Hardrock 100 2016

Hardrock100 2016.

I flew into Durango and on to Silverton on July 4th. Eleven days out from race day and my chance to top up the acclimatisation sessions I had been doing 3 times a week for the previous month. Andy kindly picked me up having arrived a few days earlier. We pulled into Silverton and the Prospector hotel late that night. I had just missed the July 4th parade and fireworks earlier in the day, the biggest day on the calendar for Silverton.

I took full advantage of the first 4 days leading up to race day with long days in the mountains reacquainting with the beautiful San Juans and some of the best parts of the course including Virginius Pass and Bear Creek trail. I seemed to be coping with the high altitude quite well and had no real issues with heart rate and blood ox saturation levels good.

Race day couldn't come soon enough however and I was chomping at the bit.  After the usual catch up at race briefing, rego and camp Hardrock, race day finally arrived. I was pumped to catch up with Gavin and Rebekah who were in town to crew me. I decided to go pacerless this time, a decision made easier when I found an app with the entire course laid out, should I have trouble with navigation.

Race morning was a buzz with nervous anxiety, the energy at the startline incredible. Dale sent us on our way with his customary low key 'get out of here' and with that each of us were set loose to experience the majesty of the San Juans.

Upon leaving the town I noticed the owner of the Prospector hotel we were staying at Andy, out on his verandah (as he had promised) watching the runners go by. I yelled out to him and he acknowledged me. I would see him again some 2 days later.

It was wonderful to be finally amongst it and moving as we stepped onto the first piece of singletrack out of town and up the shrine hill. Joe Grant had taken off at the front with the usual suspects sitting in a group behind. By the time I reached the top of the hill and rejoined the jeep road they were out of sight around the bend.  I chose to wear my heart rate monitor for the first half of the race to keep an eye on effort. I had been using it in the altitude chamber treadmill sessions in Sydney and knew what kind of HR I would be at a given altitude and incline so had a reference point of where I knew could sustain a measured effort. I knew there would be some nervous energy at the start and my HR would be higher than usual so decided to give it a few kms to settle. However what transpired was that my HR never dropped for the first few hours sitting 10-15 beats higher than expected for the level of effort, strange?

I joined a group of chatty runners along Nute’s chute and down to the river crossing where a vocal group of supporters had gathered. It was such a buzz being out there again and I never for one second took for granted the amazing opportunity afforded us getting picked in the sacred lottery once again.

The first climb up to Putman was way prettier than I remembered from 6 years ago with an abundance of wild flowers about, the early spring providing a blanket of colours across the San Juans, a sight that would be repeated throughout the weekend across the mountains.

I fell in with Meghan Hicks over the top of Putman, we chatted for a while before she kicked off down the other side along the off trail section down to KT aid station at 11.5 miles. I stopped briefly at the aid station to top up one of my soft flasks, admiring the beauty of the valley floor, before shuffling off to the next climb towards Grants Swamp. This section is one of the prettiest along the ice lakes trail with the infamous Island lake off to the left. I was struggling a little trying to keep up with the group of runners I had fallen in with. All of a sudden Hardrock legend Billy Simpson appeared offering encouragement with a high five just before the summit. I stopped momentarily just before the pass at the Joel Zucker memorial plaque placing a stone on the cairn.  There was quite a gathering at the top too, plenty of runners assembled watching the frenzied scree descent. This section was even more treacherous with a record dry year with high temps. I paused to look across Swamp canyon below and across to the imposing next climb across the valley up Oscars Pass. The enormity of this undertaking really kicked in at this point. I jumped onto the scree and began my freefall. The earth literally moves beneath your feet, poles were useless at this point, it’s a case of trying to remain upright. I fell on my arse numerous times ripping my shorts glissading on the rolling earth, too much fun. The trail then opens up to a beautiful rolling descent into the Chapman saddle before dropping steeply to the aid station and the first opportunity to access drop bags or crew at 18 miles.

