Seven years ago, shortly after signing up for my first 100 miler, I signed up for a hilarious 120miler race just to see what happens after the 160k mark. (I'm almost certain that this decision was also affected by my consumption of alcohol.) That race was also a Hardrock qualifier, and after enduring that race I embarked on a multi-year saga to make my way into this "post-graduate" race. I figured that by the time I made it through the lottery, my teeth would have been sufficiently sharpened enough to be able to make it through this endurance run (not a race!) in the San Juans.
I made it into the 2019 version, which was canceled by high snow depth, but then was deferred to 2020, which was canceled by a pandemic, and then deferred myself to 2022 in light of onerous travel and training opportunity restrictions during the 2021 race. I didn't count on getting into Western for 2022 as well, but with fears that I was losing my edge with nagging discomfort here and there with the progression of time, ('aging out', i guess), I elected to bag the two races in the same season. (and also three weeks apart.)
This is how that story ends.
I mean, it's been done before. Notably Jeff Browning, who was running the race again, owns the record for the world's stupidest lottery-based race double, with other notable finishers including Andy Jones Wilkins, Krissy Moehl, and Nick Clark.
But I am not these people.
In the span between Western and Hardrock, my three weeks looked like this:
- Gentle return to running, followed by hill repeats over Canada Day weekend. Seeing as poles were not allowed at Western, I spent the long weekend getting used to my poles again via local hill repeats.
- 22-hour aid station shift at Sinister 7. Originally scheduled for 20h, this was a way to get time on feet without any actual running.
- Taper like there's no tomorrow. I did not expect there to be much training upside so focusing on recovery was paramount.
I wouldn't fly into Colorado until the Wednesday before the race, against common sense, but this was because I had just started a new gig right before Western and I wanted to actually get some office time in. My altitude acclimatization would thus be done using the Altolab system, which had been started since before Western and I had bought enough soda lime to make hiking through Macchu Pichu a breeze.
My goals for this race were as follows -
- 36:xx. Which would be commensurate with Fat Dog and UTMB. I expected this race to be harder than UTMB because of the steeper grade but overall I expected it to be a decent analog. So it may be closer to 37.
- 3x:xx. I don't want to do a second night in the mountains.
- 4x:xx: There's a part of me that wants to ensure others have the ability to experience this race, so I'd like to get 'er done and then cede my eligibility to someone else.
My race roster (ha!) was comprised of the following folks -
- Rich and Kristy - fresh off crewing and pacing my ass at Western States, I figured I'd drag them along for continuity. Kristy would take crewing the entire time, and Rich would jump in for pacing between Ouray and Animas Fork, and then Cunningham Gulch to the finish.
- Joel - another runner friend from Calgary, Joel would be in town for Softrock the week after as part of training for a 200 later, so he figured he could spare a graveyard shift 57km between Animas Fork and Cunningham to take care of my drunk toddler ass.
There was a sizable contingent of other Calgarians there, notably my good friend Joanna who was at Sinister 7, Fat Dog and Bighorn with me back in the day, and her pacer Nikki, as well as other Canadians like Chris Aubrey and his pacer Alissa, and Larry/Mary from Lethbridge who would be working the last shift at Cunningham. All in all, I felt like I was among my people despite being stateside in the middle of nowhere.
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| Joanna, Me and Chris |
Hardrock would be run clockwise this year, which has a slower course record time implying it was more difficult. In addition to this, the course would be extended 2.5mi to ensure the mi58 aid station at Animas Forks had sufficient washroom facilities.
We started at 6am Friday, with a 48h time limit. With no official start line, Joanna, Chris and I started at the back of the pack right against the rock. The run started with a modest climb through the west of Silverton, but then turned into a slight downhill so I rocketed my way away from Joanna and Chris to bank some time. Our feet got wet within two miles when we crossed over to the west side of the 550, right into Mineral Creek and up the Silverton Bear Creek Trail. We started grinding out towards 12,000' at Cataract Putnam Pass, and I could feel my head was throbbing from the altitude but my watch told me I was still clocking sub-150 bpm. Much like Western, the pain train I seeded myself into didn't change much climbing to Cataract Putnam Pass, descending the saddle down to Cataract Basin and then back up to Porcupine Cataract Pass.
