It doesn’t have to be fun to be fun:
The HARDROCK 100 is a mountain run that passes through some of the most beautiful and rugged mountains in the world; it connects the four major mining centres of the San Juan Mountains: Silverton, Lake City, Ouray, and Telluride, whilst staying as much as possible on trails and abandoned roads that were originally created by the miners, which gives the participant the maximum feeling of wilderness.
Throughout the course, elevation changes range from a high of 14,048' to a low of 7680'. The total vertical climb and descent, accumulated while crossing thirteen ridges over 12000' in elevation, is about 66,000 feet. Much of the route is at elevations above tree line… this is a dangerous course! In addition to trail running, you will do some mild rock climbing (hands required), wade ice cold streams, struggle through snow (which at night and in the early morning will be rock hard and slick but during the heat of the day will be so soft you can sink to your knees and above), cross cliffs where a fall could send you 300 feet straight down, use fixed ropes as handrails, and be expected to negotiate the course with or without markers…mountaineering, wilderness survival and navigation skills are as important in this event as your endurance. We expect the individual runners to have enough knowledge about the course that they can follow it without markers. (From the 2008 Hardrock 100 Runners Manual, www.hardrock100.com)
The course profile is backwards as they change direction each year, this is 2011.
I knew this would be a tough challenge and I knew I should aim to get ‘acclimated’ as the yanks say or acclimatised as we Brits would say. Arriving in Durango after 3 flights and a very long day, breathing was noticeably harder and for a course notorious for absurdly steep trails, acclimating would make all the difference. The aim was always just to finish, to “Kiss the Hardrock”. Secondary to that, I really hoped I would be able to finish in around 36 hours or before the sun set on the second night. Most of all I was hoping to enjoy the stunning San Juan Mountains.
This is one of the lauded races around and yet only 515 separate people had previously finished this race over the last 19 years.
The ten days or so of trail marking were essential and my confidence was high as I had seen half of the course including the last 20 miles. Each morning we were up early with a coffee and enjoying the stunning views and mountain air. I stayed in the best B&B in town which had a Jacuzzi and they served red wine and cheese at 1700 before dinner, how very civilised. The hosts Lisa and Bill looked after Brian (a fellow first time hardrocker) and myself and we were included in their family celebration on 4th July and various meals. We were made to feel very welcome. Having wifi meant I could face time my supportive but slightly concerned girlfriend Azusa most days, which helped to keep us both sane. She was studying for her vet degree and couldn’t afford the time to join me in the US (next time maybe).
Before we knew it, registration day arrived with all of the famous ultra runners (if that is not a misnomer) It was great seeing every one and the whole race took on a real family feel and feeling of a shared goal and experience. Then it was the final drop bag packing and pasta dinner where I bumped into Warren from California who I had run the Namibia desert challenge with. A great guy who had not really had a chance to acclimatise having only arrived the night before and slept terribly due to the altitude.
I had my final face time call with Azusa and suddenly there was less than 8 hours before the start. I suddenly felt alone and proceeded to toss and turn most of the night.
The race started bright an early at 0600 on the Friday morning. I had walked over to the final registration (this has to be completed between 0550 – 0545) on race morning or your place will be given to one of those on the waiting list who are kitted up ready and waiting for the inevitable no show. I have no idea how you mentally prepare to be told with 10 minutes warning you are going to be running for the next 48 hours). I had walked over with Jonathan Basham (or JB) who is a legend being one of 12 people to have completed the Barkley a couple of years ago.
With a countdown from 9 we were off into the sunny fresh mountain morning. We set off at a good pace for at least the first 100m before walking the first incline. I had worn a worn out pair of trainers from the start and carried a new pair with me to change into after the first river crossing a couple of miles in which was very low this year. From there the only way was up. We were greeted with amazing views of Putnam and the race slowly started to open up. Vast vistas began to open up before us as we climbed and you could see across the valleys the course unfold and the wild animals alerted to our presence by the fastest runners.
Climbing into Putnam basin
This was also the only race I have ever considered using poles (Disclaimer: I did use them briefly on the ONER but only to practise!). They were definitely a bonus with that amount of vert but they seriously reduce the street cred.
I changed shoes and socks at the first checkpoint right after another stream crossing and headed up towards the stunning Grant Swamp pass at what felt like a snail’s pace. Reaching the top the view was stunning and I remembered to carry a couple of small stones to the top, which I laid at Joel Zuckers memorial to commemorate two friends I had recently lost. From there the route was straight down. The only way to do this was to dive over the edge and use a technique that was a cross between running and skiing down this almost vertical chute. Great fun.