Gavin and Rebekah would meet me at Telluride the next aid station so I used a drop here, quickly replenishing my tailwind and gel supply. Energy levels were good but I was beginning to feel the effects of a concerted effort at altitude and the day was starting to warm up quite a bit. The first few swithcbacks up Oscars went by ok. But it wasn’t long before I hit a bad patch and started to really struggle. The climb once out of the treeline exposed to the sun was brutal. I stopped frequently bending over my poles trying to fill my lungs, memories of my 2010 run came flooding back. Blake Wood passed me running his 20^th Hardrock after missing last years run due to a knee op. He was in better spirits than I and moved past efficiently. Todd Salzer another hardrock veteran soon came past slowing to offer some encouragement noticing I was struggling, He maintained that this climb was the toughest in all times running HR and he was still yet to master it. A couple of runners were feeling it too some collapsing off to the side, emptying the contents of their stomachs. I laboured to the top finally summiting the 13,140ft pass.  There was some snow on the lee side of the pass which was easily negotiated with some post holing. My goal was to get off the summit down into the Wasatch basin asap, to the more oxygen rich township of Telluride. I ran with Todd for a while along the glorious trail that parallels Telluride Bear Creek and soon passed 17 time finisher Betsy Kalmeyer. The trails were dry and dusty switchbacking furiously as we re-entered the treeline descending further into the basin on route to Telluride.

Telluride at 27.8 miles is one of the bigger aid stations and the second lowest point of the entire course at 8750ft (Ouray is the lowest at 7870ft). As I crossed the sports ground approaching the aid station I spotted Gav and Rebekah, who made themselves known. They were fantastic, with everything ready. My drop bag laid out and a chair ready. Bottles refilled, more sun cream applied and a hot burrito, I was soon heading out of town, 30 odd minutes up on my splits from 2010. I was in much better spirits now as I left the aid station. It was hot as I entered the township following the chalk marks on the road. I missed the main right turn out of town however and proceeded to walk up a hill to the north of town. Soo realising my mistake I ran back towards the aid station and saw the missed turn. I was annoyed with myself as I pretty much wiped out any tie gains of the swift aid station turnaround.  The climb out of town was slow and laboured as I tried to down as much solid fuel as possible. My stomach was way more tolerant to solids at the lower elevations. The trail up into the forest soon affords views back over the township. Telluride is pretty much a fancy Ouray which is a commercialised Silverton I thought to myself.  Several switchbacks later climbing back up to 11,000 ft the treeline is reached and views over the Mendota saddle open up. Soon after Virginius pass can be seen in the distance. I moved well stomping away on my poles. The bench cut into the side of the mountain was treacherous in the extremely dry conditions. This required careful negotiation on tired legs in the ever increasing thin air. A line of runners tackling the final pitches up to Krogers Canteen stretched out before me. This is a major junction in the run. As I neared the final crazy steep 50 meters to the pass, one time HR winner and multiple Barkley finisher Jared Campbell appeared camera in hand. He geed me up as I clumsily tackled the final pitch. Such a relief to finally summit, Roch Horton and crew moved quickly into action. I sat down and Roch quickly stashed my poles in my pack mentioning there was no need for them til Ouray. He offered a warm tortilla of sorts filled with warm cheese and sweet potatoes. Oh my god did that hit the spot. I got up and made for the rope which was placed for safety down the crazy first descent. Much of the snow from the course marking day a week earlier was now melted which meant we couldn’t glissade down the first pass. Bummer but thankfully the rope allowed a safe and quick descent. Drew Gunn from Durango (whom I had met earlier in the Pine Needle sports store in Durango) joined me here for the descent. He was attempting his fifth run to become a veteran. After the first pitch roped descent we proceeded to glissade down the second, at times falling knee deep in melting snow. A mixture of fear and exhilaration enveloped me. Before long we were pulling into Govenor aid station. I didn’t stop here instead choosing to proceed directly onto Camp Bird mine road and the long dry and dusty 14km descent into the township of Ouray. This is a tough long downhill stretch where you can easily blow the quads. I ran probably 90% of it meeting up with Betsy Kalmeyer once more before passing her as we approached the turn off for the trail through Box Canyon tunnel, through the campground and on to the aid station.

It was around 7.30pm and I was in great spirits having made Ouray in daylight and still 30 mins or so up on 2010 splits. As I approached the CP, I noticed Rebekah and Gavin calling out. They quickly ushered me to a chair and had everything prepared. I hastily changed socks and scoffed some food. A few photos and I was out of there, the CP chief asking if I had a pacer as I left. This was the first CP where runners could pick their pacer up. I was leaving alone despite Gavin’s offer to pace. I wanted the additional challenge of being out there alone and really experiencing the trail and night that was soon to come. Ouray was still buzzing with tourists as I made my way through the streets and out of town. The way was reasonably well marked at each intersection and soon I was back on trails heading for the Bear Creek trail section. But first a rather convoluted few kms of undulating single track that was tough mentally. I followed another runner who had his son pacing him. He was giving updates on the Tour de France which was neat as I had been following it closely in the days preceding the race.