I didn't drink much water on this first 12mi, so once I hit the Kamm Traverse aid station I took a shot of ginger ale and a piece of bacon before quickly exiting. I saw Joanna coming into the aid station right behind me as I started the Kamm Traverse, and started ascending towards 13,000'. Views of the Ice Lakes Trail /Island Lake Trails parking lot showed a massive party at 930am on a Friday, making us wonder if folks work around these parts, but it turned out a large portion of these folks ascended the trail to cheer us on. A steep climb preceded our ascent to Grant Swamp Pass, and my lungs were absolutely busted charging up to the saddle between US Grant Peak and South Lookout Peak. I laid a rock on the Joel Zucker memorial plaque before dropping into the couloir.
Even though I bootskied down this section, Joanna came out of nowhere and disappeared into the treeline before I even made it halfway through the scree field. It was pretty uneventful to Chapman Gulch, where I caught Joanna right as she was leaving. I took a little bit longer this time to top up my fluids and grab some more ginger ale and stroopwaffels before chasing after her up the Ophir Pass road. Naturally, I passed her on my way up to Oscar's Pass and she returned the favor crossing the saddle into Bridal Veil Basin. Even though we were descending back to sub-9000', I couldn't make anything of the downhill and Chris caught me on the Telluride section of the Bear Creek Trail. We basically entered the aid station together during a decently sized rainstorm, right as Joanna was leaving. This was the first place I met Rich and Kristy at as I had intended to swap out my shoes here, given it was 28mi in. However, I elected to keep my shoes on as I did not think we were done with the rain for the day (it happened way too early) and settled for just a massage roll, cup of potato soup and a pickle juice freezie.
The next section was five miles, straight up to 13,100', to the famed Kroger's Canteen that sits on the tiny saddle of a part of the Mendota Ridge. Despite its spartan nature consisting of a few tables and a tarp, its presence is legendary given its setting - and the fact that they are known for serving tequila shots. We started by running through town to the Cornet Creek Trail, greeted by a massive surge of humidity from the dying rainstorm, before I was joined by Chris and a few more runners on the Liberty Bell trail. As we broke the treeline I managed to catch Joanna, but I let her stay in front of me all the way up to the ridge and across the scree field to the aid station.
Chris was there and we took seats next to him - I could feel my legs getting queasy with the blood surging back into them. There wasn't much of a wind, so we sat there for a hot minute and asked for tequila, but as it was under new management this year the best they could do was mezcal. Joanna and I obliged, I grabbed a perogy and then the three of us set off descending Virginius Pass.
Occasionally this was covered in snow but this year it was bone dry, so there wasn't a fixed line to get us down. The descent was characterized by three steep pitches of larger gravel, but Joanna being Joanna, she bootskied her way down and disappeared. I left Chris behind on the second pitch but took a hard fall on the third, yet I saw no one on these three miles until I caught Joanna exiting at Governor's Basin aid station right as I entered.
The next eight miles would largely be downhill on Camp Bird Road, and I joked to the aid station staff that because I was packing my anorak away, it was my fault if it started raining. Sure enough, three miles down the road, it started drizzling and by mile four I had to whip it back out. And naturally, I tore the zipper off, rendering my chest completely exposed to the rain. But despite this stroke of bad luck, these next few miles just blended in together - I couldn't see shit on this sparsely flagged section, between the monsoon dropping down and jeeps (yes, just one make) splashing around as they chased me down. Naturally I blew past my left turn on the Ouray Perimeter Trail and had to backtrack uphill (thanks to the runner who let me know!) but otherwise this section went by stupidly quick.
Somehow I beat Joanna by less than a minute, despite not actually running by her on this section, but hilariously Nicki had set up shop next to Rich and Kristy, and we ended up reminiscing about how stupidly similar this was to Fat Dog with all this stupid rain. Mary and Larry were there too, and having been at that race with us they laughed at this remark. I changed out my shoes, socks, jacket and shirt here while also picking up my headlamp and Rich as a pacer before zipping out of there to stay warm. It was slightly back on the Ouray Perimeter Trail where I realized I hadn't actually eaten anything solid and only had some soup and ramen.
And this is where everything started falling apart.
We got to cross the 550 on a trail over a tunnel, which was pretty neat, and I passed a few folks on this grind as my wet shorts were still keeping my cramping down. We followed the Ouray section of the Bear Creek trail to a steep, narrow gorge with huge vertical drops on my right, so I hilariously leaned left on this section. The sun starting setting over the gorge, and it wasn't long before my headlamps turned on. I ran when I could, but largely being uphill this section was mostly hiking. It wasn't long before Chris and his pacer Alissa passed me, although they were still there at Engineer AS when I got there (with Joanna and Nicki right behind me, obviously).
