. It had pine, holy, oak, and the occasional palmetto palm growing in thick cover over more oak and pine scrub. Not thick at this time of year, but certainly forest. I can only imagine what this place is like in hotter, wetter times, when the chiggers, ticks, mosquito's, snakes, and heat and humidity make it more exciting than one may desire. February is a fine time to run southern Texas forests, and this particular February seemed to be optimal.

I spent the rest of the day buying vast quantities of Ensure and Boost. Given my experience in the HURT just three weeks before I was convinced that the liquid supplements would be my salvation. When I had finished going from one store to the next I had a stash of supplements that could fill my car trunk. Weather I would need this, or even be able to drink it all in the time I had to run the race was a question I just didn't want to deal with. I was driven only by the goal of having enough and not running out, something that had plagued me in the latter laps of the HURT, where I had to rely on the aid stations to supply it. I made a meal of boost and some peanuts and went to bed early.

I was up in the night, I put on a long sleeve HURT shirt, and the rest of my uniform and it did me just fine. But my support bags were packed with all kinds of cold and wet weather gear. Outside my room I found a lot of other runners packing their cars. The Rocky Raccoon had 240 paid 100 milers and about as many 50 mile starters. A big race. I got there a bit early fearing a crowed lot, but given the parking lots at the lake it was no problem at all.

It was an informal start. There may have been a prayer, I couldn't hear. We were standing around one minute, and the next people were slowly making their way through the aid tent and over the start line. I hit my stop watch and we were off. As usual I was not running, and just stretching out a bit over the first miles. Even starting far back in the mob, I had a lot of people come by me. But the ground was soft and the trails rolling, and before I was really ready I found myself jogging along at a faster pace than I am used to doing at that stage.

As I found out very quickly, this race is a sprint over rolling dirt or sandy trails and twisty curvy forest paths, or down straight long rolling dirt roads and tracks. But don’t think it’s a lark, the paths are crisscrossed with roots, and the trees come alive in the night. I stumbled numerous times in the early miles, failing to see the roots hidden under the debris and once even managed to take a good fall as I whacked a high root. I whacked and bumped my shoes, and was left wondering if my right big toe nail will ever have time to re-grow. So if you come out this way, be fast but be wide-eyed, for these rolling trails can be deceptively technical, particularly in the early stages of the race when you may think you are running smooth open trail.

I knew I was moving along well, but I was not really push hard. Somewhere after the first hour and a half we joined up with the fifty milers who were doing a slightly different loop. The trails became a bit more crowded and the sun came up. I found myself running with Kelly who was doing the fifty miler. It was her first Ultra and she was a bit concerned. She needn't be as she had some good Marathons. Her pace was a bit fast for me, but she was a steady runner and I could gear down and stick behind her. Following her over the last half of the loop, even with some conversation, brought me back toward the finish at 4:15. When we hit the start/finish I wished her a good race as I knew I was not going to be maintaining that pace. I was already feeling the twinges of things not quite right in my legs. It was easy to change my pace a bit, and to ignore them, they were no problem if I was doing a 50 K, or even a fifty miler, but I knew I was pushing things so early in a hundred miler. But Kelly was nice to talk to, and her pace was quick, and it felt good.

I slowed on the second lap, but I was still running a fifty miler with my body, and my mind knew that I moving too fast. I was passing a lot of runners, hard to tell if they were fifty milers or hundred runners. I was running light on my camel pack, trying to keep my weight down, and just using the heavy liquid load that the late night and early morning ensure and boost were bringing to me. There was no Bag Balm to be found in Huntsville and I had only a small amount with me. The Vaseline is never much of a help, and early in the second lap I started to have problems with the typical places. I slapped on more Vaseline and pushed on. I ran out of water twice as I tried to keep my pack light. It was stupid planning, as I could have taken a few seconds to dump in some water at the aid stations. But I was enamored with my fast pace and not really looking to far down the road.

As the sun came up the weather got really nice. I was running with a black long sleeve HURT shirt and it was perfect for the conditions. Most of the runners around me were complaining of the heat. I welcomed it, as it was still just a bit cool for Hawaii conditions. I pushed on, jogging more than I normally do and joining up with various people when our paces coincided. These were small conversations that generally ended at aid stations when I pushed through and most others took a bit of time grazing and chatting with the volunteers and other runners. I just ticked off the list people I passed, their backs to me as they reached for food. I'm not particularly social on runs, and as a middle of the pack runner people often get a laugh out of my silent stalking competitiveness. My feeling on this is that, many of these people can beat me in a strait out run, so I have to get by em any way I can. Aid stations are often much easier points to pass people than out on the trail, where have a tendency to feel a bit more competitive.

