I made my way from our luxury suites in Silverton (the very
cool Prospector Motel) to the high school gym around 530 a.m. I scarfed down a PB&J breakfast of
champions and stopped for a picture or two.
I arrived at the gym to check in amid a frenzy of activity: people
filling bottles, applying tape or body glide stuff, putting on socks and shoes,
and checking their trekking poles for proper balance.
I found my buddy John, also running and from Grand Junction,
and sat down in a corner to take it all in.
I wasn’t nervous; the “race” is too long and I’m all about going out
slow to conserve energy. I got ready all
the same, checking my poles, putting on socks and shoes, and getting my pack
stashed with food. Everyone asked me
what I was smearing on my feet and I explained it was “old-man a$$ cream,”
which is true: Calmoseptine, found in the elderly incontinence aisle of the
pharmacy. It’s also good for baby diaper
rash and comes pharmacist approved for many uses.
After getting ready we took some pictures: one of the three
Grand Junction locals running (John Constan and Hardrock legend Kirk Apt) and
another with TrailHeads Bean and Liz Bauer.
A few good luck kisses from Karie and outside we went for the great
informal start.
I jogged easily from the start waiting for my legs and lungs
to get acquainted to the thin mountain air.
We immediately started up a semi-steep incline to the Shrine road and I
could see the leaders, still jogging, up ahead.
It was neat to still see them, but they would soon be out of sight. I found Kirk and locked onto him. It was my goal to try and stay with him much
of the first half – I mean who better to run with than someone with 17 previous
Hardrock finishes? This proved difficult
as he was running faster than I really felt like going, so I held back and
enjoyed the wake-up call at 2 miles where we crossed the ridiculously low
Mineral Creek.
The first climb went well, but a little slow for me. It was difficult to find a nice rhythm and
good pace, but this was a long race, so going slow was fine. Once above treeline I enjoyed the warm
sunshine and views from the top. I found
myself trading places occasionally with Blake Wood, another Hardrock veteran
with 16 previous finishes. We descended
into the first aid, KT, got a quick bite of food, and pressed on. I caught John at this point and we set out
together. He was climbing too quickly
for me and I just kept to my pace.
My climbing legs felt really slow and lethargic, and I was
relinquished to a slow slog up any of the steeper sections, which were
plentiful. I was enjoying the vistas
still and some good running on the downhills.
Coming into both Chapman and Telluride I was able to jog most of the
downs and even set a good tempo on the less rocky sections.
I was eating well to this point: lots of solid foods, some
gels, and no salt for the first 30 miles to Telluride. My watch was set at 28 minute countdown
intervals whereupon I would eat something no matter how little. The first few hours went fast and when my
watch would beep I would happily eat and reset the timer. This became increasingly difficult as the
watch would beep and I would think, “already, I just ate something…..not
again,” after which I would force down something and press on. Certain foods lost their appeal, like peanuts
and peanut butter crackers, but ham and cheese and watermelon were holding up
well.
In Telluride it was great to see family and friends. I was feeling good, so I resolved to sit,
eat, and get back at it. I picked up a
light just in case and headed out again with John. He moved ahead on the uphill as usual and I
resolved my long, slow slog. I had
forgotten about steepness and relentlessness of this section. There are two level patches: one near some
mine buildings, and the other at Mendota saddle/ridge, where the trail dips
down (not enough to register on the course profile) on its way to
Virginius. At Krogers canteen I was
feeling tired, but some warm broth and Roch Horton’s good spirits motivated us
all. I remember his quote, “You guys got
this thing licked! Just keep eating,
drinking, and MOVING. Now get outta
here!” The top of the Virginius descent
is steep, rugged, and has several of these repeating steps that really took a
toll on me. After finally getting to
some semblance of a jeep road, I managed a jog/walk until Governers. I sat quick enough just to get some soup and
crackers, then continued on. After a bit
my energy returned and I managed a good pace for several miles down Camp Bird
Road to Ouray.
Arriving right at full darkness, I came into the aid, sat
down, and immediately was surrounded by a sea of people catering to my needs
and asking me questions. I couldn’t ask
for a better crew and friends, including great aid station conversation:
Kevin (my pacer): “You got tights.”
Me: “I’m normally fine with shorts.”
Kevin: “We’re going over 13,000ft at night.”