I stayed here longer because of my fueling deficiency, grabbing some more broth but also brisket for some reason. Chris and Alissa left shortly after our arrival, and I followed in short order, but it wasn't long before Joanna and Nicki caught us on the faint trail up to Oh! Point. I had forgotten to take a caffeine pill back at Ouray too, but as luck would have it Joanna had stole a few from my bag and she un-stole one for me. We only gained 1000' but given the time of day, the climb started feeling quite difficult and there was more hiking involved than I liked. We topped out just shy of 13,000' and then hit an OHV route towards the old ghost town of Animas Fork - and despite being largely runnable, my fueling error at Ouray was now in full swing and I couldn't find much speed here. Runners and pacers were now passing me quite frequently. Somehow the caffeine did not kick in, and I realized that the Tailwind I had been drinking was probably caffeinated, so the pill was doing fuck all.
Rich and I arrived at Animas Fork shortly before Chris, Alissa, Joanna and a different Chris left - and this was the last time I would see them during the race. Kristy told me they had been dry heaving and vomiting; while I had tried to mitigate my calorie deficiency by basically inhaling Tailwind to no avail, I was sorta jealous I couldn't reset my stomach that way and everything would have to come through the other end. I spent some more time here trying to get some solid food down, but it was here where I switched out my electrolyte to diluted Ginger ale, switched out Rich for Joel to pace me up Handies and beyond, and then rolled out my legs a bit.
We had a bit of a loop here to do because of the aid station relocation back to CR2, and soon we hit a massive uphill that lasted two miles to American Grouse Pass. Joel saw I was dying based on the number of folks who caught up to me, so he let me sit here for a quick sec at 13,000' and take in the massive line of headlamps that had descended American Basin and was moving up to Handies Peak. The 100k mark of the race was also the high point of the race, topping out just past 14,000'. It was a grind getting up here, with a cold wind picking up as we got closer to the summit. I wanted to bag this before sunrise, and with a cloudless sky it was difficult to see how close I was without looking at my sun/moon calculator on my watch. We didn't spend much time at the summit because of the wind, and we dropped into Grizzly Gulch Basin back into the treeline quickly. The sun came up shortly after, and after what seemed like descending eleventy bajillion stairs we finally hit Burrows Park AS.
This station was Christmas themed, with an actual Jesus cosplayer, but they even had the same massage roller that I had. I stuck around longer than I should have to get my head back in the game and ventured out on a 3mi slight downhill on CR30. True to form, this was at mi70 and I warned Joel my legs completely shutdown at this point, and sure enough, my running speed at this point was on the same pace as Joel's walking speed. I assessed that there was no point in trying to shuffle, so I only ran the downhills and hiked the flats and ups.
When we rolled into Sherman down the road, I saw that the folks who passed me on the road were still there, so I knew I made the right call with slowing down. My stomach was still reeling from the carnage of the Tailwind, so I stopped at the outhouse which hilariously had candles set up inside. I also think it was the same outhouse shown prominently in this film, which helped me orient myself to where I was on the course. I scarfed down more soup, bacon and solid food, but also got some saline solution for my dry as shit eyes from a kind volunteer. I think it was here where Joel mentioned he overhead a few vollies say there were still 60 runners behind me - doing the math, this meant that I was in the bottom half of the field assuming no DNFs. I saw the cutoff 10mi away at Pole Creek was at 1630h, and we left just past 9am. Yikes.
The next ascent was up Cataract Gulch trail, paralleling Cottonwood Creek. With my seized-up quads I yearned for a spot where I could jump into the creek, but frustratingly enough this didn't happen for at least two miles, so I ceded my position to quite a few folks. Hilariously enough, once we got past the wetlands and willows above treeline, one other runner called out Joel for being too far of me. Views of tarns and the Cataract Lake took the edge off the pain associated with getting up Cataract Pole Pass, and once we crested we found ourselves on the Continental Divide Trail.
The run down Pole Creek Trail was pretty uneventful - it was net downhill for four miles but all I could manage at this point was a slow shuffle. It was at this point in my race I started developing deja vu, like I had been here before - but it was my first time in the San Juans. I played games with my mind, trying to conjure up any places back home that looked like this, but I had nothing as far as I could remember.
And this was where my mind started to slip.
We hit Pole Creek just over four hours before cutoff, which was cutting it a bit close for me, but with 18h left to cover 18mi, I knew the cutoffs would ease up at some point. I stuck around with some of the runners who had passed me coming down to scarf some more solid food down, before following a pain train out on the 820 towards the junction of West Pole Creek. Because runners had disappeared over a crest before coming back up to the West fork, I thought that you had to descend downwards further than what the flags suggested. So that's what I did, all while Joel stood at the junction wondering what the fuck he signed up for.
