My approach for the Rocky Raccoon 100 was fairly conflicted this year. I took December virtually “off” from running as a result of a calf injury and a knowledge that my body had been needing a substantial break for quite some time. The day after Christmas I started training again in earnest–despite a still touchy calf–but I knew that if I wanted to be in any kind of shape for Rocky that anything less than a month of training wasn’t going to cut it.
In addition to the late start, I never fully committed myself to acquiescing to the uniquely flat nature of Rocky’s course and instead defaulted into my usual training focus of amassing lots and lots of vertical. Bottom line, climbing 1400′/mile on snow and ice at 15min/mile pace (Bear Peak here in Boulder) isn’t very specific to the task of running 7:30 pace on flat terrain for hours on end. But, it is absolutely what I enjoy most and so I accept the trade-offs. Overall, though, I came into race week confident in my ability to run hard, break Eric Clifton’s 13:16:02 course record, and hopefully even take a good shot at ducking under 13 hours.
On to the race.
Lap 1: Within a couple hundred yards of the off Zach Gingerich disappeared into the dark and a substantial chase pack formed that included all of the other pre-race likely suspects: myself, Scott, Hal, Karl, Ian Sharman, Mike Wolfe, Mike Arnstein, and a few others. As we’re all pretty much friends, most of this lap consisted of playful banter and no real racing, of course. I remember having to stop to pee a couple of times and upon completing the task always being amused that most of the folks around me had taken the chance to do the same thing. Coming into the out-and-back section at the end of the first loop I was unsurprised to see that Zach had a 6 or 7min lead on us, but, as Hal noted, he was already looking slightly haggard for the effort, and then, less than 30 seconds out from the start/finish Ian came back at us and I assumed that we’d bring him back into the fold in short order. Obviously I was wrong about that. Anyways, we’d dispatched with 20 miles in 2:30, which was exactly what I’d planned on, but the effort was quite a bit more than I had hoped (considering that I had planned on sustaining that pace through at least 3 loops). It was already obvious to me that I wasn’t having an A+ day, but I was hoping it could still be an A-. As it would turn out, I would grade my overall running proficiency at a B for the day–totally average.
 (Crossing the entrance road at mile 15.6. Photo: Ryan Alfred.) Lap 2: The transition significantly whittled down our previously substantial group, and when Scott stopped for a trip to the port-a-john at the Entrance road crossing (23 mi) all that was left was me and the North Face duo: Hal and the Wolfeman. A couple miles later we were navigating one of the many ice-covered board-walk bridges on the route, when–due to conversation-induced lack of focus–I abruptly slid completely off the bridge and bit the dirt. I bounced up with no discernible damage, but within a few minutes my bad right knee–the one that hampered me for most of 2009 and 2010–started aching again for the first time since the Leadville 100 last summer. (Over the course of the rest of this loop my knee would worsen to where it would spontaneously give out on any downhills and I spent a lot of time trying to conceal a limp from Scott and Hal.)
A few miles later Scott caught back up to us but I soon visited the bushes for a bathroom stop of my own and then spent the remainder of the loop catching back up to Hal and Scott. When I finally caught them a mile or two from the end of the loop I continued my faster pace and only Hal followed. We hit 40 miles together having logged a 2:34 lap. Which I would’ve been fairly happy with except: A) instead of fading, Ian had laid down an impressive 2:25 to overtake Zach, and B) my knee had me at least vaguely contemplating dropping out.
Lap 3: Racing 100 miles is all about meeting intermediate goals, and the goal now was to just comfortably reach half-way. Hal was taking a little while to catch back up to me and I received a further boost by catching Zach very soon after leaving the 43mi aid station. Zach and I cruised together until we hit the tiny rollers on the front half of what I thought of as the “DamNation Loop” (the aid station at the beginning and end of the 6.2mi loop was called “DamNation”). However, shortly after dropping him for good, I was surprised to see Hal right on my tail. Persistent cuss, him. Thus began a ~43mi stretch of running where Hal and I were never more than a minute apart but I was always, always in front, if only by a step or two. Hal was content to mostly just sit back there and follow my lead. As is bound to happen, somewhere on this loop the overall trauma of running for 50+ miles accumulated to where the pain in my right knee was relatively not that significant anymore and I no longer had any thoughts about dropping out. And with a 2:37 lap I’d finally started eating back into the deficit I’d been carrying against my 2007 splits, but was chagrined to see that Ian had extended his lead to 18 minutes. I was certainly impressed, but experience told me that the real running in a 100 miler comes in the last 40 miles, so I still carried some hope.
