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| Map of the start to mile 60, per my Suunto. |
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| Elevation profile and my pace (in blue) from start to mile 60, per my Suunto. The tall blue peaks are aid stations. |
START to LOGAN PEAK (10.5)
We started at the edge of town along roads, climbing from
the very beginning from 4800 to 8100 feet in 4 miles. I recognized many from Hardrock at the race meeting the day
before, whether now running Bear or crewing/pacing or volunteering. I ran into Erich, who was in my course clearing group for Hardrock’s first 27 miles, while in line for the pre-race
port-a-johns; I was certain that he was ahead and would do well. Most were quiet on the climb, hiking
along. With the sunrise came
beautiful and invigorating views of yellow aspen groves between lush and full
pine; none of the scraggly, skinny, half dried pine that fills southern
Colorado. This was a hard course
to keep your eyes moving forward.
Guys around me started getting chatty. They discussed last year where they had
at least four inches of snow the whole race as well as sub-freezing
temperatures overnight. Kevin
apparently ran P2P one week prior.
I asked him if the smoke from the northern California fires affected
their breathing. But then I asked
why running P2P and Bear on back to back weekends seemed like a good idea. His answer had something to do with
previously DNF-ing at Bear, then finishing but not having a good race, and
somehow running P2P was helping him prepare better. (DNF = did not finish.) His injury history matches his current ultra schedule in
frequency and intensity.
Then Kevin asked me “Why did they take Pine to Palm off the
Hardrock list?” This was news to
me. I pondered for a moment.
“Well, we’re only a few miles in, but this seems more
technical. P2P has gentle long
climbs on maintained gravel roads that mining trucks can traverse in the
winter, and only a few of them are super steep or technical. I bet that’s why.”
Little did I know just how foretelling of an answer that was….
After cresting 8100 feet the course wove in a sawtooth over
the Syncline South ridge. Heading
up Logan Peak (>8800 feet) I was marching along with Marcy and then with
Jen. Jen recognized me, and we
realized it was from the Speedgoat 50k back in July. Already this was the most time I’d spent in an ultra with
just females. That was neat.
There was no crew at the aid station. I don’t remember anything about it,
though I probably ate a few watermelon chunks.
LOGAN PEAK (10.5) to LEATHAM HOLLOW (19.7)
After a bit more climbing we descended from 8800 to 5200
feet. I ran basically the entire
descent with Sara, who turns out to be a physiatrist (physical medicine &
rehabilitation doctor) who works with athletes as well as a small rehab
hospital. I had fun comparing
notes about the differences between urban and rural health care. She has a relative in Crestone, CO, and
previously considered Alamosa when looking for a job, but instead headed to
Idaho. I told her she was better
off considering what and how she prefers to practice.
About a mile into the 7.5 mile descent we heard an ATV
behind us. A lot of the course is
over shared trails/access roads, so off roaders and hunters are possibly out
and about. We heard them bottom
out a half dozen times, slowly closing in on us while we picked our way through
the rocks. We didn’t want to turn
around and take our eyes off the terrain, but eventually could hear them
talking and we found a spot to pull over and let them pass. They zoomed past, leaving a big cloud
of dust. Thanks for sharing the road, folks. Later we saw hunters in an ATV climb a portion less
rocky. They looked very confused
to see women wearing running shorts with numbers pinned to our fronts. We waved and continued down into the
canyon, past amazing sheer drop offs as the walls enclosed around us.
Coming into the aid station we ended up in a small train of
three women, though I don’t remember if she caught us or if we caught her. Either way, the crowd gave cheers and
rang cowbells for “The ladies!”
Seriously – I think many people are impressed when they see a female
partaking in any athletic event, regardless of its difficulty.
This was my first time seeing Nathan and Sam, who posted up
before the actual aid station. Sam
refilled my hydration bag while Nathan squeezed a line of sunscreen on my
arms. “Can you rub it in?” I
asked. I just didn’t want it all
over my hands for if/when I had to rub my eyes, because SPF 50 is not so comfy
of an eye wash. Nathan scrunched
his nose and made his lotion face.