Late in the second loop people were starting to complain of dehydration and muscle cramping. The aid stations were hawking electrolytes, salt, and three kinds of energy/electrolyte supplements. There was no reason to be getting screwed up early in the race. But Mid-westerners and Texans are a stubborn lot it seems. A few guys had stripped off their shirts and were running bare chested. These were not guys like Gordon, or Ed, or Don, who are used to the sun, but kind of Michelin like fellows with pasty white winter skin and pinkish-blue hues. I wanted to stop them and scream at them to be careful, but they were ahead of me, and I figured it would not matter anyway. Nobody from Illinois wants to hear how we do it in Honolulu. These guys slowly began looking like New Englanders, the kind with big claws and hard shells you find in pots of boiling water; bugs.

The second lap ended and I was under nine hours. It was startling. I started to think I had a chance at 24! The numbers began to run though my mind. Three more fives and I had it. I could slow down I told myself and still do it. All I had to do was three fives! I think I said something to Marty when we were running together and he just wished me luck. Another guy, who was just past seventy, but looked 62 or so, laughed when I told him we could all make 24. I was running along preaching to the guys in my class about how it was a perfect day to break 24, but there were few takers on my message. I should have known at that point that I was forgetting that I had already pushed too hard, and had a lot farther to go, 55+ miles, to actually make 24. But for those twenty miles or so, I was a true believer.

I came in on the end of the third lap still feeling pretty good. I was starting to have some gut problems, I was having some nasty chaffing issues, I had a problem with my left heel that I knew had become a blister, but that was to be expected at 60 miles--at least that is what I told myself. It was already dark and I was moving a bit slow but I managed to get my shoes changed, to my Adidas Super Nova Trails, as I had a pretty blister from my Ascics, my lights in order, nutrition taken care of, and to lube myself heavily against the chaffing. It took longer than I had hoped, but 24 was still there as a goal. I pushed on. Now it was two just under five or so.

I had done the first 20 in 4:10, the second in 4:20, and the next 20 in just about 5:00. Then I had that long aid station stop. Hey I was thinking I’d still be done before I started and headed out on loop four needing to pull in another low four. I was still feeling good, but my body was beginning to show the wear. I pushed but I was slowing and there didn't seem to be much I could do to increase my pace. In the dark the tree roots seemed to come alive and reach up and grab at my shoes. I was tripping a good deal, stumbling, and occasionally getting those long kind-of-not-quite falls that sap one's energy and mark a funny colored toe nail.

All-in-all I did the forth lap well, but I had to add in the aid station stop and that blew the number well past five. I remember sitting there drinking an ensure playing with my gear and getting my lights ready. It came to me that pushing on at the pace I had been keeping was going to be a very difficult problem. If I had done fives to begin with, I might have been able to do a four plus. But to have done a couple of four pluses, and a couple of five pluses, meant I had wasted myself. There was nothing left in the tank. 24 was out of the question. Well, perhaps I thought to myself, a finish with twenty-four in it was possible. I calculated that out, and even that seemed to be a bit optimistic. But I left it on the table, and headed out on my last lap knowing that I was not going for 24, and that I needed to start watching myself a bit more closely. I can't say I gave up, but I did realize I was in the process of doing what I often caution other runners against. There were other hundreds to run, I needed to keep that in mind.

My pace was good through much of the final lap. That twenty-four something finish actually remained a possible for a long time. But it faded eventually and I was going for a twenty-five. I pushed on, but not with the typical 'last loop' madness I can usually muster. It just wasn't there. I was hanging on, watching my knees which were showing soreness. I had some serious chaffing, my guts were not good, my left foot was still sore from the blister, and some of the problems from that I had at HURT actually came back to haunt me. But I was making a fair time.

I'm not sure what happened at the Damn Road aid station on my return. I had maybe ten miles left, I was slow but doing a good walking pace. I thought I saw Mike Smith at the table, and I wanted to be cute and sneak by him. I just went to my drop bag, downed an ensure and headed out. I was pushing a bit, but everything seemed OK. Then suddenly for no apparent reason, at least if you discount the previous 90 miles of hard push, my left hamstring just tightened. It wasn't quite a pull, but it was suddenly very sore. At any other time I would have stopped, but with only ten miles left I knew I had to push on. Suddenly I was gimping along slowly. The pain was manageable but constant. I could put very little weight on my left leg without some severe pain. I put up with this for half an hour or so, making little distance. Then I took off one of the laces from my gaiter, wrapped my face cloth around my knee and tied it tight just above my knee. The pressure against my contacted hamstring seemed to help a bit. I was still gimping, but I making a better pace.