 (Cruising through the entrance road aid mid-race. Photo: Lynnor Matheney) Lap 4: Whereas I’d been in some measure of low-level discomfort for at least 30 miles at this point, lap 4 is where the true suffering began. 100 mile races are crazy. At 60 miles I was hurting. A lot. And still had 40 miles to go. Forty miles. To conceive of this reality in the moment is nearly too much to bear. So, you don’t. You push it out of your mind and focus on the next aid station, the amount of time to the next gel, the extent of your lead (or utter lack thereof) over Mr. Hal Koerner. You struggle to stay in the moment.
But, this matter of staying in-the-moment is pretty tricky because after 60 miles the present generally ceases to be even remotely pleasant, in any usual sense of the word. And if I was somehow able to not think about just how much this all was hurting I was usually reminded instantly by the death-rattle-like noises and prolific curses coming from the odds-defying warrior less than ten steps behind me. At least I knew Hal was hurting, too. That much was clear. On this fourth lap I began thinking a lot less about Ian and a lot more about exactly where and how I was going to drop Hal on the 5th and final lap. I thought I had my spot picked to be those DamNation Loop rollers, but then when we hit the ~2mi section of road-like double track that followed said rollers Hal had managed to completely eradicate any gap I had created on the trails.
Hal: Cough. Wheeze. Extended whinny-like flapping of lips like a 5-year old does when attempting to imitate a horse. “Goddamnit, Tony.”
Me: Flashing of half-grimace, half-uber-wry smile over my shoulder. Thinking: Jesus H, what the F are you still doing here, Hal?!?! “I f’ing hate this road, Hal.”
Hal: “Yeah, I can tell you’re not liking it too much.”
Extended silence as we grunt up an ever-so-slight rise. A momentary retreat into our respective worlds of misery.
Hal: “Dude, you’re running a good pace.”
Me: Exasperated. Happy to be commiserating with someone, however. “I know, dude, we’re not running slow; Ian’s just killing it.”
Hal: “He has to blow up.”
Of course, the wished-for explosion did not occur. I was heartened at the end of the lap by the fact that our 10:28 accumulative time finally eclipsed my ghost-of-2007 (by 4min); I was not heartened by the fact that Ian now possessed a 28min lead nor by the fact that we still had another 20 miles to run.
Lap 5: Heading back out for the final loop, Hal and I crossed paths with a fresh-looking Karl over which we now held a 14min lead. Instead of being unthreatened by this, Hal’s immediate response was to declare that Karl was not going to beat us (I agreed) and then throw in a marked surge as if to emphasize his point. Astonishing. I don’t think it is possible to accurately relate the kind of resolve it takes to surge sharply 80+ miles into a 100 miler. The levels of discomfort inherent in such a move are incredible and simply have to be experienced first-hand in order to be understood. Despite aching knee and seriously seizing hamstrings I gamely followed and when Hal’s effort waned a short time later I simply went with my momentum and finally opened up a gap that I hoped would last. On long straightaways I would steal a glance back and see his blue singlet still bobbing in the twilight but I motivated myself by reminding myself that I would much rather have a one minute lead at this point than a minute deficit. Finally, it seemed to be working.