He hates lotion, of any kind,
even if he direly needs it. I have chased him around the house with
sunscreen on my hands just to put a quick stripe on his face before a long day
in the Colorado sun. But, he was
on crew duty and he knew it, so he kept the scrunched nose while rubbing it in
with two fingers. I stifled my
smile.
Once set, off to the food table to stuff my face with
watermelon with salt. Sara
introduced her husband quickly as they went off to her own station. I checked out and headed on.
LEATHAM HOLLOW (19.7) to RICHARD’S HOLLOW (22.5)
So far things had played out well, with happy hiking and
downhill easy running. Now it was
starting to warm up. It was gentle
rolling forest roads through camp grounds and cattle. It went pretty quick.
I walked some to let the watermelon settle, then kept to an easy trot. This was a non-crew aid station. More melon. I kind of had to pee, but figured it was the false alarm
that running can cause.
RICHARD’S HOLLOW (22.5) to COWLEY CANYON (30)
Just before I left a volunteer warned me, “This section is
very hot and exposed.” The trail
climbed through the woods. One
some switch backs I heard someone from behind. Another female.
I let her pass. Tried to
place her, but had her name completely wrong. Kristy. She
seemed perky and I wished her well.
Eventually it flattened into a climb that was difficult to visually
perceive, a climb that sneaks up on you.
A stream essed along the trails side, and I pulled over three times to
fill my hat with water and dunk it over my head multiple times. I also caught myself waving to cows as
I passed – something I do at home, since Corset Ranch cattle are all around
areas I run (Del Norte Peak, Twin Mountains, Old Woman Creek). I wondered if anyone saw me waving,
probably questioning my judgment.
(Though, hard to question someone’s judgment when you meet them during
an insane hundred mile run through the backcountry….)
After a couple miles I caught up with Kristy. Her personally is great during an ultra.
Very positive, excited for life and its unknowns, willing to stick her
neck out without worry. Turns out
she is from Aspen, CO, and works in environmental science research and
education. She married a guy from
Long Island, so it was also fun to talk through some NYC things.
The trail gave way to open forest road that led to a large
gravel parking lot in an elevated canyon.
I pulled away from Kristy a bit while enjoying the downhill. It seemed that she climbed faster, but
I had the edge on descents.
This was the second aid station with crew. A guy in an ATV was checking in runners
on their way down, and Nathan was hanging out with him. Nathan jogged into the aid station with
me, giving me updates. He thought
I was fifth woman, assuming he saw them all. Something like an hour behind the lead female. He kept updating me, though I didn’t
particularly care. Either she
(Anna Frost) was going to cream us all, or she was going to blow up late and
I’d see her in an aid station.
I stopped at the aid station to get more water in my
hydration bag. Two guys were
filling it, one holding while the other poured the water. I mowed down more melon with salt. A side glance showed the two fellas
having a ridiculously humorous and floundering attempt to close my hydration
bag. I had the bladder, a slide
top, seated in my bag with the top twist tied to a loop at the top. All they had to do was fold it over and
slide it on. A female volunteer
saw me raise an eyebrow.
“They just don’t know what to do when they see a woman.” Two hashes for my previous point.
Eventually they got it done. Checked out and trotted down to Nathan and Sam posted at the
exit. Sam swapped me a protein
shake for my hydration bag. I
smiled at the bumbling male volunteers as he re-opened my hydration bag to add
some drink mix. I asked for more
sunscreen on my neck and face, since we forgot those parts earlier.
“Aw, Sam, weren’t you
supposed to be on sunscreen duty?!” said Nathan.
“Yea, well, she handed me the bag.”
Groan. But Nathan again dutifully smeared it
in place. This time I smiled.
COWLEY CANYON (30) to RIGHT HAND FORK (37)
I walked the initial climb to settle my full stomach, giving
myself a good ten minutes before deciding if/when to trot. Two-ish miles up, followed by five-ish
down to the next aid station. The
climb was enough, and in the sun, that I did not care. Somewhat near the top I looked back to
see Kristy.
“There’s the mountain goat! Thought you’d catch me.” She laughed.
