Hardrock 100

The San Juan Mountains live up to their mythical proportions. Last weekend my neck muscles got a good workout from constantly looking up at the risen earth solidified into rock over millions of years. The span from the ground up to the tip of these mountains seems miles long. On the drive into Silverton, CO I saw peaks jutting upward into the sky all around me. The road twisted around corners and revealed even more mountains the closer we got. My friend Devon was driving me and his friend Avery toward the toughest 100 mile race in the country, The Hardrock 100 Mile Endurance Race. As we drove through the night the near full moon made the mountains glow and also created magnificent silhouettes of the surrounding mountains. We took it all in and knew it was only going to get better come daybreak. In the meantime I was comfortable in the backseat and tried to get some rest before the excitement began.

 From the moment we arrived into town we were like little kids, giddy and full of anticipation. We even made a comment about how empty the streets were at  4:30AM. Wasn’t this the most competitive 100 mile race this year? Where were all the spectators and racers? Well apparently they were soundly asleep or just slowly waking up. This race has one of the longest cutoff times for a 100 mile race at 48 hours and of the 140 racers only 100 would cross the finish line in that time. So it comes to no surprise that for those 140 racers they wanted to get to the finish line rested and ready to pummel their bodies for the next two days. We met one racer who had trouble eating in the morning. He looked nervous and his feet were taped up heavily from many training miles. We talked with him a bit and wished him luck. Our presence must have been appreciated since when he asked who we were here to support and we replied no one, he looked impressed. It was unique that us three Ultrarunners were here simply to be spectators and take in the race like any other major sporting event. The difference was that this sport was taking place in very remote parts of the mountains. Not only is the course difficult to traverse by car, but getting to the aid stations is a bit of a hike too. 

The crowd eventually formed near the start and soon we were among the best mountain runners in the world. Watching these world class runners mingling amongst each other was interesting. They appeared so similar to most runners but the main difference is that they had an air of confidence about them. Some were very talkative (Killian Jornet) while others (Dakota Jones) kept to themselves. Soon the runners lined up and the countdown began. Devon and I stood near the start to watch the supercharged stampede of the greatest in the sport run right by us. I felt so privileged to watch firsthand what was sure to be a historical race in the Ultra community. 

Killian chatting it up pre-race

The street emptied and we made our way to get some morning drinks at a local bakery/pizzeria/brewery. Once there we got advice on where to set up camp and plan our stay for the next day or so. After finishing our breakfast we got to Mineral Creek and set up camp along the creek. There wasn’t much to do since it would be at least 10 hours from the start until we would see the runners come through Ouray at mile 43. Avery was feeling spryly and felt the need for a run. Having only drank a few "morning sodas" I decided it would be good to get the legs moving and join him. Devon stayed at the camp and got some rest since he had driven throughout the entire night. Avery and I set off with no destination in mind except to climb high into the mountains. We followed the first trailhead we saw that took us to Clear Lake. It was an alpine lake that rested just above tree line near 12,000 feet in elevation. Usually at that altitude you can see a pretty decent view of the surrounding area. Not in the San Juans. Our view was limited since there are multiple mountains that reach 14,000 feet surrounding the entire area. We settled for a view of a pristine lake with snow caps suspended along the bowl rim that fed into the lake. There was another trail that looked like it might go toward the summit but we still had a race to see so we called it and headed back to camp. 

A fine "Morning Soda"

Another Hardrock fan.

Once at the camp we took down some food and hydrated with some leftover breakfast sodas. Just as we were settling down after the run a storm came in and we took shelter while is passed. It turned out to be a smart decision to come back to camp after all. Getting caught in the mountains while a storm passes is no fun. We ended up staying at camp a bit longer and found out the leaders had already passed through Ouray so we reassessed our plan and decided to head toward Grouse aid station at mile 58.

While waiting for the leaders we once again mingled with support crew and volunteers. The crowd was very relaxed and even the dozen media personnel seemed easygoing. This was definitely a beautiful section of the course where the runners would start the climb up Handies Peak, the only 14er they cross along the course. While waiting I couldn’t help but think of the incredible grit and determination processed by these runners. I’ve climbed a few 14ers since my time here but I couldn’t fathom running for 50+ miles and then having to summit one. But that was one of the reasons I wanted to be here. I needed to witness that passion to do such a task. I wanted to be inspired so that I could one day accomplish an amazing feat such as these runners were doing. While perched above some of the switchbacks I got to see the dichotomy of differences in the elite runners. Killian was like a well oiled machine and kept moving along without much hesitation. The runners that followed exhibited a more human appearance. They seemed exhausted but determined to keep moving. We followed suit and kept moving along to the next part of the race.

