HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER VACATION By Tim Neckar Flashback to July 9th, 1998, 2:22 a.m. I’m sitting at the Ouray Aid Station, mile 57 of the Hardrock 100 Mile Endurance Run. I’ve just been to the bathroom. What I saw just knocked me out of this race. I was urinating blood, known as a condition called hematuria. Oh, I could’ve gone on and suffer permanent kidney damage, but this race wasn’t worth it. I vowed to come back next year as my then girlfriend Melanie (who is now my wife, I’m happily to say), helps me into the SUV. The Hardrock 100 is considered the toughest 100 mile footrace in the world. It begins in Silverton and goes through the towns of Telluride, Ouray, Lake City and back to Silverton. The course will go over 12 mountain passes, all over 12.400 feet. The highest point on the course being 14,048 feet. The average elevation for the race is 11,800 feet. There is over 33,000 feet of ascent and descent. 101.7 miles total. There is only 1/4 mile of paved road. The rest is jeep roads, trails, and cross country. June 28th, 1999, Monday. I arrive into Silverton, Colorado eager to begin the final training for this year’s Hardrock 100. I’m getting here 2 weeks early to get acclimated to the altitude and conditioning of what it will take to finish this race. I’ve done all the pre-conditioning I could in Houston to get ready for this run through the San Juan Mountains. I’ve done endless hours on the treadmill cranking that baby up to it’s highest grade, aisle after aisle of running Rice Stadium, and all the leg weight training to get my legs strong for climbing for the race ahead. The day I arrive I find fellow Texans and friends, Mike Sandlin and Judy Reed from Nacogdoches. Mike is here as well to run the race. Judy is going to be his "crew" person. The next 2 weeks go very well. Mike and I train together the next 7 days doing various 3 1/2 to 5 hour runs on the course. All together we’ve done about 70 miles of the course. We build our confidence as we go to over 13,000 feet passes, plow through snow fields up to our waist, glissade down snow fields (or as we called it the "Booty Slide"), and navigate streams, creeks and rivers to cross. Monday, July 5th was my last day to train. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I rest before the big day on Friday. Melanie flies into Durango on Wednesday. I pick her up at the airport and we begin talking about final preparations and the run itself. Before I left Houston, I made up a time table for Melanie so she will know when to expect me at the aid stations. I’ve already told Melanie I want to finish this thing in under 40 hours. The time limit is 48 hours. Since it takes the leaders just over 30 hours to complete, I figure I can make it in before nightfall Saturday night. I really don’t want to go a 2nd night of running. 40 hours is plenty. I check in to the race on Thursday at the high school. The high school is also the start and finish. Here they take my pulse and blood pressure. I also get my race packet with all the goodies. I casually go to merchandise table looking over all the Hardrock paraphernalia. I tell myself not to buy anything until I finish this race. If I buy now, I’ll jinx myself. After the check in is the pre-race meeting. This lasts an unexpectedly 1-1/2 hours. Everyone is ready to get out of there by the time it is over. Friday, July 9th. Race Day! I get up at 4:15 a.m. I hardly slept at all. You would think that I would have no problem sleeping since I’ve done over 50 ultras. This was different, this was Hardrock. I do all my pre-race rituals in the hotel room of eating, stretching, taping, vaseline-ing, and bathroom duties. Melanie and I walk to high school at 5:40. Waiting for us is my friend and pacer, Ruben Garcia. Ruben will run with me through the night to keep me company and stay awake. I also see Mike and Judy. Mike tells me he has met Tyler Curiel, a Dallas native. We get a group photo shot together to commemorate this day. No one from Texas has ever finished this race. Hopefully, there will be 3 by tomorrow. With 5 minutes to go until the 6:00 a.m. start, everyone is getting last minute photos, hugs and kisses from their loved ones and "Good lucks" from fellow competitors. 10 seconds to go and everyone begins to countdown. "3-2-1-GO!", says the race director. With that, the 110 of us are off on a wild and tough 101.7 mile journey. Mike and I start off together vowing to stay together for comfort. The first obstacle comes at about 1-1/2 miles into the run as I cross the first major creek, Mineral Creek. A lot of crew members are there, including Melanie. Race management has strung a rope across as the current is very swift. We all line up waiting our turn to ford. As I cross the snow melt-off up to my waist, Melanie is taking pictures and saying is isn’t that cold........ HAH! Once I get to the other side and up the embankment, I begin the process of denumbing my legs and feet up the Silverton Bear Creek Trail. This trail will take up to the first pass of the race, the Putnam-Lime Creek Saddle (12,600 feet). This climb is nearly 6 miles. At about 20 minutes into the climb, Mike stops to get some rocks out of his shoes. He tells me to go on as he will catch up later. I pass through forests, an avalanche slide, and finally out of timberline. Once I’m out of timberline, the views are magnificent, and the mountains are breathtaking. Once I hit the pass (7.4 miles), I quickly descend down into the trees, switchbacking back and forth making up time. At 12 miles I again encounter Mineral Creek. At this elevation though it is only ankle-deep, so I skip right across it. Right after the creek, I turn right onto an old jeep road and enter the first aid station--KT(9:22 a.m., 12.4 miles--10,640 feet). I quickly down some Coke, eat a banana, and grab some cookies to eat I as I leave. Just as I am leaving, Mike shows up. He is taking his time so I continue on my own. The next pass is Grant Swamp Pass (12,920 feet). This is relatively a short climb as the pass is only 3.2 miles away. The climb goes pretty well up to about 200 feet from the top. I go through a path of scree. (scree is loose rock and dirt on a very steep mountainside. When you step on it, it gives underneath you) In the path is a snow field about 40 yards across. Some runners have crossed it, some have gone around. I choose to cross. As I get about halfway across, I slip and begin to booty slide down about 50 yards to where it ends. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly get up like it is no big deal and begin crawling up the side of the mountain. Mike and I arrive at the top at the same time. Then he says, "Did a little booty slide, did ya!?" We both then look over to the other side and say, "Ohhhhhhhh Myyyyy Godddddddddd!" The route down is virtually straight down scree. Runners are going everywhere. Mike goes first as I follow. I start down going feet first, then on my butt, then feet, then on my butt. The sequence follows once I’m down to the bottom. Once I get to the bottom its nice trail and jeep road to the next aid station, Chapman Gulch (11:35 a.m.,18.6 miles--10,160 feet). Chapman Gulch is full of buzz. This is where the first time crew members can help the runners. As I enter, I’m looking for Melanie. Usually at these types of runs she pops right up. Since I can’t find her, I assume that she didn’t make it in time. I’m about 45 minutes ahead of schedule, plus the directions here for the crews are vague. I tell myself it’s OK, I’m doing fine without her for now. So I order a roast beef sandwich, a coke, and some more cookies. A volunteer offers to fill up my Camelbak so I oblige. Mike comes in about a minute behind. He doesn’t get the full meal deal like I do, so we head out of the aid station together. The 3rd climb is up to Oscar’s Pass (21.4 miles--13,120 feet). This is a very difficult climb. It’s only 2.8 miles to the top, but boy is it steep. As Mike and I start the climb, he is feeling a low point and lags behind. I’m feeling pretty good as I barrel up the side of the mountain on this very rocky 4-wheel drive mining road. I pass 3 other competitors up the mountain. I small talk to each one of them as I pass them. 2 are from Utah, one from Colorado. They can’t believe a flatlander from Texas is pulling away from them. I tell them not to worry because they will catch me on the downhill. I reach the top of the pass and another breathtaking view. From here I can see Telluride through the basin and valley. Ahead of me is snow! For about 2 miles I encounter snow depth from ankle deep to waist deep. After getting through all this snow down to timberline, it’s a great trail down to Telluride. I arrive at Telluride (2:20 p.m., 28 miles--8,750 feet) a hour ahead of schedule. It feels nice to stop after that long downhill section of 7 miles. Here, Melanie is eagerly awaiting my arrival. She has everything ready for me. Here I change shoes and socks, eat another roast beef sandwich, and down a couple of Boost. I change out Camelbak bladders. During this period she tells me about her adventure to Chapman Gulch and why she was late getting there. I tell her it’s OK that she wasn’t there. A quick smack on the lips and a, "I love you", and I’m on my way. All this only takes 6 minutes. I pass through Telluride ready for my next climb. The 4th climb is to Virginius Pass (33.3 miles--13,100 feet). This is the last climb that I have not been on yet. Everyone I have talked to says this is the toughest climb in the race. 4,350 feet in 5 miles. It is