We crested and continued together, continuing our
conversation. This is by far the
most time I have ever, EVER spent
with females during an ultra. And
I really liked that. Kristy got so
caught up in our conversation that she nearly plowed me over when I slowed to
turn left and the gigantic white arrows and multiple pink flags. The woods started to close in again
during the descent to the aid station.
Two other females passed along this stretch, one with dark hair who was rather
curt and impatient with us, another with a blonde bob who was nicer and seemed
to be using an upswing in energy.
At a point a sign noted the route in multiple
directions. I almost went right
when we needed to do the out-and-back to actually hit the aid station. Luckily Kristy knew to expect
that. Saw lots of guys and few
women headed out (uphill) while we worked our way in (downhill). They all looked hot. We were next to a big creek. I didn’t dunk, but I considered
it.
This was a small aid station, but one with crew. I considered it more of a bonus crew
point, assuming they could make it.
I mainly used it to grab a new chew pack and eat some watermelon. The blonde bob, Amy, sighed loudly,
“This cold watermelon hits the spot!”
I pointed at her and nodded, my mouth stuffed with melon myself. Kristy came by the food table, and I
gave her a high five. Quick
confirmation with Sam that I didn’t need much else, and I headed out.
RIGHT HAND FORK (37) to TEMPLE FORK (45)
Fifteen feet after checking out I stopped at the creek to
dunk three hat-fulls over my head.
Euphoric. I trotted less
than a quarter mile and found another easily accessible spot. Repeat dunking, enough that my shorts
and calf sleeves are soaked and dripping.
Super euphoric.
Trotting along again I looked up to see a certain member of
the ultra running media who was also running Bear. How the heck did he get ten minutes behind me? I waved to him like everyone else. He had dunked too.
Then but a minute later Erich, my tall and long legged friend from
Hardrock course clearing, came through.
We exchanged quick encouragements and pats on the back. He said his plan was to “take it super
easy” during the first twenty miles, but this seemed a bit excessive for
him. He lives in the magical San
Juans where all runs innately include long, steep climbs and descents,
basically variations of the Hardrock course itself. No reason for him to be that far back of me.
Or I was going much too fast. Hmm. That would
be bad. Hmm….
Just before reaching the turn off at the base of the out-and-back
I passed Amy and a man who looked pretty fresh but kind of irritated. Maybe she picked up a pacer? They seemed to be traveling together
but not exactly happy with each other’s presence. I asked how she was doing. “Yea, well, not so good.”
The trees fell away and forest road took a few ess curves
heading up. It was feeling much
more like home. Strong sun, dried
up creek bed, and much more tan with scraggly dull green dots of trees along
the rolling hills. Occasionally a
tree for momentary shady cover. My
pace slowed to a hike what with the heat.
I crossed a small wooden bridge over the absent creek and heard someone
trotting behind me. Turned out to
be Erich.
“How are you running this? Aren’t you dying of heat?” I asked.
He agreed, and we hiked the rest of the uphill. Apparently
he and the certain ultra media member and a few others were chatting when they
got off trail for some two miles.
In doing so they went down a steep road and then had to climb back out
of that road. So technically Erich
should have been four miles ahead of me.
Yup, he could do some good damage on a race like this. But for now he said all goals were
thrown away in lieu of finishing.
He thought if I kept up my pace that I
would finish high for females. I laughed. If only I wouldn’t probably crash and
burn to a certain degree. Again,
it was sarcastic humor that was a bit more ominously foreseeing than I thought. But at the time being, Erich’s setback
meant I had someone to talk to, which was nice.
The climb seemed as long as the others even though it was
only four miles gaining perhaps 800 or 900 feet. Super hot now.
At the top was a personless table covered with jugs of water. I wanted to pour an entire jug over my
head, but settled with two capfuls. It was hard to take only a small amount and leave the rest
for all those behind us. On the
way downhill we continued to jog together. We turned onto a deer trail through ankle high willows to
cut across a small canyon to the road on the other side.
I kept seeing small streams but each time I paused to look
closely they were stagnant, which means more apt to have cow crud of a
multitude of sources festering away.
Then, mercifully, a big and fast flowing creek appeared. We cross the wooden bridge and got as
close as the road would come, cut off trail, and dunked ourselves silly. The water was cold enough that five
hatfuls gave me a little brain freeze.