I managed to reach the trailhead at Bear creek after crossing the million dollar Highway 550, still with some daylight to get to the top of the slate slewn climb of 13 switchbacks. One of the more pivotal points of the race and a move onto the second half of the run so to speak. I took some time to connect my USB battery pack to my dying Fenix beforehand. Pulling on the poles I made quick progress up the tinkling trail reaching the top on dusk. The next few hours I proceeded to pass several runners with their pacers, just as I had done in 2010, along this section. The trail cut out along the edge of the cliff above Bear creek was where I first switched on my headlamp. Never a big fan of the initial switch from natural twilight to the artificial light cocoon.

Several creek crossings later and a long gradual climb through the forest that hugged the pass up to Engineers I reached the CP. The smoke from their welcoming fire could be smelt well before the aid station came into view. There were several runners gathered there in varying degrees of distress. It was cold now so I put my jacket on and sat down once again to get some soup into me. It was too comfortable however and I soon arose from my seat and checked out back into the night.

The trail was lit up for the first 50 metres or so to guide us toward the rutted track across the vast meadow that would lead us up to Govenor’s Pass. The light on top of the pass can be seen literally from the previous aid station. I stopped halfway across the valley to get my beanie and gloves out, I had stupidly neglected to have them ready whilst at the aid station. A runner and her pacer passed by, I soon caught back up and passed them. Getting some mojo happening with the poles I was soon at the top of Govenor’s looking back down the valley at the snake of lights behind me. Each in the midst of their own battles. The wind was blowing hard at the top and I knew I had to keep moving briskly and get on the road and onto the long downhill kms into Grouse Gulch.

A series of long switchbacks with distant voices to be heard along the way, I studied every intersection making sure I stayed on the right course knowing several runners get it wrong here every year. Before long I could see the aid station off to the right several kms away still. It seemed to take an eternity to finally arrive there. The aid station is well equipped and another popular pick up your pacer checkpoint. I took note of the trail up off the road to the left that takes you up towards Handies on my way in. Another hot drink and replenish of soft flasks and I was soon out again. The volunteer impressed upon realising I had no pacer. Funny I thought to myself, wondering how many runners actually run this thing solo? And if we all ran pacerless, could we fit a few more runners into the race? I was feeling replenished again and looking forward to the longest climb of the course across the American basin and up to the highest point atop Handie’s Peak and 14,064 ft (4320m).

The initial few swithcbacks went by harmlessly as I got back into the rhythm of tapping away on my poles. The lights from the CP can be seen slowly disappearing below the further I climbed. I recalled how after picking up a pacer in 2010 at Grouse how I struggled to get going here. This time I was fitter and more acclimated I told myself anyway. J The next few hours proceeded to pass by quickly as I climbed and climbed every now and again turning around to catch a few lights from runners behind. It got colder and windier the higher I got not to mention the drop in available oxygen.

However I was determined to push though this section and get on to the second part of the course proper. This would require moving as briskly as possible in the remaining darkness of night.

I recalled how I summited Handies at dawn in 2010, taking some time out to marvel at the vast 360 degree spectacle of the San Juans high country. This year I was approaching the summit in the wee darkest hours just before dawn. I got real cold and the wind was crazy. As I rolled over the final pitch onto the peak I noticed a faint light on the horizon signalling the approaching sunrise. I looked at the sky and took a moment to appreciate how close I felt to the abundance of pin holes (stars J) in the black sky. A couple of minutes only but so worth it and soon I was heading off for the descent.

The actual descent off Handies is treacherous at the best of times but given how dry it was this year I would liken the footing to skating on ball bearings at a 45 degrees angle. It was crazy slippery under foot but I made good progress as I pulled away from a runner and his pacer who were not far behind.

Making good use of my extra set of pegs (my trekking poles) I negotiated the treacherous singletrack off Handies bottoming out in the American Basin right on dawn. Time check had me a good hour up on splits and I was delighted with how I ran through the night passing several runners and their pacers.