long and steep, but no snow to contend with on this side of the pass. About 45 minutes into the climb, it begins to rain. Not a heavy rain, but just enough to get things wet. The temperature also drops during this time. Luckily, I brought my Gore-Tex jacket and gloves to keep me warm and dry. It continues to rain until I reach Virginius Pass. It takes me 2 hours and 18 minutes to get to the top. It’s 4:50 p.m. Somehow, a couple of volunteers have backpacked an aid station at the top. They have 2 campstoves going. They offer me a hot cup of chicken noodle soup. I take it and sip it beneath a blue tarp they have stretched out to block the wind. The wind is blowing about 15-20 mph. I begin to shiver as the cold wind begins to cool me down. As I finish my soup, I tell the volunteer guy that I am leaving. I know that the downhill is long, 10 miles into the town of Ouray. I leave from the protectiveness of the wind tarp to see the other side of the pass. "Oh sh**", I tell myself. On the downside is nothing but snow and ice until the exit of the basin to the right. There are 3 pitches (pitch - very steep slope) I must booty slide down. The first one is soooo steep there is a rope to grab on to as I go down. I set myself down on the snow, grab the rope, and scoot forward. Immediately I’m zooming down the mountainside. The end of the rope is gone in no time. I continue down about another 5-7 seconds before it flattens out. WHOOO! Was that cold on the hiney! I get up and run to the next pitch. Zoooooom! I booty slide down! No feeling in the posterior now! and go to the next pitch. Zoooom! Then whoops! As I get up, my left leg gets caught in the snow. I’m up to my waist. I’m pulling but the leg is really stuck. It begins to cramp from the cold. I quickly begin digging my leg out. Finally, after about 15 seconds I’m free. I walk/ski down the rest of the pitch which is about 20 more yards. I tell myself that was fun, exhilarating, but scary. You never know if a rock it going to sneak up on you in the snow. If it does, well.......that’s another matter. The 3 pitches are over but I’m still in snow. The next 1/4 mile is tromping through more snow to finally a clearing of solid ground. From this clearing, I converse my way to a jeep road which leads me down to the next aid station, Governor Basin (5:39 p.m.,36.5 miles--10,780 feet). It only takes me 45 minutes to get down to here from Virginius. I spend less than a minute here, knowing that my crew and a cheeseburger are waiting for me at Ouray. The rest of the road to Ouray is nice, steady downhill dirt road for 6.2 miles. I run this part in 1:23, careful not to go too fast and trash out my quads. As I am coming into Ouray, I meet Ty Curiel, the other Texas native. He is going out of Ouray as I am coming in. We "Hi-Five" and say, "Good job", to one another. Here at Ouray (7:03 p.m., 43.7 miles--7,680 feet) my cheerful Melanie is waiting for me, as well as Ruben who will pace me from here through the next 26 miles of the night. Here I change shoes, refill my Camelbak, drink some Boost, and get my cheeseburger. All in 10 minutes. I grab my cheeseburger, kiss Melanie good-bye once again, and walk off into the sunset with Ruben by my side. I eat the cheeseburger through town before hitting the trail on the outskirts of Ouray. Ruben is ready and pumped up. We talk about the previous 43 miles and what lies ahead. I tell him since I am feeling pretty good, I will take the lead for now. We cross the Uncompaghre River very carefully. The river is up to our shorts and the current is strong. Once again, race management has strewn a rope across to get us to the other side. After the river, we go about 1/2 mile on trail until we hit Highway 550. At 550, the Ouray Bear Creek Trail begins and basically so does the 5th climb. From Ouray to the next pass, Engineer Pass(12,910 feet) the climb is 5230 feet in 10.1 miles. From 550, Ruben and I begin to ascend very quickly doing switchback after switchback. On these switchbacks, shale is very prevalent. When you step on shale, it sounds like you’re breaking plates beneath you. It’s a very brittle rock. So we clink and clank along passing 2 to other runners and their pacers. Finally, the switchbacks stop and we are able to run a little. The trail now parallels Bear Creek and it’s rushing waters. Luckily, it is not nightfall yet because this trail section is very dangerous. This trail has been cut out of the sheer cliff. The trail is only about 2 feet wide with a straight drop-off to the right of about 300-400 feet. We get out of this section with plenty of daylight left. Nighttime comes and it’s time to break out the lights. Ruben has a high intensity scuba diving light while I have a miner’s type headlight. The course markers have reflective tape on them