Killian cruising on by with pacer Ricky Gates

Meeting Anna "Frosty" - part of Killian's crew and pacer

We stopped in town and talked with some more crew members before eventually going back to camp to rest for a few hours. Those few hours turned into more than we planned and we awoke to find out that Killian had just broken the “untouchable” course record by 40 minutes. This was a huge surprise to us and even if we hadn’t overslept we still would have missed him by 15 minutes if we had gotten to the finish line by the time we had originally planned on. Once we arrived to the finish the fourth place runner Jeff Browning had just passed through. We would stick around here until Timothy Olson sauntered in at 13^th with wife and child at his side. Seeing him finish was amazing and definitely worth the wait. But the finisher that left me feeling most in awe was Tsuyoshi Kaburaki. He finished in 6^th and he, without a doubt, had the biggest smile on his face. He was so proud to have finished such a tremendous race with over 33,000 feet of elevation and intense storms (one runner had even been struck by lightning). Tsuyoshi had a large gash on his jaw from a fallen rock that hit him during the run. Also his left knee was bleeding indicating a fall or more rock getting in his way. The way he ran into the finish chute with hands raised and waving to the crowd excitedly left me feeling stunned. If I ever could finish one of these races it would be my intention to do so with the same gusto and attitude that Tsuyoshi had. I’ve seen some pretty amazing finishes but this one definitely took the cake. Even after Tsuyoshi was out of the finish chute when I saw him walking around I had to clap for him again and he gave me that same ear to ear smile with an acknowledging bow. 

Tsuyoshi with a huge grin in the finish chute

Tsuyoshi officially becoming a Hardrock finisher by kissing the "Hardrock"

This race left me motivated and I’ve been running enchanted as of late. During my runs this week I can’t get the image of those runners charging along the course and accomplishing such an incredible journey. It’s been such a great motivation during my runs and I’m so glad their inspiration is still being put to use. I am elated I spent a weekend among champions and I can’t describe the environment at Hardrock any better than with the words of Gretchen Leglar. Hardrock is indeed “That magical, paradoxical diminishment of self and enlargement of spirit that such a landscape brings.”

I can’t say I will ever run this race, but I might give the Softrock 100 a try someday.

Run because it's fun

The pavement is hot in the afternoon from the accumulated heat brought on by the clear skies of the day. The air is dry but remains surprisingly cool. It is the katabatic winds that drop with their density to bring this cool breeze down the mountains. As I put on my running shoes the loose dirt from my last run floats softly into the air as I tighten the laces together. I notice this hazy cloud because the sun is beaming into my room at just the right angle to cast visible rays across the floor. I grab my water bottle that is filled to the brim and head out the door. My feet strike the ground and the stiffness from the pavement will only be underfoot for a minute or two. A quarter mile from my front door I reach a trail head and I'm engulfed with wild sagebrush and its gentile fragrance. The single track trail that welcomes me is well worn in by the cattle that grazed here earlier this spring. Their hoof marks are cemented into the ground and created divots that require careful attention so as to avoid rolling an ankle. After passing through a second gate the base of the mountain is finally revealed. 

My time in Colorado has flown by. I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve spent my first month in this wonderful state. From the incredible high altitudes I’ve traversed to the beautiful streams and forests, it all overwhelms my senses. The wildlife is incredible and powerful. Not a day goes by without me learning something new about nature or about myself. I worry that at some point I will tire of this adventure but I know that with my passion for exploring and discovery it will be a long while before I tire of this place. My vision of Colorado is one of grandeur, like looking up at the impossibly distant summit from the base of a mountain.

 

The dirt remains loose but small cobbles present themselves along the trail. They are the remnants of the latest rockfall and are strewn among slabs of boulders that the trail meanders through. The vegetation begins to lessen as the surface gradient increases and only the toughest of plants remain. The trail tucks into the shadow of an adjacent mountain and the shade is much welcomed at this point. Since leaving my front porch a half hour ago it has been an uphill climb and still I continue to run.

My new friends in town have continued to show me nothing but good graces. There is always an invite for a get-together or for a dinner every few days. There are also local events occurring with more frequency than I expected for such a small town. I sometimes feel bad turning down some of the invites but I need some time to be on my own and go for a run. When I do go on these invites I enjoy myself but they tend to become all night affairs which in turn impair my sleep and liver functionality. These effects are usually necessary to add joy while in the company of others but I am careful to not get carried away. I know there is much to do and see the next day just like when you're coming around the next switchback of a mountain.