Somehow I think I took a wrong turn. I don't know where or how, or even if I did, but I never saw Mike, nor a few other runners that I had been moving along with, I was with a small group of people spread out over a half mile of road. It was that pre-dawn dimness when things are seen strangely. Perhaps with a bit of hallucinatory splendor at times. Anyway I kept looking for this left turn that never came. Not finding it I continued down the road. An endless road. Just gimping along at a slow pace. Time left me behind, telling me it would meet me back at the room. A few people passed me but for the most part I was alone on this trail I did not really recognize very well. Things moved in the brush, light flickered ahead and behind, the sky was turning gray, shadows that may have been other runners appeared here and there. Seconds seemed to suddenly turn into minutes. I limped along trying to regulate the pain levels.

I wasn't tearing anything, or dealing with a torn muscle. I could feel the tightness of the contraction all the way up to my groin. I could move, but I knew if I pushed too hard I would indeed tear the muscle or the tendon. So continuing with caution seemed to be the thing to do. As long as I was cautious I could finish. And at near 92+ miles there was going to have to be some really serious reason to stop me.

Finally, after much too long, I found myself back on a familiar path and the final aid station loomed ahead. I crossed the Park Road, and asked for some duct tape. I was lucky, they had some. I grabbed it and began to wrap my leg. All the volunteers could say to me was 'That is going to really hurt when you try and get it off!". "Well it really hurts now, so it is an even trade, I guess," was my reply. I pushed on. Hours of time evaporated. I kept shaking my head. I knew I had slowed down, I knew 24 was out of the question before I started the last twenty, but I could not understand where the 25th hour had gone. Suddenly I was looking at 26 hours on my watch! But a voice in the back of my head was laughing hysterically. "26+ hours you moron! When you ever going to do this again? Just finish and stop belly aching!"

I took my own advice and just pushed on without all the BS whimpering. I would finish, and the time would be the time.

I gimped on, the pain ebbing and flowing, my pace an inversion of the hamstring sensations. I actually passed some people, was passed by others, but kept pushing. I crossed the line at 26:28. Almost 2 hours faster than my previous PR, and likely my life long PR. I have no plans to go after Twenty-four again! Marty, Ed, and Carl. finished close behind me. We took a few pictures. Mike Smith finished forty minutes before me, and I still can not figure that out. I never spoke with Mike at the Damn Road, so I don't even know if that was him at the aid station table, or if it was anyone for that matter. My mind was just over the edge out there at 88+ miles and it was the time of seeing. I waited around for him before I finally asked and found he was all ready in and gone. I showered quickly and came back to the start to congratulate a few of the runners I had spent some time with. Then I limped back to the car and drove back to the motel. My thigh was sore for a couple of days, and I did a lot of massage on it to loosen it up. It slowed me down the following week at the Dry Rock Ridge Run, but that's another post. It still tells me it's there when I run hard.


The Rocky Racoon is a well run race. A fast race. It is a good one to consider for a first 100, or for a sub-twenty-four attempt. The race staff is wonderful. The support is very good, and the volunteers willing and helpful. I always felt at home. There were plenty of HURT alumni there. Mike Smith, Carl Gammon, Marty, Andy, Ed, were among the crowd I ran with. There were others in the fast gang who were there as well. I don’t know if there were any other HURT 09 finishers there, but I talked to a guy who had paced at HURT. He told me I was nuts to be out there. (So what's your point?)This is a Midwest annual event, the culminating run of a number of their Ultra series. There were over 200 Hundred Mile starters and as many 50 Milers. Lots of people. Lots of Texas good cheer and hospitality. Huntsville is an interesting town. A bit of a college place, well known for the gigantic penal institution, home of Sam Houston, dripping with a lot of that 'new money' and the high end communities to show for it, but still having a lot of rural life style running in its viens.

The terrain is rolling pine and deciduous forest, with the occasional palmetto palm tree. Lots of holly, and oak. It is pretty in a South Texas winter kind of way. The warm weather of the week made it quite pleasant. But beware! Huntsville Texas can have temperature variations of over 60 degrees in a day. Wake up to sub 30 and see above eighty by afternoon. The storms can roll in fast and nasty. My fun run can quickly become a nasty never ending treck along muddy, cold and wet trails.

I had lucked out, but I saw the medic to help
Unwind the roll of duct tape from my hamstring
The Nurse said Mikey looks like you met your match
But I said, 'good nurse it's only a scratch'
And I’ll be better,
I’ll be better Doc, and soon be able.

Then I fell back in my room
Only to find Gideon’s bible
Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt
To help with poor Mikey’s revival......


Rocky Raccoon in 26:28