Reaching the bottom my feet felt sore and upon viewing I was horrified to see that they were soft and wrinkled like being in a bath for 8 hours and blistering already. My heart sank as I still had circa 90 miles to go...Crap. Perfect race plan went straight out the window. Now it was just a case of looking after my feet.
The volunteers at Chapman aid stain were amazing, but the flies were like clouds and were horrific; they would not leave us and plagued the climb up the much feared Oscars pass until we hit tree line.
The ‘trail’up to Oscars Pass.
As we headed over the pass towards Telluride I must have dropped my hat and spare socks... crap again. Fortunately one kind runner had picked them up and reunited me with them later on. The heavens opened most of the way down into Telluride and past the magnificent Bridaveil falls. I was slowly heading backwards through the field at this point but didn’t have the zip I needed to go any faster.
I had been running with a Canadian friend, Stuart, down to Telluride, but I was starting to lack energy as I hit Telluride and things were not looking great but I tried to keep focused and didn’t consider anything but the next aid station.
Heading towards out of Telluride, any nerves were starting to settle as we knocked off the first 25% of the race. In the rain we climbed slowly towards Virginus, which never seemed to get any closer. Brian later saw a bear on this part of the course. By the time I hit the notch in the ridgeline that housed Krogers canteen aid station I felt shattered. Looking over the ridge, the aid stations volunteers had helpfully reminded us how pitiful our recent efforts had been and the scale of the task ahead... Hmmm thanks...
Much has been said about how dangerous and terrifying Virginius was and prior to race day we wanted to see it first-hand. During the trail marking Brian, Stuart and I had missed everyone else and attempted to find the route ourselves. After getting lost before we arrived at the trail head and getting the 4x4 stuck on a rock we proceeded to climb up toward what we thought was Virginius (we were about 500m out) we ended up climbing a precarious route and about 20m from the top we bottled it and decided that it was simply too dangerous to proceed, the weather was coming in and every time we dislodged rock it fell for about 200m. We figured if we had to do this we would do it in the race once and once only.
Near the ridgeline, but miles away from the correct trail...
Later when we finally found the correct route it felt like a complete breeze.
Looking up towards the notch where Krogers canteen aid station is perched.
At this point I was working hard but getting nowhere and was feeling very breathless and it felt like more than just the altitude. Blake Wood another Barkley finisher and legend flew past, whilst laughing, joking and taking photos... Now it was all downhill to Ouray to meet my pacers.
Finding a pacer online before the race who asked if he could bring some friends was a great boost for me and reassuring for Azusa and my parents who regard these runs as madness. I ended up with three pacers and a crew which was incredible and a real physiological boost. Once I met the pacers in Ouray I knew that short of a broken leg nothing would stop me from finishing. I couldn’t wuss out or capitulate in front of strangers who had kindly given up their weekend to come and support me and as the only Brit in the race I had some national pride to preserve.
By now I was already a couple of hours down on my ideal pace but I knew that as long as I kept RFM I would finish...probably, as long as my feet or body didn’t give out first.
My pacers, Jon, Jo and Cody already had all of the kit in my drop bag laid out and ready to go. Great I will just change my shoes and socks, sort out head torch etc and we are off. What do you mean I don’t have a change of shoes here...Idiot. Another lesson in how not to plan a race. Oh well play the board as it is, not how you want it to be.
Getting to Ouray before dark (although later than planned) was a massive boost. It felt like I had turned a corner and was no longer running away from the start, but towards the finish, home, family and Azusa. So with barley noticeable renewed sense of vigour I (slow) power walked out of town.
Whilst I agree with Karl Meltzer regarding pacers, I think at races like HR100 they are a welcome safety measure. It is very easy to go of course here although this year it was well marked. JB managed to run an extra 10 miles and still finished in circa 30 hours...Legend.
Here is a picture of the trail from Bear Creek to Engineer. Circa 300m drop offs. See if you can see the person on the trail to appreciate the scale. We ran this in the dark.
Oh well onwards and upwards for the next 4.5 hours to the top of Engineer as it began to get dark. We stopped by the fire ant the aid station near the top but I refused to sit down as I knew how hard it would be to move again, as it was starting to feel very cold after the heat and humidity of Ouray (the courses low point).
I felt lethargic, slow and breathless the rest of the way and even heading over the top of Engineer onto the jeep road which I had hoped to run, there was just no way. The jeep road was very even, my stomach was playing up and my feet felt very sore again. All in all I was fine to keep up a fast walk, but a jog was out of the question. Cody was very patient and made sure I was eating and drinking the whole time. I was slowly haemorrhaging my finish time but the cut offs were never an issue.