Me: [shrugging] “I’m ok.”
Wife: “You need tights, anybody got tights, I told you to
bring some…..blah, blah [I stopped listening here]”
Marty (another pacer for later): “I got tights, right here”
[He indicated he’s wearing them].
Voice from crowd: “Watcha got under there Marty?”
Marty proceeds to whip off his tights much to the delight of
the crowd amist whistles and hoots. It’s
all a fog for me, even though I feel ok.
(He had some colorful running shorts underneath).
I gather my night and cold stuff and Kevin and I head out
into the dark. It was great having Kevin
there, especially leaving the maze of Ouray.
He says, “just follow me” and my gaze locks onto my shoes. He knows how to pace and quickly engages me
in one sided conversation, only expecting an occasional grunt or uh-huh as we
climb up the Bear Creek trail.
I was a little disappointed to not see this in daylight, as
the drops are spectacular. I had to
settle for the headlight disappearing in the darkness down below and the sound
of rushing water rising up out of the impenetrable darkness. I seemed to climb a bit better here as the
steepness wasn’t so severe. Once about
halfway, the trail leveled a bit and I started talking a bit more as I felt
better. We arrived at Engineer, got some
broth, and took a look at the monster before us. Engineer pass, with little lights marching
straight up the mountainside to holy glory.
We left the aid and proceeded to slog up through the grass and
wildflowers in the dark.
Once atop the pass we were greeted with the lampkeeper, who
makes sure a lit lantern illuminates the top to give you an aiming point in the
dark. He had plenty of beer, whiskey,
and other specialties that we passed up, only hoping for a downhill to thicker
air. On the way down I started swerving
a bit as I got really sleepy, to which Kevin suggested I eat ANOTHER gel. I begrudgingly did so knowing a gel was what
I really needed but couldn’t have thought of at the time. We walked most of the rocky downhill to
Grouse, and could see the lights from afar but seemed and endless affair.
Arriving in Grouse early morning before sunup my crew again
met me with energized frenzy. I wasn’t
stomaching food so well and Gu packs were now eaten with bitter disdain for the
taste and feel. I picked up Marty as my
pacer for the Handies sections, which was truly going to be epic. On the climb out of Grouse I started having
serious concerns of not finishing. I did
not entertain thoughts of outright quitting, but had doubts about actually
getting over Handies in my current shape.
We trudged along and after Marty noticed my utter contempt for gels or
any other food, he had an idea. We mixed
a gel in about half a bottle of water.
This made them much more palatable to my bitter stomach and helped them
go down and stay down easier. Slowly,
with each passing mile, my stomach began to feel better. The sky started lightening with the early
glow of sunrise, and we crested American-Grouse pass to view the awesome
eminence of Handies laid out before us.
The sun was hidden directly behind this ominous mountain and we could
see tiny figures scaling its south ridge, slowly gaining its summit.
My spirits were lifted only a bit, as we still had a few
miles down just to start the climb. We
pressed on, taking on bits of Gu water every bit to get my strength and energy
up. Quickly we reached the bottom and
started up around Sloan lake. We reached
the saddle and started the steeper sections up the ridge. Now it seems shorter than I expected and with
my energy returning we charged the summit at a 1mph (or slower) pace. On the top we reveled in the achievement of
summiting a fourteener (my first and at mile 65!) and took a few pics. Then we were off down into Grizzly Gulch.
Marty had me short stepping a bit by shortening up my stride
on these steeper downhills to help reduce impact and pain in my quads. It worked well and we made quicker work of
the descent than I expected. Stopping
briefly in Burrows for watermelon and a snack, I was feeling better and no
longer harbored doubts about finishing, but I knew it would be a long day and
part of the night. We walked most of the
road as there wasn’t much downhill as I expected and running really hurt. At Sherman I bid Marty and his wacky
pink/orange/black/whatever other color crazy cool spandex shorts that only he
could rock goodbye and picked up my next pacer, Karah.
Starting up Cataract Gulch, we maintained a nice pace for
having gone 73 miles, and Karah was doing well at getting me to drink the Gu
cocktail often. This likely kept my
energy from never getting too low and I maintained a nice, even keel through
the rest of the race with never any more real lows. We enjoyed the scenery on the divide and
ambled down to Pole Creek aid station. I
got some noodles and broth that went down well and emptied out my shoes.
