First Ultra – ’94 Corolla Rocky Rumba (July 2021)

Before you search this event, it does not exist! I am a fraud, or at least a frugal fraud at that.

After living by the mountains in San Luis Obispo, I was introduced to the sport of ultra running via a podcast I heard (Mr. Rich Roll). It planted a seed in me that stayed with me for a few years before I even attempted an ultra. I loved the gorgeous mountains, the call of nature, and the mindfulness of one step after the other.

(Ironically, although I fell in love with ultra running there, I have never actually ran a race in San Luis Obispo).

My first ultra distance was ran over the fourth of July in 2021. I picked this date out for a very special reason. My wife would be out of town visiting her family so I didn’t want to panic her because I kept this under wraps. Note to future spouses, not always the best idea!

The goal laid out for the race was to cover 50 miles, walking if necessary. And it was necessary! The route covered four to eight mile loops from our apartment to my Corolla parked along a loop in Austin, Texas. Hence the involvement of my ’94 Corolla, Rocky, the name of the event was born.

(Unofficial sponsor, Toyota Corolla)

The night before the big day, I stopped by the grocery store and determined I needed a lot of calories. This took the form of peanut butter sandwiches, oranges, apples, bananas, pretzels, a pizza, and chicken to throw in the crockpot. There was no evidence that this was a well thought out nutrition plan. The chicken idea came from my Mom who had made it the night before and shared the recipe with me and it sounded good from a couch point of view.

Race Day, Fourth of July, Happy Birthday America!

I began that morning to an alarm at 3:00 a.m. and it didn’t take long for the first daily regret of many more to come to sink it. Why did I set the alarm that early?? No one even really knew I was doing this so I still had an out!

The unofficial start time would be 4 a.m. Due to living in Texas in the heat of the summer (hook ’em) anytime away from the sun would pay dividends the rest of the day. Especially as a Redhead.

Weather wise it wasn’t too shabby. 4 a.m. showed 75 degrees and humid which thankfully was about 35 degrees cooler than midday. It’s about appreciating the little things. By noon it would get to be over 100 degrees but that was a future Paul problem.

Breakfast was the standard meal of any runner champion. Bananas, coffee, slice of toast, and a certain brand of cereal that one would describe as greeeeaaaaat! Even though consuming milk before running had done rough things in the past to me, I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

Before I knew it, 4 a.m. rolled around and I grabbed my gear to prepare for who knows what would happen! I laid out several running shorts and shirts of all brands (still no sponsors) and picked out my favorite. As I went down the stairs of our apartment, it was game time!

BOOM! Went the clock in my head. Really the only sound that left me was a grunt as my knee did its initial creaks and a groan as my body accepted that we were no longer in bed at 4 a.m. I hit the start button on my $6 watch (now around $9 with inflation) and smiled as the initial miles began to click by.

I had no idea what to do for pacing and I went through the first few miles around 9:30 per mile pace. The only pacing I knew was that I would be a few hours off the world record and that at some point, my body would make me go slower if I wanted to or not.

After four miles in, I turned around in my first loop to hit up the Rocky aid station. Everything in the body was working and my goal was to get in half a sandwich per hour with some pretzels or fruit. My reasoning, I was just one hungry fella and eating is one of the reasons I run. Additionally, I read that you burn at least a few hundred calories per hour during an ultra marathon and based off the couple of marathons I had run before, it would be needed.

When I came up to the 8 mile mark, my body surprisingly felt sharp and fresh. I took my first walking break to get a sandwich in at that point and a handful of pretzels. I planned to walk about one mile while eating to make sure the food stayed down. Abs certainly help people not puke and due to my current gym ab routine of:

Nothing

My flabs of steel would not be any help.

Following over an hour completed and 8 miles behind, I looked forward to hitting 10 miles and beginning the double digit journey. My math in my brain told me 80% to go which didn’t sound too imitating. I could do this! Or at least attempt this.

10 miles passed and led to another half a sandwich with an apple at mile 12. I began walking with a banana following the sandwich and apple and my legs weren’t as happy as they once were. There felt a big change between 10 to 12 miles and I accepted that it was time to grind in a couple slow miles and keep the ball rolling.

At the half marathon mark, I officially entered my first low and the remaining distance made me feel how most normal people feel about ultra running. Why would I do this? Why didn’t I train properly? I wonder how many hours are left of the chicken crockpot? 8 hours was the answer for the last one.

I figured all I could do was put the head down and continue on. I had passed about two hours at this point and knew that I could just keep going one step at a time. Around mile 17, the sun started poking out, burning my skin, and giving me another fresh positive attitude that all was somewhat well.

