Two years ago I did my first 100M, the Bear. I was cruising along, had just passed the lead woman at mile 80 when I developed a mild case of pulmonary edema ( high-altitude sickness- fluid in the lungs) and slowed to a crawl. After laying down for quite awhile I finally limped in after taking 8.5 hours for the last 18 miles.
Thus, though Hardrock intrigued me, I wanted to get some other 100M's in first to make sure my body could handle the altitude (Hardrock's low point is almost as high as the Bear's high point!).
I chose the Plain 100 for my 2003 race, then it was cancelled by fire and my entry was rolled over to this year (September). Looking for an early season 100 to make up for last year the obvious choice was Western States. But the lottery gods rejected me. The only other early season western 100M I knew about was Hardrock so I prayed (to the real God) for altitude grace and applied and was accepted.
I ramped my miles up from 40mpw to 50 and started doing more hill work. The Diablo 50M (14K gain) followed by Miwok (10K gain) two weeks later helped my quads toughen up, along with runs up Shasta Bally here in Redding (5K gain in 8.5 miles on jeep roads similar to Hardrock's jeep road sections).
In Colorado I spent a couple days running up and down the sand dunes (with wind gusts up to 50mph!) at Great Sand Dunes NP, followed by a backpack trip from Crested Butte to Aspen and back (Maroon Bells). Then I went to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison where I may have become (as best as any of the rangers knew) the first person to do all three south rim canyon routes in one day (three routes, each descending about 2000' in one mile). These are incredibly steep routes with loose scree and dirt and it was a hot day. My elapsed time (road to river and back, not counting time spent at the top or bottom) was 6:06- a nice soft record that at least one fourth of the people on this list could easily shatter.
I arrived in Silverton in time for the first day of course marking. The week and a half of course marking at Hardrock serves several purposes- mainly to get to know the course and to acclimitize to the altitude and especially to enjoy many long hours of getting to know other runners (and pacers and volunteers).
The first day out didn't seem too bad, except for the lightning and thunder (I'm not used to that part!) and sleet but otherwise seemed like a nice little hike that left me thinking, "I can do this".
The weather improved on subsequent days and we all enjoyed getting to see most of the course and sharing stories as our numbers grew daily until there were well over 30 of us going out. At some areas we were greeted by elk herds, often including newborns on wobbly legs. Met numerous other runners (many listers) in town and had a great two weeks of prep. This is what makes Hardrock really unique- the two weeks of acclimitization and course marking we all spend together. If you go to Hardrock, don't miss out on the best part of the experience (yes, even better than the race itself!).
Among the MANY I enjoyed time with were (just a sampling here): Hal Winton, Scott Brockmeier, Steve and Deb Pero, Hans Dieter Weisshaar, Charlie Thorne, John Cappis, Damon Lease, John Dewalt, Chuck Wilson, Matt Mahoney, Cristina Irvin, Kathy D'onofrio, Tom Nyce, Mark and Margaret Heaphy, Kevin Black, Billy Simpson, Melody Varner, Joe Prusaitis, Jim Ballard. All these folk (and many more) and the San Juan Mountains- you can see why Hardrock isn't just a tough race, it's an experience (or as many returnees think of it- summer camp for adults).
Silverton itself is a cool little town, not yet spoiled by gentrification, with lots of cheap places to stay and not a McDonald's or Starbucks or Subway in sight. I was fortunate enough to get offered a free room at the Baptist church, across the street from the start/finish, with hot shower and lots of space. Others found rooms for as low as $20 or campsites for free.
I began the race feeling pretty confident after hiking about 2/3 of the course. Each day I would get up over 12,000 feet before really feeling the lack of oxygen. The only concern was that the day before the race my blood pressure and resting heart rate were both way above normal (140 over 100 and 85bpm!). Also, my nose had been stuffed up the whole time I was at altitude so I wore "breathe-right" strips for the race and (nfi)- at this altitude they were tremendous helps!
