© Bob Butsic

A Rocket

Out of the Gate

Errol Jones has but one speed.

A The ever-positive Errol “Rocket” Jones volunteers at the Lone Oak aid station during the 2010 Firetrails 50 Mile.

Igniting the engine

i talented runner may drop Aj simply because there is no chance for a podium spot that day. Arunner with a good attitude will continue on to the finish line even though no official recognition may be forthcoming,” says Errol Jones. He feels that this sums up most endeavors in life and that many people might waste talent, but a positive attitude can push a person to accomplish things that mere talent wouldn’t account for.

Errol started running on a consistent basis in 1976. He moved to Oakland, California, from Chicago. He didn’t know anyone in town, so he spent several hours a day looking for work, and to lift his spirits and give himself something constructive to do, he would bang out a three-and-a-half- to seven-mile run.

His training took on a serious bent later that year after watching Frank Shorter battle Waldemar Cierpinski in the Montreal Olympic Marathon. He was so inspired by that epic battle, in fact, that the very next day he began training for his first marathon—the first annual Mayor Daley Marathon in his hometown of Chicago. “T thought that I knew something,” he says about his first 26.2-miler. “I thought that I was ready. I didn’t know enough and wasn’t ready. I got torched and ran 3:48-something. But I finished, and I learned a lot about distance and real training.”

Through consistently improving his training, he was able to get his marathon times down into the 2:30s but was never able to find the right octane to break into 2:29:59.

The blastoff

In the late 1970s, Errol became acquainted with the director of a sports care center who happened to be an ultramarathoner. The director had a poster of himself cresting Red Star Ridge near the 16-mile mark of the Western States 100. Errol was once again inspired but for races of a significantly longer nature. Now his rockets were really getting ready to fire.

Errol had no idea that races of 100 miles even existed, but he was intrigued with the idea of running numerous miles over mountain trails. The director of the sports-care center, always looking to convert even more runners to the ultra lifestyle, encouraged him to give ultrarunning a try. “He goaded me into believing that I might be a shoo-in to win an ultra with some good training because of my road speed—and the fact that there were only a few ultrarunners at that time that were posting 2:30 and 2:40 marathon times,” says Errol. His focus turned to more miles and to trail-running.

His first ultramarathon was the 1987 Western States 100, where he DNF’d. It was a valuable experience, however, as he learned a great deal about how to eat and drink early and often, something that ultrarunners were still experimenting with in those days. Of course, in true Rocket fashion, there was also the matter of pacing. Errol tends to go out too fast at the start. Even these many years later, he still grapples with the term “pacing.” In essence, he had attempted to transfer his marathon strategy over to ultras: he prefers to run near the front of the pack, which in ultras is not always the wise approach.

Kirk Boisseree, a friend and training partner of Errol’s for the last 20 years, recalls Errol being “ballistically fast at SOK

and 50-mile distances.” He also says, “He will often look out for the other guy, showing more interest in competing with the course and not necessarily [competing] with fellow runners.”

The orbit

Naturally, things have changed in major ways in ultras since Errol started. Today there are trail-specific running shoes, hydration packs, and energy gels. Back then, there were regular road racing shoes, Coke, Snickers, and Payday bars. Instead of microfiber shorts and singlets, there were nylon shorts and white dress shirts with holes cut into them to allow air to circulate. Aunt Jemima syrup bottles were used as hand-held water bottles, and fanny packs had not yet come along. Back then there were a handful of 100-milers; today there are near a hundred hundreds.

In his ruminating about the good old days, Errol also notes the changes in the demographics of his fellow ultrarunners. In the 1970s and ’80s, the age range was from the late 30s to the 50s. Today’s ultras have seen a major uptick in 20-somethings and even some teenagers. And at the other end of the age spectrum, there are more runners in their 60s and 70s—and certainly a lot more women.

Errol is sometimes astonished about the media coverage today’s ultras get. “Back then, nobody even knew we existed. Now there are ultrarunners on Leno and Letterman, and there is the occasional feature in the New York Times. Unheard of.

“But,” he says, “all in all, things have changed for the better.”

The Rocket has also done his share of pacing—but pacing others. For example, at the Leadville 100 in 2009, he paced friend Kirk Boisseree. Kirk remembers: “At the turnaround, after just missing the cutoff by five minutes, he begins pacing me. Heading up Hope Pass, I’m clearly a wreck, and I’m climbing too slow. He picks up some tree branches, shaping them into walking sticks. I used the sticks as best as I can as he cajoles me into giving it all I have. We reach the top and get into the Hope Pass aid station, well past the time that I need to make the next cutoff. My hopes of a Grand Slam are gone, and as I collapse in the aid station, simultaneously throwing up and crying, my Rocket just holds my shoulders, keeping me in touch with reality. He’s the best friend I could ever have, either at 12,000 feet or at sea level.”