and they are very easy to pick out as we scamper along. At about 9:45 we ford Bear Creek to get our feet wet again. From here we are cross-country to the next aid station, Engineer (10:15 p.m., 51.6 miles-- 11,480 feet). When we get to Engineer, there are about 3 runners and their pacers here resting and eating. I can tell that Ruben is getting a little fatigued. The altitude is getting to him. So we spend a couple more minutes here then I would have liked to so he can get a quick rest. We only spend 5 minutes here as I tell him we need to get going. From Engineer it is a slow, serious climb of 2 miles to the top of Engineer Pass. From timberline, we pass through a lot of gushy tundra getting our feet soaked. As we get higher, snow becomes more and more common. Ruben can’t believe I’ve already done 50+ miles of this. His calves begin to cramp and give out on him. He says to go on. Before I leave him, I tell him to just set his target on the blinking red light at the top of the pass. I reach Engineer Pass at 11:05 p.m., eager for the 5.4 mile jeep road downhill to Grouse Gulch Aid Station. On the downhill, my feet are freezing from being wet the last 2-1/2 hours and hurt from the pounding of going down. This lasts about a mile as blood begins to recirculate and warms them up. I pass 2 more pairs of runners in this section. I reach Grouse Gulch (12:36 a.m., 59.2 miles--10,710 feet) feeling very good. Just as I come in, Tyler is going out. He was a welcome sight to see. We high-five each other again as we pass. Melanie is here waiting patiently for me. She asks where is Ruben and I explained what happened to him. Judy (Mike’s girlfriend) and says that Mike is about 45 minutes back and doing good. I have an extended stay here knowing that the next section is long and tough. Here I eat a breakfast burrito from the aid station’s kitchen, a coke, some cookies, and refill my Camelbak. I also change into a long sleeve shirt and running tights. I am here a total of 24 minutes. Just as I about to leave, Ruben shows up. He apologizes repeatedly. I say not to worry about it and just be ready to pace me the last 9 miles this afternoon. I leave Grouse Gulch ready to tackle the toughest 11 miles of the course........ in the dark. There are 2 passes in this section. My goal is to make this 11 miles in under 6 hours. I begin the 6th climb alone. There are no clouds tonight and no moon yet. The stars are spectacular to see. I stop for a minute to take it all in. Beginning just to fatigue a little, I must concentrate more on this rocky trail and to focus on my beam of light. This climb is slow with several switchbacks.. It’s 2.5 miles to the first pass, American-Grouse Pass (13,020 feet). The switchbacks end after a mile and then it is a nice gradual climb crossing a couple of snowfields. The last 300 feet before the pass is straight up. After the climb, I wait for the runner behind me. I figure misery loves company and that we can make small talk for a while to keep us awake. When he gets to me, I tell him to look across the Basin. We see about 10 pairs of flashlights moving ever so slowly over the next 3 miles. Some going down just ahead of us, and some going slowly up the next climb. Having just ran this part of the trail a week before, I tell my newly found friend (who I never got his name but is from San Francisco) that there is a lot of snow across the American Basin. He believes me as we hit snow immediately going down. So for the next 600 vertical feet down, we slip, ski, and booty slide down to the bottom. Across American Basin we go. I slip on the snow, slip on the rocks, and slipping through streams, just making a mess of my legs, even through the tights. It ’s like I am drunk. San Fran is right behind me watching me fall time and time again. Just before we do the next serious climb, we come to Sloan Lake (63.1 miles--12,920 feet). Here at Sloan Lake the race director has put a verification hole punch on a rock. This hole punch is to take sure everyone follows the right path and no one cuts across the snowfields . We find it and punch each other’s race number. The 7th climb is to the highest point of the race, Handies Peak (64.5 miles--14,048 feet). This is a long climb with many switchbacks until we get to the top at which the last 200 feet or so is marked straight up! We arrive at the top at 4:15 a.m. It is still very dark. The moon has finally rose, but it is only a 1/4 moon so it doesn’t light up the sky. Boy!!!!!!!! Is it beautiful seeing it at 14,000 feet. We don’t spend much time at the top because the temperature is in the 30’s and we have to keep moving in order to stay warm. The way down is slow going. We’re basically within a 10 foot range of falling off this ridge in either direction with loose rocks everywhere. We