My goal was to finish, but i was also thinking about a sub-40 finish though this seemed less likely after this year's course changes were said (by veterans) to add over an hour to the course. My pacer was unable to make it, but I wasn't too concerned about going solo now that I knew most of the route. The race begins by climbing to the "Christ of the Mines" Shrine above Silverton ("go to Jesus and turn left"). I started slow, intent on running only on downhill portions. I headed out in about 90th position of 125 starters and walked a little faster than intended as the pack was moving along at a pretty good clip (better than 3mph). When we finally started heading downhill I moved at a nice smooth easy running pace and passed a few people. The wildflowers were starting to peak and the weather was perfect (and stayed perfect for the whole race, resulting in the record number of 80 finishers).
I hadn't done the Grant's Swamp Pass or Oscar's pass before so these were new to me, though their reputation was known. GSP wasn't too bad, but I was huffing and puffing a lot more than I expected. Oscar's was really tough, so much so that I wondered what I had gotten into. The heavy breathing started, not at 12,000 as on course-marking days, but as soon as we began to climb. Others reported the same. Apparently the lack of oxygen is accumulative and without the opportunity to go home and sleep and recover between sections, each section was going to be tougher (oxygen-wise) than the previous. Oh-oh! We may have to revise some expectations here! The scree slide at Oscar's made me glad that I had gotten good practice on a much worse scree slope at Black Canyon. Pulled into Telluride feeling good, changed shoes and socks, swallowed a Glucerna, stocked up with Cliff Shot and Clip2 and headed up toward Virginius. I was now in about 65th position. During course marking this had seemed like a long, but not terribly hard climb. Today it seemed TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY hard. Where did all the oxygen go? It was here last week? Once again, dark doubts creep into the mind. Adding insult to injury, about 2/3 of the way up, James Miller, who I'd met at the Bear, came cruising up and passed me, relaxed, breathing easy, running uphill. He finished 15th in 36 hours and I doubt if he ever broke a sweat!
On the long downhill from Virginius to Ouray I realized I somehow needed to restock my red blood cells with oxygen. So I decided to speedwalk the whole way, no running. I could walk down the jeep road almost as fast as most people were running, plus: while walking I could take in more oxygen than I used, something I couldn't do while running. I got to Ouray, where the temperature was surprisingly balmy, about dusk and took my time changing clothes and resupplying. I left Ouray in about 70th position, but my strategy paid off, I was able to really fly through the night. Though I walked the whole way, I felt good and went fast and by the time I got to Grouse Gulch 14 miles later I had moved up to 45th and I was feeling great (unlike most people I passed!). This Hardrock thing was starting to look like a "breeze", but first I had to get over 14,050' Handies Peak.
The Handies climb was tough, really tough. But it was tough for everyone. I wasn't cruising past anyone, but no one was gaining on me either- holding my own with the other victims. At Grouse Gulch both Steve Pero and Kevin Black had dropped out with mild pulmonary edema and I thanked God that I had now made it 24 hours without any symptoms. Then, in the last 500' push to the top of Handies, I felt the rasping start- first in my throat, later in my lungs. I hit the top (snow flurries) and headed immediately down to minimize the effects of the altitude. I expected to run to Burrows Park, but I was feeling weak and tired so had to walk all the way into Sherman. Several runners passed me. By the time I got to Sherman at 10AM I was feeling VERY weak, my stomach was nauseous and I had spells of lightheadedness. Hans encouraged me to come with him (we had leap-frogged each other all race) but I could barely respond, much less keep up. I layed down for 20 minutes in hopes of a miraculous recovery. Handies was behind me, but I still had five 12-13,000+ passes ahead of me in the remaining 50K.
I left Sherman, heading up the hill and began coughing phlegm. I felt like I had walking pneumonia and the task ahead, given my condition, seemed impossible. Surely the edema would only get worse as I gained altitude. I turned around and headed back to Sherman, thoroughly dejected, convinced my day was ending in failure.