The switchbacks begin right after passing a flat white rock on the trail. The steepness gets close to almost making you want to walk but with my fortitude I push on and keep running. My pace slows but I maintain a rhythm and my heart rate beats rapidly. The shade begins to diminish as I gain altitude and return to warm sunshine. The bushes lining the trail usually shake and rustle a bit as small mammals rush for safety. Nothing has surprised me more in this section than when a ground squirrel took an enormous leap of faith directly in front of me. Coming from my right this creature jumped from just above my head and landed off to my left where the trail drops off. All the while its feet were scrambling back and forth wildly awaiting traction to come underfoot. After what seemed like a few very long seconds it succumbed to gravity and hit the rocks below me while scampering off without skipping a beat. Witnessing this animal's complete awareness of its surroundings and its own capabilities deeply impressed me.

While summiting some of the 14ers I have been taking a shortcut on the way down. I’ve recently learned the joy of glissading on snow and learned how much fun can be had with a jacket, my butt, and the willingness to trust my abilities. I basically butt slide down the mountain until I run out of snow or until the snow becomes cluttered with rocks and would make for quite a bumpy ride. At first it is incredibly frightening just jumping out and letting gravity take over but after a few rides I became confident. I was soon trying to glissade wherever there were any patches of snow. I felt pride knowing I acquired a new skill and could now master a tiny bit more of my surroundings.

The trail continues up more switchbacks and eventually levels off a bit once you reach the red sands. Near the first summit there is red rock exposed and much of its sand and powder covers the trail. Loose shale is also among the rock and crumbles sharply as you step over it. It may feel a bit wobbly if you over think each step so it's better to just keep moving. I continue running while acknowledging that this trail will change the next time as others will pass through and move these rocks creating new variations in the route. As I approach the first vista I pause momentarily as it still takes my breath away. The view is overlooking the entire town and in the distance there are mountains with snow still on the peaks. It won’t be there much longer and neither is my respite while gazing at them. I push on running ahead knowing the summit is still further along.

I still have much to do in Colorado. This weekend I will get to know the Mile High City (Denver) and partake in the 4^th of July festivities. The week after, I will be visiting the San Juan Mountains to be a spectator at one of the most competitive Ultra races known as the Hardrock 100. After that I will make my way to Steamboat Springs to learn some of the trails out that way. I also plan to visit Moab and Arches national park in the neighboring state of Utah. In August I’ll also be heading to Leadville for their own famous 100 mile race. And lastly, I’ll be squeezing in a few 14ers where I can while also training up for Oil Creek 100, my target race in early October. Just thinking about all I have left to do this summer is like having another summit still left to climb. Fortunately, I am an endurance athlete and I know each step forward is progress made even if it’s just one step at a time.

The flowers surrounding the trail are magnificent. Such tiny beauty atop a harsh environment is almost unbelievable. The summit is finally within grasp and my pace can slowly unwind while I take another respite at the top. I reach the clearing and fill out the trail register while catching my breath. I spend a long minute staring at the mountains and enjoying the moment. With a smile on my face and the wind still gently blowing, I turn back to the trail and head down. I fly with so much momentum and reach the bottom back to the trail head in what always seems like way too fast. As my legs regain composure back on the pavement a small child on a bicycle sees me and asks me a few questions.

“Hi, what are you doing?” he asks.

“Running” I reply.

“Why?” he asks with such innocence.

“Because it’s fun” I say without hesitation. As I the distance grows between us I can tell he is thinking over my response.

Then, just as I am turning down the street he yells out to me, “I like to run too!”

 

Welcome to the High Country

The miles of open road between DeKalb, IL and Meeker, CO were host to my little car as I drove across the Great Plains and over the Great Divide. I had loaded up my vehicle with the necessities I would need for the summer and set my sights for the High Country. I had beautiful weather as my companion and time on my side. I was in no rush since I had the entire Memorial Day weekend to reach my destination. I had an 18 hour drive and I was intending to make the best of it. Passing through the open stretches of the heartland gave me plenty of time for reflection. Gazing at the roads and pastures my thoughts focused on the new surroundings and people I would meet. I wondered how well I would adjust to a new setting with zero friends and family. Transitioning is never easy, but fortunately I have a knack for meeting new folk and warming up to strangers. I knew that with my demeanor and attitude it wouldn’t take long for me to feel comfortable with my new home. What I didn’t expect was to feel like I was at home in new place within the first week.

