Well, for me it was the HR 56, anyway.
This one will be short, I think. I arrived in Silverton 9 days before the race, immediately went to 13000, and did that again twice more before race day. Might not have been enough - I'm still nursing some theories about "what went wrong".
I felt fine before the race, and felt prepared - I had finished a good 50 miler on June 2nd. Because I felt prepared and ready to finish, I was also very nervous. I was very afraid of becoming wacked out on the 2nd day and/or 2nd night and falling off a cliff or just wandering around lost somewhere.
So I found me a pacer for the last 40-some-odd miles, and got to the nitty gritty details of the race: planning apparel, foot care, and drop bags. Race day arrives and I am set. I feel good. I can do this. I meander over the first part of the course at a good pace, hitting KT (12.1) right around 4 hours. I am out in 5 minutes, after getting more drink and a sammich. The next stretch is fun, as I leapfrog with Rollin Perry, one of my Hardrock heroes. Over Grant-Swamp, where I pee on top as a salute to Joel Zucker (who used to drink about a bottle per mile on the Hardrock course). A fun slide down, and I try to catch up to Jennifer Roach. I do not, but it makes me run hard into the aid station, about a half an hour behind schedule. Something is not going well here, I am working really hard and not really going so fast.
The next climb I do very well on - 3000 vertical feet in an hour and a half. I hear later on that that is a very good pace. Maybe it kills me for later - who knows? I run down into Wheelbarrow basin into a black storm, hunching over as I jog, trying not to be a big lightning target. I see no one on this stretch, except when Rollin passes me on the downhill. The gravel wide trail into the town of Telluride is also long and boring and longer than I remember. Then I am in Telluride to refuel, change socks, eat, get my long sleeve shirt, and out again in 10 minutes flat. Well at least my aid station times are good.
Up to Virginius. Geez, why does every section seem longer than I remember it? I seem to be going well, not having to stop or rest, but my pace is abysmal. I feel fine. This really sucks.
I get to the pass a full hour behind 48 hour pace, at 8:45pm. It is just getting dark as I leave to rappel clumsily down through rocks and ice. I make it to the bottom of the third "pitch" just as it is dark enough to really need extra light. I turn on my new Bison light. Very nice. It advertises "at least" a 5 hour burn time. Plenty to get me to Ouray and part way up to Engineer.
Duane Arter passes me on the way down to Governor. Sorry Duane, but I have to say that when this guy passes you, you know you are in trouble. Duane is very relentless and persistent, but he is not fast.
In Governor at 10pm, I eat something and continue on down Camp Bird road, a 7.5 mile boring but runnable stretch into Ouray. I don't really run it, though. Not sure why. About 2 miles down the road, my Bison light, my only light, with my only batteries inside it, dies. Gee this is fun. I panic. Then I stop panicking and keep the light off long enough to let my night vision come on. I can barely make out where the road is going, but at least I am past the rocky part of it. There are tall trees on the sides, obscuring what little starlight I am getting. No moon is out. I tiptoe down the road, gradually getting faster, but never more than probably 20min per mile at best. Once in a while I flick on the flashlight for the 1/2 second at a time it will work before it fades again so that I can reassure myself I'm still on course. Even though I know there are no other roads around here to get lost on. This whole situation costs me at least an hour.
I get to Ouray at 1:30am, about 3 hours behind 48 hour pace. I borrow a flashlight from Marty, one of the aid station guys, and also pick up my new flashlight in my drop bag - a very bright green LED. I leave at 2am, knowing pretty well that I will not make the cutoff of 10am at Grouse Gulch. My only "fun" on this part is crossing the river. It was deep and fast from the day's rain - about up to my mid-thigh. I had to grab the rope with both hands and pull myself across. The stretch up to Engineer is so slow I am not sure what exactly was wrong with me. I was sleepy, yes. I saw phantom runners on the trail, yes. I counted the switchbacks up the first part of the trail (16). But I wasn't really tired or fatigued or in much pain. My feet sort of bothered me, but I had prepared for that reality. I got to Engineer at 8am, just as they were about to set out down the trail to find me. They radio'ed me in, and I heard the Silverton radio guy say, "Well, if she's coherent, she can either continue to Grouse or wait and head in with you guys when you pack up.". Of course I'm coherent! I may be glacially slow, but dammit I am not incoherent.
I leave there also around 8am, and make it to the pass at 9am. I now have a long ways to go down to Grouse. My mind had put it earlier at about 4 miles, but really it is about 6. I am somehow magically hydrated now and I must stop to pee every 15 minutes. About a mile to the Grouse aid station I meet up with my pacer, who is now sadly without a job. My first words to him are "I am so sorry." He escorts me to the aid station, where they kindly offer me a burrito and a coke, as they take down the yurt. I find out that many people have dropped here. It is interesting that so many always drop at Grouse, even when it is only 40 miles into the race. Up to Engineer aid, 113 (out of 117) runners were still in the race. After Grouse, it was 91.
I get a ride back into town with Brad, my pacer, and suggest that he may want to hang out at Cunningham (91 miles) and pick up a runner there. After I have stopped, my knees, which were my undoing last year and so far this year have been mostly quiet, completely go to pieces. I have problems for the next 24 hours just going up or down any step. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped.
I find out that many of my friends have dropped. Emily Loman, Lisa Richardson, Joe Clapper, Ginny LaForme, Susan Gardner, Chris Nute and many many others. This is sad, but I am still in a daze. I didn't purposely drop - they made me stop. That was my goal this year. I was going to keep going until I finished or I was removed from the race. But stopping in that manner makes things seem less real. I am still wearing my race medical bracelet. I am contemplating keeping it on until I get my shit together and figure out how to crack this nut of a race for next year.
Only a few days later I feel almost normal again, except for my lingering fatigue and melancholy. I felt much worse for longer after my 50 miler. I will just try my best to drink and eat good protein, and then start running again in about a week.
See ya'll out on the trails.
Andrea, in ABQ
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