The flight adjustments

The Rocket’s training has changed, also.

Back in the day, he ran seven days a week, sometimes two runs in a day. He put in five to 10 miles a day. Monday through Friday, he ran on the roads simply because it was convenient. Then, on weekends, he would head for the trails, his big run on Saturday, where he would run 25 to 30 miles, sometimes even 40, followed

by a Sunday run of 15 to 18 miles. Sometimes, getting ready for a big race, he would run weekend back-to-back runs of 30 to 40 miles. Volume was everything.

Today, he is more likely to try to run seven days a week, with each run being three to seven miles and sometimes with a weekday trail run of 12 to 15 miles. Saturdays are still his big-run days, when he will put in 25 to 40 miles on trails. Sunday’s workout now depends on how well he has recovered from Saturday and is typically three to 14 miles. It also hinges on “what time and what team is playing the first NFL game of the day.”

His strategy has matured over the years. He does some speed work but not much. He no longer attempts to run all of the hills, either in training or racing; instead, he tries to power-walk uphills and does tempo runs on downhills and flats.

He has even gone so far as to practice eating and drinking during training runs so that he can translate that better to race situations, something he seldom did 25 years ago. “If he would just hydrate better, he’d perform better. He lets his ego get in the way of his body’s ability to perform,” says Boisseree. Errol feels that his major change has been psychological: he no longer allows himself to get too stressed out over the whole process. “It’s no longer important for me to be ahead of anyone, and I’m not dying to post any particular time. I simply want to run as fast as I can without doing myself irreparable harm.”

The Rocket cruises through the rugged terrain of the Lake Sonoma 50.

Close calls

The Rocket looks back at his experiences at Western States and considers 1991 and 1994 memorable: the former was the first time he managed to finish the 100 miles, and the latter was the first time he earned a silver buckle. He also managed, in 1998, to do the Grand Slam: Western, Vermont, Leadville, and Wasatch.

He even took a crack at the Badwater 135 back in 1996 but once again went out too fast while failing to eat and drink properly. But after he had four hours of recovery at Stovepipe Wells, his crew, which included legendary ultrarunner Ann Trason and UltraRunning Magazine publisher John Medinger, managed to get him back into the fray, and he finished fifth overall.

Why “the Rocket?”

And how about that nickname? How and when did it get attached to him? It originated with a friend of his, whom he calls NoMiles. One day Errol and NoMiles were bantering back and forth after one of their runs. NoMiles was asked how he met Errol, and he responded that he would frequently see Errol “rocketing” around the Skyline Gate area in the hills above Oakland, so the tag stuck.

An age-old friend of the Rocket, Medinger has reams of stories about Errol. One occurred at the Cal 50 in 1995. John relates it: “The Rocket did his typical “go out fast thing’ and was running with Mo Bartley when they missed a turn and ran nearly a half hour off the course before realizing their mistake. They backtracked to the missed turn and got back on course. At this point, Errol decided to pick it up in an attempt to make up the lost time. And he decided to make it up all at once. He later told me he thought he would just catch up to me, forgetting

© UltraRunning Magazine/John Medinger

perhaps that he normally beat me by 20 or 30 minutes and he was off course for nearly an hour.

“Predictably, about halfway through the 50 miles, the extra effort started to take its toll. Soon thereafter, the wheels completely came off. Most marathoners know how ugly things can get late in the race when you’re having a bad day. Imagine that horrible 23rd-mile feeling and still having 27 miles to go. Herman Cohen, a veteran back-of-the-packer, tells it like this: “So I’m shuffling along the trail late in the race, enjoying the day and trying to psyche myself up for the last big climb, when I look ahead and see this guy stumbling down the trail. It’s Errol, barely moving. ‘Rocket!’ I say out loud and pump my fist as I slide past him, ‘Yesssss!’ Out of the 80 or so runners, instead of finishing about 10th or 12th as he normally would, I believe he finished behind all but two of them. On the drive back to Oakland, I thought he’d be in a foul mood. Not so. ‘Look at the bright side,’ he said, ‘I made everyone’s day.’”

Happy in flight

“In my early days, I would charge hard right from the start,” Errol remembers. “And then I’d just cruise or hang on to the finish.” Others also remember his charge-hard-at-the-start strategy. Hollis Lenderking first met the Rocket around mile 25 of the 1989 Ohlone Wilderness 50K. Hollis remembers Errol was “running in the fashion by which he would come to be known—that is, the crash-and-burn phase following his rocketish first half.”

Today Errol runs more tactically, not intent on running from the front. In fact, he has flip-flopped his whole approach. Now he is more likely to charge hard in the final miles of a race, when there is less to lose if he blows up. He is also more likely to study a course these days, trying to figure out how and where to incorporate his strengths while minimizing his weaknesses. He is also more prone to studying weather conditions.