claw, grab, stumble, and slip our way down the mountainside. Finally twilight is upon us and we can go a little bit faster with each minute. When it gets light enough, I tell San Fran to go on if he wants. He does and leaves me going down Up-Chuck Ridge. Up-Chuck Ridge is a portion of the course named after Charlie Thorn, the race course director. It is 600 vertical feet of scree covered in tundra with no trail. I slip and slide on my booty on the way down. After a couple of minutes of this, I turn myself around go down it backwards. Like reverse rockclimbing. It takes longer to do this, but I tell myself I’m saving my quads. I reach the bottom and it is cross-country until I reach treeline. From treeline I run switchbacks to the dirt road which gets me within 2 miles of Sherman, the next aid station. This 2 miles takes forever. During this section I begin to hallucinate. My mind sees people and animals from tree stumps and odd shaped rocks at a distance. As I get closer to any of these, my mind corrects my eyes. I arrive at Sherman (70.1 miles--9,640 feet) at 6:49 a.m. 5 hours, 42 minutes since I left Grouse Gulch. I told Melanie not to come to this aid station because to get here it is at least a 2-1/2 hour drive from Silverton. Judy is here though, waiting patiently for Mike. I made arrangements to have a drop bag here. In the drop bag are dry shoes, socks, and snacks. As I’m sitting in a chair eating, an aid station volunteer comes up behind me and gives me the best shoulder and neck massage for about 3 minutes. Man, it feeeeels goooood! The Camelbak’s weight is tightening up this area. I graciously thank him. This is my lowest mental point of the race. I’m feeling tired, cold, and hungry and unmotivated to go on. As I sit here, I begin to shiver in my own little "pity party". I tell Judy that I want to sit in her car and warm-up. She says, "No problem", and turns the car on. I tell myself, "I’m not going to quit, I’m not going to quit", as my knees begin to ache. I tell Judy I’m going to wait for Mike, who is about 30 minutes back by now. I know Mike will pump me up and drag me out of this warm car. Mike and his pacer Chris arrive and Judy tells him my story. Mike comes over to the car and says, "Boy!.....Get yourself out of that car and lets go!" That’s all he needed to say as I groan getting out of the car. I look at my watch, it is 7:49 a.m. I also look up at the sky. Deep blue without a cloud in the sky. Thinking positive, I tell myself it’s going to be a great day. Just as soon as we leave the aid station, we must cross Cottonwood Creek. Cottonwood Creek has a 2 foot in diameter - 30 foot log across it. Mike goes first as he cautiously shuffles across. I’m next. I’m not so brave though. I get on my hands and knees and skirt across as Mike and Chris are calling me pansy and wuss. I don’t care, I got made it across. Chris is next and has no problem scurrying across. For the next 3 miles we are on nice trail going up switchbacks and crossing Cottonwood Creek 3 or 4 times. The creek has some spectacular waterfalls to see. I lead the way feeling awesome up the climb almost leaving Mike and Chris. We almost get out of treeline when we catch Eric Robinson and his pacer Andrea. We exchange greetings as they let us by. We continue up as we get out of treeline and enter a huge open basin and pass by beautiful Cataract Lake to finally reach the 8th climb, Cataract-Pole Divide (12,200 feet). We continue through the basin going up and down, wading through several streams, and sloshing through lots of mud, and passing by several lakes. We even see an elk! It’s now nearing 10:30 and all 3 of us are thinking we should be getting close to the next aid station. We get eager as we top the crest of each little hill and turn looking for the aid station tent. 11:00 comes, no aid station. 11:15 , still no damn aid station. Finally, at 11:25 we spot it! We arrive at the Pole Creek Aid Station (79.7 miles--11,400 feet) at 11:29 a.m. Just as soon as we stop, flies and mosquitoes dive bomb after us. They’re everywhere. All of the volunteers are wearing long sleeve shirts, pants and hats with mosquito netting around the face. Here I eat a turkey sandwich, and drink some water as I swat away the bugs on my skin before they bite into me. I also apply sunscreen to my neck and face as I can feel the sun’s rays hitting these areas. The flies and mosquitoes are too much to handle and we only spend 7 minutes here. We say "thank you" to the volunteers as we head one step closer to the finish line. The next climb is only 1,130 feet in 4 miles and the next aid station is only 5.5 miles. After about 10 minutes after we leave Pole Creek, I get a semi-low point and begin to hallucinate again seeing people made out of tree logs and stumps. Mike