From HURTPALS@aol.com Fri Aug 1 04:06:33 1997 From: HURTPALS@aol.com Date: Fri, 1 Aug 1997 07:02:20 -0400 (EDT) To: stanj cc: 4suzit@neworld.net Subject: HARDROCKS 1997 HARDROCKS 1997 I had lived alone in the Minor's Mansion for a week by the time Suzi (my Evil Twin) and Gene, and Suzi's pacer, Stan arrived on the Saturday before the race. Pre T-Bo entourage invasion, life had been simple, yet intense with the daily 8-10 hour trail marking sessions with Charlie Thorne and anyone else who would join us- usually 15 race entrants, and friends, each day( I missed the first day because of flight delays, and opted to put my drop bags together on Sunday instead- I had overslept my alarm, anyway.) For the first week, it was to Charlie's house by 7AM, and then home by about 7:30PM, for laundry, a shower, a phone call with Big John, then a quick dinner before dropping into bed. I'm glad I had the blind foresight to prepare a big pot of Anne's (my Mom) chili, precut salads, and a few burritos when I first arrived, for I surely had no interest in cooking after the trail markings began! On the "off" days, I was able to spread out all over the spacious "mansion" to set up drop bags without interruption or distraction. But before I knew it, the T-Bo's ( including Catherine & Winfield) and Stan had landed, and the party began (orchestrated by Suzi, of course). Suzi's usual hike of the last ten miles of the course (Cunningham to the Finish) was accomplished easily on Sunday, but not without some adventure through the snow drifts. Dave & Lane Cooper joined us, as well as Mark Williams, Mark Spangler, and Rennie Gardener. Mark S. kindly showed us through the river at our start of the hike, to show us where all the "potholes" were. Before we hardly entered the river, there was Mark on the other side, up to his shoulders and floundering- so, we all avoided that spot. Yes we did. Suzi and Gene were surprised to see how much snow there was, but it did afford us a chance to pratice good foot planting and glacading techniques before the race. Then Handy's Peak the next day, and a tour around the Ouray area the next, to familiarize ourselves with the course on either side of the town. Our reward was a dip in the Hot Springs, and a picnic; we enjoyed deviled eggs that looked like one big squashed egg when we took them out of the cooler. Social events included tours of the Old 100 Gold Mine, the Mayflower Mill, and the County Jail, all of which were fascinating and put us in touch with our surroundings and it's remarkable history of the early miners. Back at the "mansion", we packed and repacked drop bags/crew bags (etc) hoping to achieve the perfect ingredients, laid out in the perfect order that would assure race completion. We were all equipped with Karl's Kaps, and either Karl's Clip, Suceed and/or Amino, which proved to be essential during the race. The best made plans to eat lots of "real" food were thwarted by waning appetites in the 10 to14 thousand feet of altitude- try to chew and swallow with a dry mouth, while hyperventilating up Engineer's ! At last we were set for our race- all packing alternatives now exhausted. THE START From the onset, Suzi and I ( the eeveel twins) were together. We enjoyed the 35 minute jog from the start to Mineral Creek crossing- the warm-up minimized the shock of walking into thigh high (knee high for everybody else) freezing water . At that point, there were many runners around us, but the crowd would eventually thin out by Kamm Traverse aid station. Big John broke down the race for us into 7 sections, to make it seem more manageable; the start to Chapman aid station was our "Good Morning" section. We had been programmed to "run to brunch" at Chapman, where we'd be reunited with our crews for the first time. Short Departure: Each section was to be conquered separately, and put behind us, so we could focus on the next one to come. After all, to try and perceive from the beginning that we would be out there for 48 hours, and that we had so many miles in front of us, would be too overwhelming. And I now have that split record with the seven sections permanently recorded on my personalized HURT shirt, that struts my full name across the front of the shirt, over a replica of our Hawaii license plates (John's is HURT, mine is HURT 2). The back is a spread of the 7 sections, to include the key thoughts, mileage, elevation, and projected times. The shirt forecasted a finish that would coincide with my age of 50 years, 27 days, 23 hours, and 41 minutes.(or, 3:30 AM Sunday morning). We ate and drank as much as we could along the first section, while we marveled at the boundless open meadows. We gazed in wonder at the massive mountain ranges surrounding us- it was breathtaking. I looked forward to the now familiar Ice Lake Creek, which Suzi and Richard showed me in the dark in last year's race. I saw it again this year at the trail marking before our race. I was amazed at how steep the banks actually were, and how swift the creek ran. At the trail marking, I think I did a smart thing to follow Charlie high across the creek, as the logs that were out for last year's crossing looked slippery and more underwater than before. Milan and Chuck can attest to the precariousness of the log bridge- they fell repeatedly in their efforts to get to the other side- and