As the sun was dropping below the horizon, I reached DamNation for the final time (mile 92.4 or so) and just as I filled my bottle Hal came chugging into the aid station right behind me. No way. Almost unbelievable. The man just does not give up. I’d spent at least the last 20 miles going over various scenarios in my head as to how I would leave him but right there all was settled and I resolved to just put my head down and run as hard as I could all the way to the finish. Within minutes it was time for the headlamp and having my perspective reduced to a cone of light seemed to remove the previous curse that the road section had held for me. My substantially increased pace suddenly made previous goals (accumlative sub-8min pace, sub-Clifton) possible
 (There is nothing so beautiful as sitting down after racing 100 miles. Big crew of folks at the finish line tent including Ian (far left) and Hal (seated next to me). Photo: Shannon Farar-Griefer) again and I used these targets as motivation over the last five miles of the course and raced to the finish in 13:18:52 for a 7:59/mile average but still a couple minutes shy of Clifton’s previous standard. Hal finished only 8min later to add one of the sport’s fastest ever trail 100 mile finishes to his vast list of accomplishments.
Of course, Ian’s stunning 12:44:35 performance made any of that basically completely irrelevant. Despite being so soundly and squarely beaten, I am still largely satisfied with my effort Saturday. Ultra racing is mostly about doing the best one can with whatever hand one is dealt, even if that hand doesn’t necessarily hew to pre-formed, arbitrary expectations. Some days–Western States and White River last year come to mind–the act of running on trails is beautifully and absurdly easy. Other days–like Miwok last year and Rocky Raccoon this past weekend–it is mundanely, decidedly average. Ever since some time during the middle of the first lap on Saturday–well before Ian had disappeared into the distance–I knew I wasn’t 100% on top of my game, but the reason I can still recover with a sufficient measure of peace is because I am 100% sure that I ran as fast as I could on that day. Most race days I am able to find a groove where things are generally effortless (at least for a time) and the performance just comes to me; that never happened for me on Saturday.
 (Wolfeman and I attempting to deflate our penguin feet at the Houston airport. Photo: Jenny Uehisa.) Either way, with Rocky Raccoon now behind me I look forward with great anticipation to recovering and returning to my beloved hills for many a mountain-top view in preparation for some mercifully less-flat racing venues. Finally, I must express my appreciation for Jenny’s most efficient crewing and Joe Prusaitis’ hitch-free race directing.
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Tony, this is not just an honest and fair report. It is one of the most entertaining I have ever read. A great story!
Thanks for that
Tam
13:28 for 100 is nutso and 12:44 is just surreal! Stress + Recovery = Adaptation…running & racing outside of your comfort zone will make you stronger! That was one heck of a speed “workout” Tony. Inspiring stuff, thanks for sharing.
Great report! Thanks. Never having run anywhere near this far your words give me a glimmer of what it’s like. Hope the knee heals quickly.
[...] Krupicka got 2nd in the RR100 and still almost beat the course record with a 13:18 time. This is his race report. He has such a passive report as if it was just another day or another 100 miler to add to his [...]
Excellent report & race, to lay down that time with the training you had is pretty good. Can’t wait to see what you can do in the mountains! Good luck this year
Truly great running writing.
“I don’t think it is possible to accurately relate the kind of resolve it takes to surge sharply 80+ miles into a 100 miler. The levels of discomfort inherent in such a move are incredible and simply have to be experienced first-hand in order to be understood.”
That will either be the reason I never run 100 miles or exactly the reason I do make it.
Thanks for the inspiration, Tony.
Great report. Great writing. Especially found the comments regarding “staying in the moment” helpful and refreshing. Congratulations on a great race.
To run such an event so quickly and not be on an A+ day is awesome. Well done, as ever an inspiration to an aspiring occasional ultra marathon punter . Cheers and hope the feet swelling went down quickly…..
Great to read your excellent report. Sounds like an epic race between Hal and yourself – he was always a step behind you when I saw you go by and I half expected you to cross the finish together.
Nice report Anton! I may have looked fresh, but I wasn’t. And my last lap proved that. I”m gonna get Koerner next time for that comment!
When I’m in shape. Great to see all of you, just wish I could have made the photo at the end. Next time.
Great report and really fun to read! Nice race!