My purpose for moving to Colorado for the summer was to work with the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) as a Hydrologic Technician. I had taken the summer internship for experience, college credit, and to spend a summer in the Mecca of ultrarunning, the High Country. I had envisioned a landscape like I had seen so much in magazines, youtube videos, and on my favorite website TrailPorn.com. I pictured snowcapped mountains, dusty trails, hills for miles, and the sky that would welcome me with all the colors of nature. The morning I was driving across the border of Colorado I had a golden sunrise and I let out a squeal of joy as I saw the sign that said “Welcome to Colorful Colorado.” I sure felt welcome after seeing that sign knowing I was one mile closer to the mountains I would call home.

A few hours later while driving I got a surge of excitement as I saw the formation of mountains. I blinked hard and looked closer into the distance. Far ahead of the highway I saw the white silhouette that I believed were mountaintops. I couldn’t believe how high into the sky they were reaching. I wanted to believe that I was really looking at mountains so I looked harder. As I scanned the surroundings I realized it was just a cloud formation and not real mountains. I patiently put my giddy nerves back inside to wait for the right moment. I had grown accustomed to running out in the Midwestern country roads and fantasizing that the clouds in the distant horizon were mountains. It felt silly but also made me smile when I would visualize running with an enormous mountain as my background. Mountain shaped clouds became good friends of mine on many runs in Corn Country. It wasn’t long until I blinked hard again and this time the mountains didn’t move. The emotions flooded me as they leaked out of my eyes with my mouth wide open and my breathing momentarily paused. I felt overjoyed and so at peace knowing this moment was exactly what I had been waiting for. It felt like when you see your favorite band perform for the first time or when you take the first step into your favorite amusement park. A sense of euphoria washed over me and I still had five more hours to go until I reached my destination.

The false cloud mountains

The real mountains

I stopped in Boulder to refuel my car and my appetite. I had a pleasant conversation with the gas attendant and also with a fellow patron at a small eatery and pub called Avery Brewing Company. Spending only about an hour there I immediately wanted to end my journey and begin to settle in. The short interactions I had immediately warmed me to this city but I had to reluctantly continue my journey to Meeker. As I left the Front Range I was still all smiles knowing I had many new people and adventures to meet. Having the mountains surround me made me feel small and humble. Having nature stare down at you can bring about a connection we seldom acknowledge. We are as much a part of nature as anything else. The human mind easily forgets this relationship as we are inundated with technology and countless activities that vie for our attention away from nature. I welcomed this feeling and drove further into the mountains.

As I exited the Eisenhower Tunnel, the longest mountain tunnel in the world, I was abruptly greeted by whiteout conditions. I had entered the tunnel with rain coming down and on the other side it was coming down as sleet and snow. The cars in front of me slowed down and I followed their lead. The weather didn’t let up and for the next hour I drove through a blizzard occurring at the end of May. Apparently this is common until mid June in this region. It was at this point when I began to realize I should have packed more cold weather clothes.  Blizzards and cold weather did not dampen my spirit. I drove on and eventually left the snow and entered the canyons. I snaked my way along the Colorado River on the highway that mimicked its path. I had a hard time not staring at the many river features and characteristics I had studied about in my classes. It was like a textbook come alive. Then I was distracted by an Amtrak train which raced along the other side of the river. Of course I won but I couldn’t help imagine what scenic views that train ride must offer. 

Blizzard in the High Country

Racing the Amtrak

My drive continued with light rain and cloudy skies. I had fantastic views of mountains in all directions and I knew I would be arriving to my destination soon. I saw the exit for Meeker and gladly got off the highway. It was still another hour until I eventually arrived at my new place for the next 3 months. I was greeted by my host and quickly unpacked while eagerly asking many questions about the area. I wanted to be settled in quickly and start exploring the mountains. Fortunately, I would do just that. I met so many people and all were welcoming and friendly. With some of these different people I managed to go hiking and feel the altitude, mountain bike over the most technical trail of my life at 7,000 feet, run that same trail twice, see some amazing views my work has to offer, and also managed to attempt a 14er (a mountain that reaches at least 14,000 feet above sea level) all during my first week in Colorado. I have never truly felt more at home in a place I never knew. I can also tell you that while climbing the Mount of the Holy Cross (a 14er) I received the best welcome of all. I was hiking near the summit where it was very steep and I quickly winded myself in the thin air at about 13,000 feet. I was struggling to breathe so I plopped face down on a small patch of alpine grass and breathed heavily into the ground. I felt my chest rise and fall as I took deep breaths while entranced with the views. I noticed the warmth from the sun drenched grass hugging me and making me feel better. If anyone could see me it looked like I was just laid out on a mountain but to me it felt like nature was embracing me and whispering, “Welcome home.”

Work site

 

 

Work site #2

Non-work site