is feeling good and begins to run more and more as I begin to walk more and more. I tell him and Chris to go on without me and that I’ll be OK. Mike is even pulling away from Chris. I run here and there as the climb to the next pass is not very steep, but mostly I walk to the top. I get over the pass (Maggie-Pole Pass, 84.1 miles--12,530 feet, climb # 9) by myself with no problem. As I run down the other side, I can see Mike just leaving the aid station, but Chris is only about 300 yards ahead and walking down the switchbacks. I take on a short term goal to run him down before the aid station. I catch him with about 1/4 mile left. I cruise into Maggie Gulch Aid Station (1:26 p.m., 85.2 miles--11,640 feet) feeling pretty good. It feels good to be getting close to the end. There’s a cute volunteer babe here so being a macho man, I act like I’m not tired and stick out my chest a little more. I sit down and order a roast beef sandwich and a coke. I’m the only runner here and there’ s only 3 volunteers. We talk small talk as I quickly eat. About 3 minutes after I arrive, Chris shows up. He’s going to stop here and hop a ride back to Silverton. It’s been 5 minutes since I got here and I’m ready to leave. I grab some chocolate chip cookies for the road as I say good- bye to the volunteer babe. Cunningham Gulch Aid Station. 6.9 miles away. My next goal. Then 9.6 miles to Silverton. Mike and I did this last 15 miles last Saturday. "I can do it", I tell myself. The #10 pass is Buffalo Boy Ridge (87 miles--13,060 feet). 1420 vertical feet in 1.8 miles. The climb starts out nice along an old jeep road for about 3/4 mile. It then switches to switchback trail for about another 1/4 mile getting steeper. Then the course markers get off the trail and go straight up to a rock outcropping. I am literally climbing on my hands and toes to these rocks. I climb about 5 steps and catch my breath. Then another 5 steps. This goes on for a good 20 minutes, but surprisingly I feel good. I reach the rocks and stop to look at the gorgeous view and at Maggie Gulch below. I run a short saddle to another small climb of about 50 feet going around some snow. I get to the top of Buffalo Boy Ridge in 1 hour, 6 minutes. As I begin a slight cross country downhill, there is a grave to my right. There is a tombstone and cross bearing the name of Tom Greene buried here in ‘95. I hit a jeep road and begin descending down. I pass Buffalo Boy Mine and the Tram Shed. It is a neat sight to see way up here. I try to imagine what is was like working up here in the mines in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. I come down as fast as I can trying to run. It’s hard to run downhill now. My quads are beginning to feel the affects of 30,000 vertical feet of descent and ascent so far. I run for a while then I walk. Then I run for a little while and walk more. Eric passes me running looking graceful as a gazelle. I just tell myself that he’s from California and he trains on mountains. Coming down I begin to develop blisters on both of my 2nd toes. I finally end up walking most of the way to Cunningham Gulch Aid Station (4:23 p.m., 92.1 miles--10,380 feet). A nice man meets me about 1/2 mile from the aid station and asks how I’m doing. He walks with me the rest of the way in talking about the race and this and that. After more than 15 hours of leaving Grouse Gulch, I see Melanie again. She is a welcome sight to see. Ruben and Judy are here as well. Everyone says I’m doing great and looking good. Ruben asks me if I want him to pace me the last 9.6 miles. I say, "You bet I do!" , and he goes off to get ready. I tell Melanie I want to take care of these blisters and change socks and shoes. She takes off my shoes and socks and almost passes out. My feet look like "God knows what" after 34 hours of being continuously wet. She grabs Vaseline and lathers my feet in it. This is the only thing we can do for the blisters now. Meanwhile, I’m eating a ham sandwich, drinking some Ensure and Boost, and I talk about my vow to finish before dark. Somebody refills my Camelbak and hands it back to me. I kiss my honey, and Ruben and I are ready to go with dry socks and shoes. I can smell that finish line. We leave Cunningham Gulch at 4:35 p.m. and immediately we have to cross Cunningham Creek. They’re goes the dry socks and shoes! I hold on to Ruben as I cross not to make any mistake this close to the end. This last climb is going to be hell. It’s 2,000 vertical feet in 2.5 miles. This climb is tough enough being fresh, much less at 92 miles into this race. So we switchback and climb up the trail, switchback and climb. As we come around a switchback, a mini-rock slide out of nowhere begins about 150 feet up to our right. Another runner is right in it’s path. About 10-15 rocks