So that was like, 30s, but he was probably getting worried about where my head was at. We made our way above Pole Creek in a maze of side drainages, and as we got higher towards Maggie/Pole Pass the skies started to rumble. It was supposed to be five miles between aid stations, but I didn't know the ascent was four of those miles, so my mind started trying to picture where along these rock formations could they possibly stash an aid station. There was an adit here and there, and with the thunder getting closer I told Joel we should probably start considering places we could hide out to wait for these clouds to pass. This was easier said than done above treeline, so we trudged frustratingly close to the saddle before deciding on hiding in some hedges Homer Simpson style. I threw my bag, poles and watch in a pile a few feet away and laid down as the drizzle picked up.
Joel woke me up four minutes later; it felt like eternity as i had actually passed out. My eyes saw the thunder cloud was not moving but was clearly staying due east of our position over the next mountain, so I told him we should make the most of it and charge up and over the saddle. This mile ended up being quite steep but we managed to descend to Maggie with no precipitation. I took off my jacket, scarfed down more soup and some solids, and, feeling desperate, swapped out my ginger ale for coke.
The afternoon heat was starting to get to Joel too, and he was stopping every so often on the climb up to Buffalo Boy Ridge at 13,000'. That being said, I absolutely needed him as the sparse flagging on this section was making me question where we were going, but he was still making all the right calls.
Sheep grazing in Green Mountain Basin made me think Cunningham was closer than it should have been, as apparently sheep baa-ing when you're tired sounds exactly like spectators cheering, but we were still a good five miles away. Once off the ridge we dropped down across Stony Pass Road towards Green Mountain and ascended Stony Pass Ridge with a gaggle of other runners and pacers. All these folks dropped us on the descent off the saddle, and Joel did his best fighting his desire to end this pacing gig from hell while ensuring I didn't get lost. My deja vu kicked in again on this descent, and I spent these three miles trying to figure out where I had seen this before - but I couldn't quite nail it down. It was also quite frustrating that you could literally see Rich and Kristy's vehicle from two miles out, but you had to contend with running an insanely long switchback in order to descend with functional knees.
At this point I knew I was so far back of my B goal that I just resorted to finishing the race, so I took some time here to recharge and ensure I wouldn't shit the bed on the back 10 miles. Joel would finally be relieved by Rich so he could get a half-decent sleep, and Larry and Mary were working the final shift to ensure runners who needed help got it. I took the time to eat and drink and roll and change out to my Speedgoats, as well as to switch out my headlamp batteries. Larry gave me a goal to not finish on Sunday, but I knew this would be quite tight, yet I thought it was a good goal to strive for.
Rich and I started off the leg by getting our feet wet in the Cunningham Creek, and we followed steep switchbacks out of the gulch towards Dives Little Giant Pass. The lack of sleep was getting to me, and I distinctly remember hilariously micromanaging where Rich was to hike in front of me/calling out trail markers frequently. It was probably an hour before our headlamps turned on and soon we were grinding our way up in the dark. I imagine Rich was probably getting frustrated by my inability to focus on just getting up the pass, but it was probably two hours before we made it to the top - at which point I saw we had only gone two miles.
For fuck's sake.
We dropped into a narrow pass on Arrastra Gulch, with faint headlamps in the distance but fully knowing we were going straight downhill. The trail here was sketchy as fuck, with some balded out steep sections which I contributed to by butt-sliding. My deja vu kicked in again here one more time, before we opened up on the world's stupidest fire road (in the sense each double track was completely full of rocks) and I finally woke up.
This road lasted quite some time, and again with the sparse flagging seen at Buffalo Boy Ridge, I started doubting whether Rich was going in the right direction. There were flags every so often, but with the darkness and the lack of other runners in the vicinity, my mind was asking to question his routefinding. Thankfully Rich had his phone and knew what the fuck he was doing and also did his best to orient my impaired brain, and despite my doubts he stuck with it through this section. Dialogues heard during this time:
- "where are we going?" 'to the campground.' "i don't want to go to the campground, i want to go into town to stop the clock." 'we have to go to the campground first, dumbass.'
- "how much longer?" 'about an hour if you're going to keep doing 12 minute k's.' "goddammit."
- 'why aren't you using your poles?' "oh, because i've been using them for almost a day and a half." 'fuck.'