Tony,
We were particularly entertained as the race unfolded out at DamNation. If you were hurting, you certainly didn’t show it. Really interesting trying to look inside your respective heads as you came thru each of the 10 passes at DamNation… I took this picture early and thought you might enjoy it…
http://tinyurl.com/5ttqx78
Frost in your beard and the chase pack gathered round (Scott J directly behind you/hidden by you).
Anyway, great job!
Lynn B
DamNation Captain
That is really incredible-congratulations!
Tony,
Great report. I can totally hear Hal’s voice in your quoted banter. Hilarious. Recover well bro.
-Bronco
There was such an amazing energy on that course this weekend! Thank you for an experience that I will never forget. My first 100 was truly an event to remember! Happy recovery!
Hey Tony what shoes did you use for this race since it was a flatter race?
Congrats on a good race, sounds like a solid training day considering its not necessarily your type of terrain. Great race report too!
I appreciated the fact that you cheered me on (when you lapped me for the second time) even though I was just one of 300+ runners. When I got to mile 80, both my feet were completely covered in blisters and I was just ahead of the cutoffs. I wanted to quit… and yet, I wanted to finish… and completed my first 100M in 29:42. Now I need advice on how to avoid blisters (my problem is that I am 6’6″ and one foot is a 12.5AA and the other is 13.5AA).
THAT…was a great report. I’m currently a road runner, but the siren call of the trail beckons…especially when you make the pain sound like so much fun!
Congrats.
Nice write-up my man. Thanks for dragging me along to Texas and for letting me drag behind you for so long.
Baby beardicicles in Texas? Who would have thought! Guess your training paid off. You were prepared and trained for much worse.
Great report, Tony. This was my first ultra, not to mention first trail run and I think I will be ruined forever, because it was so fantastic. Watching you and Hal fly through was so amazing. You guys are my heroes. AWESOME!!! I hope you come back to Texas next year!
All–Thanks for the many kind comments.
Ian–Every time Hal and I passed someone and they made it clear they thought we were leading the race I just got too tired to correct them. But, your lead was so substantial that people didn’t even realize we were getting our asses kicked.
Karl–Hal and I were certain you were going to break 14hrs. Still a sick little time you threw down this weekend.
Browning! I know, dude, running with Hal is always entertaining.
Patrick–I wear the same shoes for a flat trail as I do a steep trail. The model I’m testing for NB right now (the 101 update) is incredibly versatile, too.
Emmett–Sorry, no useful blister advice. I don’t even wear socks…
[...] “As the sun was dropping below the horizon, I reached DamNation for the final time (mile 92.4 or so) and just as I filled my bottle Hal came chugging into the aid station right behind me. No way. Almost unbelievable. The man just does not give up.” by Anton Krupicka @ Running Times [...]
I ran my 1st 50mile at the Rocky Racoon on Saturday. Finished 63rd out of 196. I was thrilled with that. It was inspiring to see Tony, Hal, Scott, Karl and other top guys out there running. I’ve only been running for 2yrs now and hope to continue on further. My inspiration comes from guys like you Tony and your blogs. Love reading your stuff. Great race. Thanks for posting and being a inspiration. Shawn from New Orleans.
Excellent story! It was fun to watch/read it unfold via the webs, especially with the surprise of Ian burning it up. Thanks for including the banter between yourself and Hal…awesome.
Excellent race report Tony! Love your writing!
Congrats on the race and great report Tony! Did you by chance meet my cousin Brad Reed? He had the best race of his career to this point and ended up 5th for men. Looks like he could start putting up the pressure (hopefully!) over the next couple years.
Wonderful writing as always Anton! Get back to those hills. Although I do have a hypothesis for why you felt “average.” You were wearing a singlet! I don’t care how much frost was in your beard, wearing a shirt is not your thing.
I am glad to hear that 100s hurt even for the pros. One thing is for sure, I like ultrarunning being such a small field, because we are all stubborn enough to do them. Fantastic job out there, keep up the good work and good training.
Inspiring, Anton. I like your description of ‘staying in the moment’…maybe that could be the title of your book someday:)
Happy Trails
Mike K