I was feeling rough at 0300 by the time we hit the aid station at the base of handies (the highest point on the course). Fortunately a toilet break (in a real toilet no less) a change of footwear and some cheese pulled me round. Here I also changed pacers and Jon (4th at the Bear 100miler) was very diligent in ensuring I was fuelled from then on. It was intimidating climbing into the blackness and you could feel but not see the mountains around us. Once over the first pass it was down again before the final climb to the peak. We summated at dawn 0600 (24hours in). I felt awake, generally good, blessed to be in such an awesome place and able to enjoy the views but lacking in energy, oxygen and any pace beyond a power hike.
Top of Handies Peak 24 hours in.
I pushed from my mind the fact that the leaders would be 30 miles ahead and nearing the finish...RFM.
From here it was just a steady power hike with the odd bit of jogging whenever I could muster it. My feet were suffering but by continually babying them they were holding up, all things considered.
By the time I reached Pole creek aid station (80ish miles) Jon convinced me to gaffer tape my feet up and sort them out when I finished. My feet felt great after this, dry and as well as could be expected. I even broke into a small run for the next few hundred meters before I saw bambi. (You couldn’t make this up). There was a fawn stuck in a mud slick next to the trail with its mother nowhere in sight. Heroically and without any further thought our own safety (or more importantly the dryness of my feet), Jon and I hurled ourselves into the knee depth mud and freed the little blighter who ran off none the worse for its experience. I, however, was mortified that my feet were now soaked again. I had to hope that the gaffer tape would hold out.
Allegedly the only bit where I was obviously tired (Jon remarked I had even stopped talking) was climbing out of Pole Creek towards Maggie’s. Ironically one of the smallest and easiest climbs of the course but it was hot sunshine and I felt my energy sap away.
By the time I hit Maggies I knew that there was little that would now stop me from finishing. It felt like the end was close. Well everything is relative. There was only 16 miles, or as it turned out 9 hours, to go...
After a 12 hours stint I swapped pacer to Jo who would be with me to the end. From there the weather turned and there were numerous squalls as the weather came and went, then jacket was on and off every few minutes...
Heading down toward Cunningham the final aid station, as another storm was about to hit.
By the time we reached the last aid station we were totally drenched and took a few minutes to warm up and put some food down at the aid station. So close now. During one of the trail marking days we had covered this section very slowly in circa 4.5 hours. I was hopeful as this was race day it might be closer to 3hrs. By this point my lungs felt like they were only using about 1/3 of the available air and at 13000 feet there was less air than usual available. I was making a meal of the last climb but pushed hard to make it over the top before dark. I knew that there was a 200m section of very narrow path at the top with sheer sides which I wanted to be past before dark. Made it and then it was mainly downhill to the finish but it was a long 7 miles into town. The time after dark on the second night I found myself hallucinating, every now and again when I looked at rocks or trees they morphed into shapes, faces and animals.
It was down, down, down another very rough jeep trail that I hoped but could not run. Just when I thought we were home dry, there was a massive bolt of lightning a sudden blast of wind and another squall from nowhere. Again we were totally saturated within seconds. I knew it wouldn’t stop me but after 40 hours, but I could have done without it. Reaching the base of the ski slow slope? it was a short walk across town, ‘don’t get lost Tim (that would be really embarrassing)’. I could finally relax, the last few hundred meters I ran. Boy did it feel good to finally be allowed to stop.
Into the finish chute and a handshake and medal from RD Dale who had himself been up for the full 43 hours already...
Someone helpfully reminded me at this point that you are not a real Hardrocker until you have run the course in both directions...er thanks...
The finish line web cams were true to their word and captured me kiss the hard rock for my long suffering and mildly worried girlfriend, family and friends who were able to get up 0600 UK time to watch me finish. At least Azusa had had her sister’s wedding to distract her from hitting refresh on the live site every 5 seconds for the last 42 hours. I think she was more exhausted than I was...
My favourite quote that someone overheard at the race was one of the runners was complaining to his wife at one of the aid stations to which she replied, ‘this is your choice so you just suck it up princess’...
I think that one may come back to bite me...
Other than the start this was the only time I saw these guys.
I spent much of the race soaking (literally) in the scenery and promising myself this was a onetime deal. Now that I am home with time to reflect, and the pain and exhaustion forgotten I am desperate to return (if possible). I think that having a poor memory could be considered strength in the armoury of an ultra runner...I would finish this sentence but have forgotten my point…
Overall I came 64 out of 98 finishers (70% finish rate) in just under 42 hours (Hal Koerner managed just under 25 hours). I am delighted to have completed the race but s mall part of me feels disappointed with the time. My lungs took a good month or so to calm down after the race before they started to feel normal again. Despite the acclimatisation I felt sluggish and gasping for air, more than the elevation alone could account for.
Applications are out now for 2013. I can promise you one thing; it will be an unforgettable adventure.
Finally done, with my great pacers.