Good morning Austin! It’s not often that you see a Redhead smile at the sun but I felt my smile grow to the size of Texas as my body attempted to photosynthesize.

Praying that the momentum would continue, I began an 8 mile loop towards downtown Austin. In my head, I was feeling pretty good knowing I hit cruised through 20 miles still alive. Due to all these great feelings hitting me, it was a perfect time for a slice of humble pie.

I don’t have a problem with other runners passing me on a trail during a workout, easy run, or even during the ’94 Corolla Rocky Rumba. When I got to the trail, a local cross country team cruised by me as well as numerous other runners getting in a holiday jog. Whether someone was running with a stroller, a dog, or even a hula hoop, my attitude couldn’t be more encouraging.

Suddenly though, I felt someone on my shoulder and I turned as a senior went past me. Good for him I thought! Hopefully I would be able to be like that at his age. Then I noticed. He was WALKING! WHAT. Man, he just power walked by me and I could feel his disappointment in someone fifty years his junior not being able to keep up. What made matters worse, even though I was technically running, I tried to speed up to at least keep pace with him.

It didn’t work. That man left me in the dust. I didn’t want to let him know how far I was going because I was worried he was going even further. So I did what any proud runner would do. I put my head down, tucked my hypothetical tail between my legs, and pretended to tie my shoes before finding a different route home.

Luckily, the marathon mark meant another highlight into the ultra event. It was officially the farthest I had ever run and it also meant, pizza time! This part of the event was sponsored by the 99 cent pizza at Walmart because it cost the cheapest for a cheese and I am not against a little bit of cardboard in my bite.

As I ate my pizza, I pushed away thoughts of only being around halfway done. I was hoping the calories could get me up to 80 year old power walking pace and after a change of clothes and a dose of SPF 50, I was back at it.

At mile 31, a return to the pain cave beckoned me. The heat and the hours of running at that point, around 5 hours, started taking its toll and it was time to pay my due. My first big walking stretch had begun and all I could hope was to make it from one spot of shade to the next. Texas had cranked up the oven to the 90s and my body felt every degree.

Walking those next couple miles continued to show me that yes, the knees can always feel worse and yes, chafing occurs wherever it wants to occur. I told myself, it is just one step that needs to be done at a time, one at a time. Around 35 miles, the pain began to subside a little bit to somewhat manageable and my legs allowed running (not quite power walking pace) to resume.

Some sandwiches later with at least a jar of peanut butter in my system, I started to think finishing was possible. The main reason was that the pizza stayed in my system and I figured my body could be distracted by that to not send me too many pain signals. The other was the sunk fallacy cost of that I had invested too much time in this dang thing to stop. The third was that I mentioned to my wife I was doing 50 miles and had to somewhat act over text and call that I was still in one piece (technically true).

As another hour passed by without gaining speed, I knew that Texas heat would be the winner over the battle vs. Paul and I decided the last ten miles would be at our apartment gym treadmill. I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping for a break if the treadmill was taken by someone else. Much to my fortunate and unfortunate luck, my fellow neighbors saved it for me. Thanks, I kinda guess.

Once I hit 40 miles, my body decided it would try one last attempt to stop me. Boy did it give a good attempt. It wasn’t like I was moving fast, my legs just wanted to be done. Even though there was only 10 miles to go, it felt as if I did not have the finish line in my sights.

The last leg began the final battle between my legs and my mind. My legs were right that it was painful. My legs were right that it would feel good to stop. My mind decided that it had to keep going. All I could do was accept my fate and keep chugging away and accept my fate.

Once I finally accepted my future, my legs didn’t hurt as bad. They still hurt pretty bad for someone of my pain tolerance (I’m on the lower end) but something came over me. It was an overwhelming feeling that I would finish this endeavor. It felt as if my mind entered a whole new level of clarity of knowing how to overcome pain at a deeper level.

As the final miles ticked by, I was able to cruise towards the finish line. In the final 30 minutes, I put on a podcast by Rich Roll featuring David Goggins who finished telling a story of completing a 240 mile endurance event. Welp, there is always bigger fish in the sea.

Finishing the event, all I could feel was comfort and quite a lot of sweat. There was no fanfare but it was a pretty good feeling and an award enough to not have to take another step.

My final time was 9 hours and four minutes on the dot. Most elite runners attempt to negative split their race. That means running the second half faster than the first. I was not close to that mark at all but I officially was an ultra runner!

And as a little reward, I still got to go home to enjoy the chicken in the crockpot. Turned out I dried it out because I ran slower than expected. Oh well.