weren't they good sports about it? At least it was sunny, and their clothes dried fast. They set down another log, which we ended up using on race day for a much safer crossing. Back to the race--- Before we would get to our crews, we had to climb over Grant-Swamp Pass. The snow made the traverse up the streambed, and across the upper bowl, relatively easy, as we enjoyed the view of Ice Lake. But when the snow ran out, arghh! A group of about ten of us scrambled through various routes, none of which were pleasant, and totally frustrating nearing the last ten feet to the pass. The very steep scree under our feet seemed to make more headway downhill than our feet made upwards, in our apparently separate races. Yes, we did finally make it to the top, where we reviewed our options for the also steep decent in the snow on the other side. Suzi did not deliberate long, and I had to jump in the snow behind her quickly, in order not to lose her. In my terror I was too hesitant, and she was way ahead of me before long. I glacaded with a little too much speed ( how do you steer this butt??) and took the seat of my wind pants off over a patch of rocks exposed through the snow. No prob; my shorts underneath remained intact. We were able to find the trail down through the woods easily, which lead us at last to the jeep roads bringing us into Chapman. There, we were snatched up by our perspective crews, Big John and Stan. Imagine my delight when I saw John wearing a shirt with my name plastered ostentatiously across the front! That's my John!! The boys backed us into chairs where we were fed and watered. Eileen and Bob , and Nan pitched in, as their runners ( Gene and Rick) had already come through. Just as abruptly, so that we wouldn't get too used to the chairs, we were yanked up and herded towards Oscars Pass. On the way out, John handed me an egg burrito with hot sauce (oh boy) and half of a tuna melt sandwich, which went down nicely as we started our ascent from the aid station. I saved the burrito for my reward at the top ( almost 2 hours later) Both were perfect for the type of cravings I develop in a grueling event: anything wet, a little greasy, salty and protein-y tastes fine. I knew the climb to the pass would be hard- but it was a beast ( I know that's wining- we didn't even have the hot sun as an added element, but a cloud cover and a breeze !) And at the top, the difficulties weren't over yet. More climb followed the pass, now through snow fields cohering somehow to the sides of the slope through the upper basin. Each step had to be planted with conviction, to avoid slipping down the hill. We reached the lovely downhill Wasatch Trail, but not until we passed through several more snowfields that left our legs (well, my legs, anyway) weary. It was a relief to head downhill, although the path was narrow and rocky. We enjoyed the field flowers, which were not as plentiful as last year. However, the waterfall in the lower valley, now twice as full as the preceding year, more than made up for any lack of flowers. Nature always takes care of us. The water was huge, as it blasted out and over the rocks, and overflowed the boundaries of the stream . We had now completed the second section of the course ("Oscar's") and were heading into the Telluride aid station. Once again it was wonderful to head into civilization, and into the loving and attentive arms of our crews. Tired and distracted by all the activity around me, I found it hard to focus on business, which was to eat and get myself out of there. That's why there are crews, I guess. Perceptively, John shoveled pieces of hamburger, and spoonfuls of macaroni & cheese into my mouth, while I sat there with an idiot's gaze(but still smiling). When I "came to", I was up and after Suzi, who showed no mercy. John and all of our friends (Eileen and Bob again, and now Rick, who had dropped out due to an ankle sprain) pointed me in the right direction, and I checked out of the aid station. Motoring after Suzi, I found her ahead with Stan, who was leading her out of the park. We were embarking on the "Houray!!" section, section #3, that would represent a major hurdle in the race. This section would bring us to Ouray, 45 miles into the race, at 10:30 PM, an hour after darkfall. The real race would start from there. We were on our own again, feeling slow, but confident as we climbed upward through the streets at the edge of town, between luxurious homes dressed with ample flower gardens and second story porches. When we hit the trail , locals hiking out from the Liberty Bell Basin Trail were cognizant of our race, and offered a lot of encouragement. That always swelled Suzi's enthusiasm- another chance to "talk story" about our adventure. People were curious and incredulous. This was another very difficult long climb, but more enjoyable through the damp dark forest of evergreens and very tall Aspens , the tops of which glittered in the sunlight they found above. Eventually the forest opened up into the meadows below the Mendota Pass: numerous streams overlayed the slopes, and we refilled our bottles from these, and mixed our concoctions of Suceed and Clip. We could barely sight the specs zig-zagging their way back and forth up the switchbacks to the ridge.To my surprise, there were still many runners around us on the course. Once