Leaving Pole Creek we really took in the views and open
space up to the pass. Some clouds were
occasionally blotting out the sun and sprinkled a few drops on us but did not
dampen our spirits, yet. I felt good
along this section and down to Maggie. I
got some potato soup this time that was very scrumptious and warmed my
body. I knew this next climb would be
tough, with a few steep straight up the mountain sections to 13,200 feet.
At the top I saw some nasty clouds rolling in and knew we
needed to crest the point and get down off Canby mountain before it set
in. We accomplished getting down to
Stony Pass in time, but when the bottom fell out it still wasn’t fun. I remarked to Karah that she was getting a
true Hardrock experience out here now!
We met a few others up ahead, and one pacer who was truly scared out of
her wits! The rain and sleet mixture blew
sideways, lightening flashed across the open meadow, and thunder roared over
our heads. We were soaked and freezing
within minutes, despite having rain jackets.
Ringo, why didn’t I bring a trash bag?
I could have hunkered down under a nice, black, trash bag shelter and
been dry. After a few minutes of
huddling together for warmth, which must not work with clothes on anyway, Karah
and I decided to go for it. After a few
minutes of thunderless silence, we bounded for the ridge. I aimed to get up and over quickly and my
breathing went from mellow to 100 yard sprint pace. My heart was jumping through my throat but my
legs were cooled from the chilly rain, charged with adrenaline, and bounded up
the hill with reckless abandon. At the
crest we traversed a bit, found the cairns, and flew down, stopping and falling
along the way as we searched for the next marker in the impenetrable fog. Luckily, I fell down the trail of fallen
grasses a few times and it helped us find the trail. Within minutes we were below the clouds and
could easily pick up the trail. I
gradually thawed and stopped shivering on the descent and continued jogging
most of the way where I could.
The downhill to Cunningham is steep and grassy, and me made
good time, coming into the aid before dark.
I was still feeling good and warmer than earlier, but I still needed dry
clothes. Karah had done a fantastic job
of getting me down in one piece and staying on course! It was time for her to get some much needed
rest. Check out her pacer report here. I picked up Rob Pizem for the
final trip to Silverton, and after a quick clothes change we were off. This last climb is brutal: steep and
relentless with no level “rest” patches.
I had to stop often and rest my legs for 30 seconds, a minute, whatever
it took. I occasionally looked up and
saw headlamps of runners ahead that seemed to climb up to heaven. It was only slightly discouraging at the
great altitude yet to be gained. Rob was
great at encouraging me onward and I tried to just focus on each
switchback. He told me his mental trick
was to pretend the switchbacks were level; it didn’t work for me.
We finally reached the top and marveled at seeing headlamps
far across the gulch to the top of the previous ridge from which I had
come. We turned off our lights for just
a minute and enjoyed the copious amounts of stars and space gases, or maybe
those were our gases, who knows. I
resolved to just walk most of the downhill back to town and just enjoy the rest
of the race. I didn’t want to really
tear myself up, although in retrospect, it likely would not have mattered much
at this point. The trail going down was
neat in the dark and we saw a few mine shafts and prospecting holes along the
way. Rob was great at filling in
conversation while I grunted along and focused on moving one foot at a
time.
The dirt road at the bottom felt very long and the beaver
trail afterwards was even longer!
Finally, lights from town came into view and we popped out at the ski
hut. I managed a jog when we hit the
road, but even a slow jog caused my breathing to accelerate to unsustainable
levels. So we walked some more until the
final two blocks home. I jogged in
amidst a sea of woots and cheers, kissed the rock, and enjoyed the finish.
Then I ate two hamburgers, the thought of which kept me
going those last 3 miles. I had pickles
on them and I never thought something simple like having pickles on my burger
could exhilarate so. It’s the simple
things that matter: finishing a 100, pickles…….
Thanks to all my crew, pacers, and friends cheering me
on. Had I managed to accomplish this
without you (which is very doubtful), it would not have meant so much. I’m glad I could share this running
experience with each and every one of you, no matter how small.
The post-race breakfast and celebration is the best I’ve
ever been to. You’ll have to experience
it for yourself, whether you run, crew, cheer, or volunteer, it’s the stuff of
champions.