However... the (wonderful) aid station personnel would hear nothing of my quitting. "Lay down for another half-hour, you still have plenty of time." OK, there will be no sub-40, no sub-42, no strong finish, but maybe, just maybe I can recover enough to make it into Silverton by the 48 hour deadline. I said I wouldn't quit unless somebody told me i had to, so I'll just keep going as long as I can make cut-offs. The secret mental weapon that kept me going: I had bought "Hardrock" wear the day before the race- if I didn't finish I'd never be able to wear it and how would I explain that waste of money to my wife! I left just after noon and somehow made it the 14 miles to Maggie's Gulch by 6pm. Despite two big passes and some gnarly cross-country sections, this is one of the tamer stretches of the Hardrock course. Only one runner passed me all afternoon. I felt like a person with walking pneumonia. Not only could I not run, I couldn't walk fast at all. Just stumble along, glad I had previously built up a pretty good cushion between myself and the cut-off times. I was working twice as hard and moving half as fast. it was no fun.
At Maggie's a gigantic mountain loomed in front of me and, I knew, there was a bigger hill to come later. Could I, in my present condition, do 16 miles and 6000+ feet of climbing in less than 12 hours? I doubted it, but pressed on.
I prayed for help and the first climb was not bad, I had some of my air back. Up on top there is a rolling section with numerous small climbs and these were very tough (apparently I could function OK below 12,000 feet but was pathetic above it). During this section, someone had sent sheep out to graze- hundreds of HUGE sheep, knocking down course markers and all but obliterating the faint route- very surreal at dusk to a person with less than half a functioning brain left! I was using hiking poles for this section, and out there, all alone, at dusk, barely moving along at a slow hike- I kept forgetting that I was in a race and not just out wandering aimlessly through the hills. Sure didn't feel like a race!
On the long gnarly no-trail downhill to Cunningham I fell in behind some other runners (who had just passed me) and forced myself to keep up with them so I wouldn't have to think about route-finding. I slipped into my Teva Wraptor 2 sandals (ahhhh!) and left Cunningham about 10 pm for the dreaded 2600' in 2 miles climb to the top of Little Giant. It was fine until the last 500' when the altitude and the edema and exhaustion and everything else got to me. I was moving soooo slow up the 20+% slope that I was being passed by old ladies with walkers. Every time I looked up the flashlights at the top were as far away as before. 4 steps and rest. 4 steps and rest. Try not to cry. People would try to encourage me along, then give up and move on, leaving me behind. The best thought I had was- "Well, I suppose I enter races like this to see what it is like to feel just like this". Finally, after losing the trail and almost getting lost, I topped out, Hardrock's last climb behind me.
The 6 mile, 3500' descent is gnarly- steep with lots of loose and fixed rocks to trip and slip weary "runners" - very tough when you are mentally and emotionally exhausted and beginning to hallucinate. The oldest finisher, the legendary John DeWalt, 69, passed me at the top of the pass and beat me to the finish by over 20 minutes! I limped in, managing to run the final two blocks (against my better judgment) with Kerry Collings. My feet were wet, the temperature was in the 30s, but I was done! at 3:28AM I kissed the Rock, hung around very briefly, then crossed the street to the Baptist Church with my room, my shower and my bed awaiting.
Three hours later, i woke up, unable to sleep any longer. The awards ceremony was a lot of fun, accompanied by a wonderful breakfast buffet. Good-byes were said and by evening (after our naps!) most of us were gone.
Aftermath: Lots and lots of eating of fatty foods, lots of resting. The bottoms of my feet were very sore, but my muscles didn't feel bad. A week later, I still don't have my energy back. I didn't defeat Hardrock, I survived it. Another few drops of liquid in my lungs and there would have been 79 finishers, not 80. But I learned new lessons about digging down deep and not giving up and that, my friends, is really what it's all about.
Mark Swanson, Redding, CA
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