"Sorry Dude" - My Rocky Hill Ranch Race Report

There is one goal I have at every race: Do not die.

It is a good goal to have for obvious reasons and most of the time if you ask me what my goal is before a race that is what I am going to tell you. But I also like to arbitrarily set some sort of time goal for myself. There is really no rhyme or reason to these goals. It is like there are number floating around in the air and I reach up and whatever I grab is my goal. For Sunmart I had a dream goal of Sub-6hrs. How did I come up with that? Honestly. I have no clue. I finished in 5:57. Bandera was half that distance so I figured I would go for half the time - 3hrs. I finished around 2:58 (or something). So, I reached up into the air a couple weeks ago, swirled around the numbers and pulled out a goal for Saturday - under 2:30. OK. Maybe it wasnt totally arbitrary. I figured 15 miles times 10 min per mi equals 2:30 and that sounded difficult but not entirely impossible. I would only learn later on that my math was wrong as a 25K is 15.53 miles. But shit. I had set a goal. And (the worst part) I had announced it.

I have never raced an endurance event (and yes to me 25K is endurance - I race Du which is generally 2 5Ks). And I had never raced a trail race. Saturday I was racing. That seemed wrong in many ways but also very very right.

We talked about the race on the way out - how Mike's coach had told him that it was a really fun course that made you want to go fast. Too fast for your own good. And how no one runs up Fat Chucks and the first mile of bigger hills - excepts those punks you will pass later on. I have done Dirty Du out there - so I knew the beast that is Fat Chuck's Demise and I knew the course was not flat. This was going to be fun.

The race started and off we went. It was a little congested at the start. I wanted to pass a few people. But I also didn't want to get too pumped up early on. So I settled in and ran on some dude's heels for a couple minutes. We got to the hill before Fat Chucks and everyone started walking. Urgh. I knew that this would happen. But I am kind of a freak about not walking in races. I know that at some point in my journey to 100 miles I will start walking regularly in races. But this was the kiddie distance and I didn't want to walk. I had no choice up the first little climb but finally passed the few people who were holding me back. I ran up Fat Chuck's and all I could think was "Am I going to be one of those punks people pass later on?" But I have run that stupid hill 4 times and I was not about to start walking it now. That is how I roll. It may not be smart. There are a lot of things that are not smart about me. And I didn't end up being a punk.

After the first mile or so I settled into a pace that I thought was probably faster than I needed to go. There was one guy behind me on my heels (turned out his name was Clay, from Alice, a BQ marathon runner, this was his first trail run ever). I would close in on a guy and tell myself "Don't pass him. You dont want this guy to pass you later and think you went out too fast". Then inevitably I would pass him and wonder if I would regret it later on.

Clay and I ran together into the first water stop. Ate a potatoe. Drank a bit of coke and took off. At this point two other runners joined our little group. They were chatting quite a bit which was nice because it took my mind off the running. I was leading our little group and wondering at what point in the very near future would I bonk. I would go uphill and think "what are you doing? You are running too fast? You are going to bonk. You cant hold this pace. Just stop". But then I would hit the downhill and tell myself "Just run your own race. You are running your own race. They can pass you. You are fine." There are a LOT of ups and downs on this course. And I had these conversations with myself for a very long time. At one point the other guy in our group mentioned to the girl she should speak with the Leadville RD about something because she had "won it a couple times before" (For those of you who don't know Leadville is a 100miler in CO). I was really wondering who I thought I was running with this girl. They finally passed us after about 5 miles.

Coming into the 2nd aid station I was feeling pretty good. Glad to have Clay riding my heels. I knew he was pressing me. My 2:30 goal was attainable but I was going to have to continue to press it for the last 5 miles to do it. Now....here is where I basically fucked myself....I saw Jen and Papa manning the aid station. Got to chatting with them a bit. Ate two potatoes and two cokes. And took a picture. In the meantime, my new friend Clay had taken off. So not only did I lose at least a minute there but I lost my rabbit. I knew I could probably keep up with him the last few miles but catching him was not going to happen.

So I was off alone for my last 5ish miles. I had saved my iPod till now because I had forgotten to charge it and had no clue how much battery was left. Figured it was now or never so I put it on. The Macarena was playing. Sweet. That song is super dorky and all. But the dork factor of it always makes me smile. It was just what I needed. Maybe it was that I was tired but I swear the next 3 miles were tough as shit. Long jeep roads that went straight up slowly. More hills. Some hills. I think there were some hills. Not sure. But I kept telling myself I could do it. Oh yeah. And I kept hitting repeat on the Macarena.

Without about 15 minutes to go I passed two dudes. Sweet. Then I saw another guy up ahead - actually at first I thought he was a woman. I could not let a woman beat me by a distance I could see. So I told myself 'ABC' you gotta catch her. By the time I figured out she was a he I had put in so much effort to catch him that I could not give up. I came around a corner to find he had stopped to stretch. Sweet. I passed him. "Keep it up man" I said. Inside I said "Ha ha... sucks to be you chump". I thought I only had about 4 minutes to go when I saw a real woman. I am still not sure how it was possible she was ahead of me - she was barely moving (maybe she was a punk who went out to fast). I literally blew past her. And then decided that I had to give my final kick to make my goal. I kicked. HARD. And WTF? No finish. I swear I damn near sprinted for almost 2 minutes. Then my clock ticked past 2:30. And I knew I could not make my goal. This is the point that I realized I was running further than 15 miles and tried to make excuses for not making my goal. That kick nearly killed me and I was just about done mentally when I saw that the finish was near.

The He-She I passed early was right on my heels. I was not about to let that ass clown take me down right at the end. I was running good. And started to see the people. I rounded the corner to cheers and hauled ass like I have never hauled ass before to make sure he-she didn't catch me. I doubled over to catch my breath. The applause stopped. And my rabbit crossed the finish line.

It got quiet.

I looked up and him and said "Sorry Dude" and the whole crowd erupted in laughter. Well...everyone except him. I didn't think it was that funny. But even as I later picked up my second place award the lady at the table said "You are the sorry dude girl" and chuckled.

So...there you have it. I raced. I didn't hit my goal. But I did place second female (out of 36) and 17th overall (out of 96). I had a blast. And I almost hate to admit this... I listened to the Macarena over and over that whole last stretch - 48 minutes and 57 seconds. Then I made Mike listen to it as we dranked some beers to celebrate the day.

Carry on.