we reached the ridge ourselves, we had another snowy traverse over to the Virginius Pass, which made a remarkable sight through a narrow cut into the ridgeline. The fingers of snow reached down across our trail and hampered our progress (and froze our feet in the shade that crept over our path). The surface became precariously icy, and the lower edge of the snow patch seemed to disappear into unseen places I didn't think I wanted to go. Suzi turned to me to prepare me for the last little scree climb up to the remote aid station: short, but mean! Yes it was. But I couldn't wait to see the other side, after all the stories. It turned out to be everything, and more, that Richard said. The first thing I did was to look over the edge, and I involuntarily gasped- just a little. I was offered soup, but Suzi said "I'm goin" and I had to follow. Yet, her descent with the rope took long enough for me to swallow a nice warm cup of salty chicken broth, which did a lot to revive me. As soon as Suzi reached the end of the rope, I started down (holding my breath I think) while she continued free-sliding to the bottom so far away. But, before she got there, I was on her back. Even with the hole in my pants, I could slide faster than Suzi now that I was losing my fear. Snow flew up in rooster tails over my legs, and we screamed and laughed our way to a stop. We turned around and waived to the aid station crew, who had been watching us, and they returned the goodbye with their own waves. I couldn't believe how steep the Virgnius descent looked from the bottom- it appeared almost verticle. We continued cross country through the snow, sometimes glacading, sometimes running till we reached the road to Governor's aid station.We were treated royally there, under a warm and lighted tarp. It was always such a treat to see people, and hard to leave them when we had to go. Suzi had to stay to do a blister repair. I knew she would catch me before the end of the road into Ouray (about an hour or so away). She does love to hammer the downhills a little harder than most. So, at Suzi's insistence, I took off at my comfortable pace. This was a special section of the race for me- I was totally alone for the first time, as the blackness moved in. About a mile out of the aid station, I turned on my minimag light. It was quiet, except for the creek that followed me all the way down, and the sound of my own footsteps. I watched the galaxy of stars as I ran, for now the road was wide, and the footing easy. I came to an eerie section where the cliff to my left (creek on the right) rose higher and higher, and soon leaned over me like an ocean wave. Water dripped on me from the top of the dark tunnel, and I found myself hugging the right side of the road. The creek became louder and ominous in the dark. A couple miles from the bottom of the canyon, I was glad to have Joel and Rennie (my new made friends) come up from behind. We all stayed together so we could help each other find the road exit onto the trail into the Box Canyon Falls Park. Before we reached the turnoff, I heard a familiar "oink-oink" and knew that Suzi had caught us.(Evil Twins together again) We ran in together for a very warm reception in Ouray, first by Stan who had been waiting for us on the bridge, and who ran ahead to announce our arrival. I did not know then that the heaviness I began feeling in my lungs would eventually take me out of the race. This was a major stop. Richard suggested that we take a little break here, to take advantage of the lowest altitude on the course, and rest up for the long ascent to Engineer's Pass at about 13,000 feet. I changed shoes and socks, and lathered my feet with more bag balm. John lovingly fed me, and catered to my every whim.I grabbed up warm clothes for the coming night, and my ole friend Diane. Diane and I met in Hawaii, and spent a lot of hours training together on our bikes, running on the road and trails, and in the ocean. She moved to Colorado with Don and dog, and continued her ultrarunning career on a different level, to include burro racing. No adventure great enough! Including last year's Hardrock, which she finished on her first attempt. I couldn't have had a more capable pacer, and I looked forward to catching up on all of the news. Suzi, Diane and I took off from Ouray together, and meandered the streets up to the trailhead. We followed the pipeline to the Uncompahdre River, which we crossed holding on to the rope stretched across. The water was very cold and deep, not quite waist deep as we had been told, but deep enough. Our balance was precarious in the fast downstream current, and we had to step carefully to keep our weight over our feet At the other side, we let Suzi go on up the trail, while I sat down and changed into my dry long tights for the night. I figured we would catch her shortly. As Diane and I shuffled up the steep bank to the road at the Ouray tunnel, I felt more tired than usual. Even when the trail became a little less severe, I struggled to climb the Bear Creek Trail, my windpipes feeling restricted. It became increasingly harder to draw in air. I had good memories of the scenic cliff trail (from the course marking the week before) with it's utterly breathtaking views of the canyon and river far below us. I will enjoy the pictures I took of the sheer