- "how much longer? i'm having trouble staying awake." 'about 20 minutes, at your current pace.' "so about a mile left?" 'sure.' (it would be another 30 minutes before we hit the campground.)
despite my inability to shut up, less than eight runners and pacers passed on this section, but I knew I had failed Larry's goal and I was too afraid to look at my watch to see what time it was. Once we hit the edge of town into the Kendall Mountain Ski Area, where one older gentleman passed me. My senses finally got to me as I recognized this was where I dropped Nicki off and where she was camping, and I was well within a km of the rock. I sprinted after this older runner but the slight uphill on the Animas River bridge made me stop; Rich said it was ok to walk for a bit. We made it over the bridge, and I started running again past this guy - but my dumb mind wanted to turn left on Greene and then right on 12th, instead of the flagged way of turning left on Reese and then right on 12th. Rich must have been at wit's end at this point.
I hugged Rich before kissing the rock, and saw the race clock was well past 43h, implying we were well into Sunday at this point, but Joel and Kristy were still there to see me finish. I promised myself a finish line beer as I had been sober for four days on account of altitude, but the beer gardens were closed so I settled for a burger before departing for a nice warm bath in the condo.
This obviously wasn't the result I wanted during a race season from hell, but I am still grateful I had the chance to run around the San Juans. The volunteers here are the best, and there is a huge probability they've all run the course so they are not bullshitting you. At the awards breakfast I was asked by a slower repeat runner if I would return to high grade my time - once the burn of the last three weeks peels off, I think I may consider going the other direction.
But first, I will have to put out the burnout. It'll likely look like a bit more volunteering, gravel riding, running in places I haven't been in a long time, and running in places I haven't been to.
(Even if it feels like I have.)
By the numbers:
- Placement: 80/145
- Time: 43:16:10
- DNF%: 20%
- sub-24%: 2%
- Distance: 102.5mi/164k
- Elevation gain: 33197'/10277m
Stray observations -
- according to Larry, every runner he helped on his shift from 6pm - 6am at Cunningham finished.
- Feel Like You’ve Been Here Before? It Might Be Déjà Vu (pennmedicine.org)
Tips for prospective runners -
- Stage out of Silverton. The US-550 is one of the most batshit insane roads to drive on that I have ever encountered, characterized by steep dropoffs, a lack of guardrails and way too many hairpin turns. We stayed closer to Purgatory to find a bigger set of accommodations, but regretted this decision when we saw the nature of the roads we had to hypothetically drive in the night. Rich and Kristy ended up crashing in Joel's hotel room for shut-eye and our condo lay dormant during the entire race.
- The number of ungulates on the road while driving back just before 2am after the race was a little butt puckering.
- Ensure you have adequate supplies for fixing a flat. Amazingly we didn't pop a tire during the race, but a massive rainstorm the Monday morning after the race washed some rocks onto the 550 and we punctured a tire just before hitting Ouray on our way to Grand Junction. Somehow there's a void of tire repair shops between Ouray and Montrose.
- Figure out a fueling regime for liquid calories. This was my biggest problem, as I relied on Tailwind to get me through times of stomach sensitivity. Having learned nothing from Mogollon, my fueling went completely to shit when Tailwind was the cause of my intestinal cramping.
- Dry clothes! It's monsoon season and guaranteed to rain. Multiple pairs of fresh socks will do much good.
- Prepare to throw your shoes out. The terrain is unforgiving and I lost a huge chunk of my right Hoka Speedgoat on the back 10 mi.
- Bring a water filter! I found myself always overestimating how much I needed between sections because of the vert so I had to refill a few times from streams.
- Sunscreen. The sun hits differently at that altitude. I'm still shedding skin a week after.
- Eye drops if you have contacts! It's dry out there.
- Take a pacer. There won't be a shortage of volunteers (there's signup lists at package pickup) and you don't want to run the risk of having to hang onto reality all by yourself.
- maybe it's just me, but the inconsistent flagging intervals was making me doubt the route finding. get comfortable with that.
Shoutouts in no particular order of importance -
- Tamara - I never understood what you went through seven years ago at Fat Dog until this race. I am so sorry for not understanding sooner.
- Rich/Joel - In a similar vein, thanks for taking care of my drunk toddler ass and not obliging my dumb whims. And especially to Rich, for seeing the carnage of Western and then coming down one more time.
- Kristy - I don't deserve you. Seriously, you should start charging for this.
- Joanna - I think it was you who got me into Fat Dog, so it was totally apt for you to be at the end of this chapter. Thank you for introducing me to this slightly more chaotic side of trail running, where the folks are eleventy bajillion more times wholesomely weird.
- Nicki, Mary, Larry, Chris and Alissa - thanks for being a friendly face on the course. Even when you were kicking my ass in various capacities.
Up next:
- 3 September: Steep 100k
When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.
--Stars, 'Your Ex-Lover is Dead'
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