begin rolling down toward him. He gets down in a fetal position and presumably prays. Amazingly, not one rock hits him. We yell up to him and ask him if he’s OK. He waves the OK sign and continues up just as we do. The climb is not as tough as I thought as I pull away from Ruben ever so slightly........until the trail ends and we go straight up once again for about 200 feet. This gets to me as I stop and catch my breath every 10 steps or so. Strangely, I don’t remember this last part on my training run last week. Funny how the mind forgets these little nuisances. Ruben pulls me along the ascent to the top of Devil’s-Little Giant (12,970 feet). It takes us 1-1/2 hours to get here from Cunningham. All I think about now is that it is downhill the rest of the way. We now go cross-country across a saddle to catch the trail down. When we start down we can see two beautiful lakes and the remains of Mayflower Mill and Little Giant Mine directly below us to our left. The trail is cut into the side of scree as it steeply descends. So with each step down we slide a few inches to a few feet. A runner comes up from behind us. As I step aside to let him pass me, I trip and fall down on my left side almost rolling down the basin. Luckily, I catch a rock with my hand that is embedded to prevent a near disastrous fall. The runner offers his hand to me to help me up. I embarrassingly thank him as I outstretch my hand and am lifted to my feet. I tell myself I am too close to finishing to let anything happen. So for the next 1/2 mile of trail left I cautiously concentrate on my foot placement. The 1/2 mile left of trail goes without consequence and we finally hookup with the jeep road that will take us down to our last big stream crossing. I begin to run down the road trying to ignore the pain in my quads. I run for about a mile until I begin to hallucinate one more time. It was scary this time. I was seeing things appear out of my peripheral vision. I’d jerk my head around to see what is was. I was seeing big, tall men, armadillos, and porcupines. Good thing Ruben was in front of me or he’d be thinking I was going crazy! As we were walking, Ruben and I began to talk about the race, ultrarunning in general, and trail runs. He was fascinated by all of this. I think he was enlightened and humbled by this next level of running. We cross to the unnamed stream without incident and now I feel like a horse going to the barn. Only 3.7 miles left! Ruben decides to really push me now as the sun is making it’s way closer towards the mountains. We are clipping along at what seems at 7:30 per mile pace. My lungs are gasping for air, my legs are burning. I don’t care, I just want to finish. I’ve run this last section many a time between last year and this year, always imagining what it would feel like to finish. Now I’m here. We run along a bench elevated about 150 feet parallel to the road that goes into Silverton. We pass beaver dams, numerous streams, and open meadows that give us a view of Silverton up ahead. Then the trail goes back into the woods one final time. We pass a runner and his wife that his pacing him. I fly by like they were standing still. Then we’re out of the woods! Silverton is below! The sun is just now touching the mountains. We come down the trail into town. Only a 1/2 mile to go! A couple of onlookers welcomes us. They say that I am the first runner to be greeted by the town moose that is in a field to my left. I take a quick glance and see it grazing about. "Cool!", I think as I pass by. I tell Ruben to run up ahead to the finish to tell Melanie that I am coming. As I savor this moment through town, people in their cars stop to clap and honk the horns. People on their porches say, "way to go", and "congratulations". Tourists on the streetcorners clap and yell. A man in a Suburban stops traffic as I cross the major road through town. 3 more blocks, just 3 more blocks! I make a left turn onto Reese street where the high school is located. I see Ruben and Melanie waving me on as I run toward them. I make a right turn to the front of the gym and there it is, THE HARDROCK!!! There’s about 15 people cheering me on as I cross the finish line tape. I look at the timeclock as I finish---38:37:53!!! 28th place!!! Then everyone says, "Kiss the rock, Kiss the rock!!" I bend down to kiss it and SMACK! Oops! Melanie didn’t get the picture. Again, SMACK! Oops! No picture. One more time. SMACK! Yes, Melanie gets the picture!! She then hugs and kisses me as I thank her for everything she did. I hug Ruben as well and thank him. "It’s over", I tell myself, "It’ over". (All three Texans finished the run. Tyler Curiel in 34:27 for 15th place and Mike Sandlin in 36:46 for 22nd place. It was a great day for Texas running and for all three of us.)