dropoffs, but the pictures will hardly tell how it felt to look over the edge for the first time. But my enthusiasm for this spectacle waned, and my steps slowed. By the time we reached Yellow Jacket Mine, I was hearing a kind of whistling sound, the source of which I could not detect- I thought it was Diane passing gas! Then I realized it was my lungs wheezing! Things went from bad to worse, and my pace slowed to crawl. (I felt really bad to do this to Diane again, after not even reaching her at Forest Hill when she came up to pace me at Western States one year.) At this pace, we were freezing, especially after the numerous stream crossings, and the increase in the stiff breeze. We made it in and out of the aid station and pressed on over the top of Engineer's, but the last 500 feet were excruciatingly sluggish- after each step I looked to see how much closer we were to the top. Not much progress! The grass was crunchy under our feet, and the impending sunrise gradually lightened the sky. It was then that I saw the golf ball imbedded in the ground ... really! I was so relieved to get to the top, I gave Diane a big hug, and we zipped up our jackets tighter for the descent. It was disappointing that I wasn't able to run more than 30 steps, without bringing on the wheezing. Diane saw me ,out of the corner of her eye,begin to stagger a bit and came over to put her arm around my waist- we went to the bottom arm in arm, defeated. Rollin Perry came by on his way down , and offered encouragement. We had spent some time together climbing out of Chapman Gulch during one of our trailmarking expeditions. He went on to a finish. So, at 7:30 AM, we met Big John, and signed out. Suzi had left Grouse (Grouch, as we fondly called it) about an hour earlier. I then learned that Gene had to drop out at Ouray. He was offering me mutual condolences at Grouse. Now Suzi was the only official HURT member left in the race. We returned to Silverton for a shower, breakfast, nap, room change, nap, dinner, and final nap before we all headed out to Cunningham at 10 PM, to meet Suzi and Stan (now pacing Suzi) at the aid station. When they came in a little early, Suzi looked very good, but was intense. She knew she probably had it made, but there was still some work to do. We disappeared into a tent for 10 minutes, where Suzi changed into her "Bunnysuit"- she and Stan had gotten pretty cold on the last section. Then, the Countess of Cunningham emerged in all her glory, for her final attack on the course. One more hill, only 12,800 feet- we expected her and Stan back in Silverton in another 6 hours or so. Suzi didn't know it, but ole Stan picked up on Suzi ogling some exceptionally pretty and unique guekko earrings in a little out of the way jewelry store in town. I think she was reluctant to indulge herself, and left the earrings there for the time being. Yes, she would think on that. By the time she decided she needed those earrings, Stan had already sneaked down there and bought them. Fortunately, Stan had discussed the whole matter with the store owner, so he knew what Stan was up to. The three of us walked down to the store one day before the race, Suzi intending to buy the guekkos. To our horror, Stan and I noticed another pair of the same earrings in the cabinet. Suzi explained to the store owner that she was there to purchase these, while Stan and I stood behind Suzi waiving our arms back and forth at the owner. To our relief, he remembered the plan, and told a very devastated Suzi that those earrings were promised. So, back to the race course here- Stan had intended the earrings as a carrot, if it was necessary to get Suzi out of Cunningham where she had dropped out of two previous races. Since that turned out not to be a problem this year, I assumed Stan would spring the earrings on Suzi later- and he tells you about that in his story. What he didn't tell you was that he planned a double surprise. (see end of this story) Diane found a needy runner to pace in, so we left her there and returned to Silverton for a final nap. Unfortunately, we slept right through he alarm set for 4:20 AM. Now it was 4:40, and we woke with a start! To our disappointment, and although it only took us another 5 minutes to get to the Finish line, we had missed Suzi and Stan, and Suzi's surprise- she had carried a HURT shirt all the way from Cunningham, and put it on to surprise us before she finished. Well, we found her lying on her back, in the "Hutt" with her feet propped up on a chair- she looked so happy, we almost forgot about missing her. After a short photo session on the floor, Suzi went back to the "mansion" for a shower and rest, with Gene and Stan. John and I returned to the Wyman House with Diane, where we all rested before the 9 AM awards. We had to send Big John off early, for his flight back to Honolulu. Later in the morning after the ceremonies, Stan and Gene and Suzi and I exchanged gifts- it was then that that ole Stan surprised me the pair of matching earrings, which Suzi and I will wear whenever we get together again.(at the least!) I guess Suzi forgave us- shortly after we returned to our perspective homes, Suzi talked John into sending me over to meet her and Gene, to do the Eagle 100 at the end of August. Bag Balm Bitches on the road again- this time with matching earrings. What next?