The alpine meadows soon disappear as I descended onto single-track down the Grizzly Gulch Lakes trail and into the Burrows aid station. The reception as I crossed the bridge before the checkpoint was brilliant. An appropriately Irish themed checkpoint with shamrocks and tricolours, I was greeted by a very enthusiastic young lady with a warm hug. My mood was already buoyant but now I was ready to charge down the road to Sherman, another 6.5kms or so and one of the bigger checkpoints. I didn’t linger at Burrows figuring I would have some breakfast at Shermans.

And so off I trotted, down the winding road. This is where it went pear shaped. As I ran around one of the main corners I missed the course markers point to the single-track that would lead down through the forest to Sherman. There was a truck parked there so that didn’t help. Upshot I proceeded for a good 3kms down the road until it twigged that something was not quite right. I opened up my app with the course on my phone only to realise my error. I was fuming with myself, damn all that good work through the night given away so pointlessly. As I turned and started running back up the hill a car pulled over. An aid station volunteer jumped out and pointed out my error. She was a lovely lady and continued to run up the road with me and then ahead to give me an idea of where I need to get back on track. I lost a good 30 minutes but figured thems the breaks when you run alone without the extra set of eyes of a pacer. Suck it up and get back into your zone.

I eventually wandered into the Sherman CP and set about quickly replenishing my supplies. The very same volunteer tended to my every need and reassured me I would get back on track. I downed some burrito while she gave my aching shoulders a massage, I could have stayed there a lot longer but got up. As I did I noticed Drew from the running store in Durango set off before me. He must have passed me whilst I was lost down the road. I met him whilst in Durango shopping the days leading up to the race, a mate of Andy’s who was on his 5^th HR looking for veteran status.  I followed him out but was munching on a very dry burrito trying not to choke so I dropped back and hiked instead.

The trail up the water catchment up to Pole creek was stunning in the early morning but tough going. There is no real big ascent but it just keeps biting a relentless upward struggle up the valley. With a quick 4 minute turnaround at Sherman trying to regain lost time I was now struggling to keep Drew within eyeshot. I was determined to catch him figuring the company would pull me along quicker and help with the infrequent trail markers through this section. I soon caught Drew and we chatted for a bit. He was moving well, I struggled to match him. We shared the next few kms taking turns leading the way. At one point we had to wade waist deep though a beaver pond which I didn’t recall from before? Apparently the course was altered here slightly and this was the correct way through. Wet shoes are a constant at HR, so it was no big surprise. In fact the trail here was very damp under foot.

Finally we pulled into Pole Creek as the sun started biting on the second day. I hadn’t taken the time to reapply sunscreen at Sherman so was delighted to see the packed in CP in fact had a large container of it. The volunteers here were great, as usual offering encouragement and geeing us up.

We left together figuring as a team we would make better progress. The last few sections of this course are up high until the drop to Maggies. There were patches of snow to negotiate as well as scary off camber single-track that was ridiculously dry and crazy dangerous should one lose footing.

The wind got crazier as we crested the final climb before the descent into Maggie. I was procrastinating whether to stop several times and tend to some chafing issues when I started to lose ground on Drew. So I decided to pull off trail and spend a few minutes re-lubing. There were far too many hours of running left not to be proactive.

Alone again now I was happy to settle back into my own rhythm and negotiate the crazy descent into Maggie. Quads are pretty fried at this stage so it’s best to not brake at all and roll the descent. Trouble with that is the gradient and dry ball bearing terrain doesn’t allow a no brake type freefall. We were warned about sheep dogs on this side of Maggie as thousands of sheep had been loaded onto the land days before race day. One lady was attacked the week before the race. Luckily the farmer managed to get all of the sheep to the other side of the valley as we came through and they were no issues.

It was hot in the valley at the Maggie CP, and I needed to get out of there quickly. There were runners in all kinds of distress and that was a bad scene to be around. I downed a gel and set off on yet another massive climb up towards Buffalo Boy ridge. 4 mins only at the CP.

Looking at time I was still up on 2010 splits and felt reasonably good. This next section to Green Mtn is up high and can be brutal if the weather turns, luckily apart from a galing wind it was fine. I could spot Drew off in the distance every now and gain as we climbed Green but I wasn’t making ground on him. The benched trails nearing the summit were hairy again with very loose footing and I leaned on my poles for balance numerous times, thankful for the extra balance. I topped out on Buffalo Ridge, another peak bagged, 2 more to go from the 13 in total.

I ran hard down the saddle at Stony Pass before steeling myself for the Green Mtn ascent. The views across Rocky Gulch were superb. The final steep ascent toward the snow cornice atop Green was brutal. The wind was howling as I hit the summit, once more above 13,000ft. No time to hang around I set off for the long descent into Cunningham. I was trying to recall this descent from my 2010 run picturing a steady steep descent straight down the mountain into the aid station. However as I picked my way across the slopes of Green and started out on the descent I soon realised it took a long time, as the footing again was crazy dry and slippery. My quads were screaming at me by this stage, I don’t care what amount of downhill training you subject them to in the months prior they are gonna let you know what you are doing to them is not natural.

It was bloody hot now as a few day trekkers passed by on their ascent mentioning I was halfway down. Really this is crazy, the descent traversing the side of the mountain forever before a sharp right hander finally down the last hill onto the road. I had been taking it real easy on this descent, just as well there were a few runners who came a cropper on it.

Then just as I hit the road I heard a voice yell out my name. I was slightly delusional and began to think I recognised it. Then up in the distance a figure came toward me waving an Aussie flag. It was my partner Sinead, crazily yelling and running towards me. I wiped my eyes disbelieving it was her. We had organised for her to fly in and meet me at the finish line, however Gavin and Rebekah had cleverly offered her a ride to Cunningham, straight after getting off the steam train from Durango. A master stroke, I was rapt to see her so soon. We hugged and then made our way into the aid station where Gav and Bec went into action like well-oiled machines, getting me fed and out of there in 4 minutes. I was super amped now with ‘only’ 9 miles to go and one massive climb in the way.

I stomped my way out the CP, forded the stream and made for the switchbacks up Dive’s Giant. Looking back occasionally I could still see my crew waving me on. The first few climbs passed by pretty furiously as the adrenaline of seeing my partner kicked in. It didn’t last however and I was soon struggling on the final false peaks up towards the summit. This climb is particularly brutal because of the distance into the race and the fact that you can never see the true summit for a long time. But once on top then it is all downhill back to Silverton and that bloody rock J

Again at the top a few day trekkers came past in the opposite direction, looking pretty buggered to be honest, it’s a solid climb from the other side of the pass too. And so the final descent began.  I looked at my watch and knew barring a fall I was looking at a faster finish time than 2010. The first few kms were again very dry and slick under foot and I was taking it real easy, no stuffing it up now so close to the finish. The trail levelled out a bit more as I re-joined familiar trail from our recce runs. Past the old disused mine and the onto the final jeep road. At one point I stopped as I felt I was descending way too many switchbacks, funny how the mind plays tricks despite having covered this section only days before. I was wary after my stuff up at Sherman.

4kms to go at Arastra Gulch and past the familiar old house. I was struggling though as I had stopped eating and was now bonking slightly. Bugger, why didn’t I grab an extra gel or two at Cunningham? I was passed in the final few kms which annoyed me somewhat, so tried to pick it up. It gets real blurry now as the final few kms seemed to take forever compared to our recce runs (of course it does with 160km and 10k of vert in the legs!) Finally I spotted the township of Silverton though the trees, my heart jumped with joy. I was nearly there, the pain would soon stop and so would I.

Crossing the bridge into town I looked back and saw a runner with his pacer making ground on me. Damn do I have to race it in now, c’mon. Sinead appeared again at the intersection, flag in hand. I was delighted to run the last few hundred metres with her, assuring her we were not to be caught by the guys behind. Ah ever the competitor, I couldn’t let another place slip.

And so as low key as it had stated 36hr and 36 minutes earlier I kissed the rock and shook Dale’s hand. It was a beautiful evening and I was so relieved to be finished and delighted with my run.

I thanked my crew and walked into the gym to sit down and take it in. Gav and Bec offering food straight away, always looking after their runner to the end and beyond. Thanks guys, you really helped me achieve that time. I was pretty buggered but so happy to be done. What a run, this is most certainly the toughest race I have ever done and you need to be in the form of your life to do it justice or it will find you out.