We happily trotted along downhill.
We passed a decent handful of other runners, also slowed
from the heat. A middle-aged man
who seemed uninvolved with the race saw us jog by, looked up surprised, and
exclaimed, “That’s amazing! Good
job!”
Erich was pretty sure he was talking to me. “What am I, chopped meat?” I told him my theory of being impressed
by females for no good reason.
This could be a 10k and they’d still get excited.
A second man exclaimed the same. “Nicely done!
Way to go!”
“Yup,” said Erich, “he was looking at you.”
“It doesn’t take much.”
We passed a runner walking with his hands behind his
back. Asked if he was doing
okay. “Just taking a scheduled
walking break.” That’s actually
rather smart.
This aid station, Temple Fork, was rather chaotic. Erich pulled over to his family’s car,
saying he planned to stay a while and recoup. I told Nathan and Sam to skip this station since they said
the parking was bad and I would see them in another 6.5+ miles anyways. I sprinkled salt onto honeydew wedges
and devoured. Probably ate the
equivalent of half a melon.
The volunteers were a little less race attuned, so when I
asked what elevation profile to expect they had to look on each others’ shirts
to figure it out. “Three miles up
and three miles down. Not too
bad.” I checked out and turned to
head out.
TEMPLE FORK (45) to TONY GROVE (51.8)
I turned, but then I realized I didn’t know where the course
technically went. I turned back to
the same group with which I checked out.
They read my face. “Down
the parking lot, then cross the road by the cops.” Kay.
That little parking lot was packed with cars on the sides
and had a line of cars in queue waiting for some spot to magically open. It was so tight I had to turn sideways
to get through. From the looks on
their faces I’d guess they had been waiting a while. Definitely glad I didn’t plan to see my crew here.
I thanked the cops as I crossed and jumped onto a little
singletrack trail over a small meadow and then into the woods. The climb wasn’t bad, but I felt the
need to walk. Legs felt a little
stiff. Nothing too bad, but
definitely could use a walking pace for a while.
I heard someone on my tail at a decent clip. Again it was Erich, this time with a
youngster in tow. Turned out to be
his 21 year old son.
“I thought you were going to stay there a while.”
“Yea, well, you know.”
I asked if they wanted to pass. “Eh, doesn’t matter.
Whatever. Sure.” I let them by and realized I wasn’t in
a good mood to keep up. I wanted
to, but legs needed time. Climbed
alone for a while and the trail steepened. The certain ultra media man came hiking from behind. He mentioned looking forward to a nap
at mile 75. I wasn’t sure I’d be
able to wake up again. He asked if
this section was all up. I told
him what I knew, which wasn’t that much, but that supposedly a couple miles
were downhill.
I wasn’t in a rough patch, but I wasn’t climbing fast. The
“three miles up” sure seemed longer than that.
The certain ultra media man, now about 200 feet ahead,
turned to the view at our backs, arms wide and face arched upward
“Wow. It’s just… amazing.”
Clouds were slowly rolling in with an
early sunset palate, which made the rich colors that much more incredible. I
realized I had stopped looking around, and wasn’t sure what to make of the
it. Eating too little? No, I’ve been on schedule. Hydration? That’s been fine too.
Or at least I thought. Another
guy was slowly marching up behind me, though he didn’t catch me by the top like
I expected. As I tried to focus on the beauty of my surroundings it finally donned on me - the race's logo is an aspen leaf. I am a genius. Sheer. Genius.
The trail turned to pine covered groomed trail with some
rocky terrain. I was descending
slowly but still running, or jogging, or whatever one might call it at that
point. I just didn't want to fall. I had fallen so many times already this year that I just did NOT want to fall again, not in this big of a race. The trailing guy
passed. Amy and a couple others
also passed. I told her she
looked good.
“Thanks, but I’m actually cramping.” That’s pretty darn good for cramping.
We went down a handful of switchbacks and swung over to the
edge of a small lake, wrapping around to eventually land at Tony Grove aid
station. I started through the
path straight ahead but was motioned to continue farther. A few paths down a woman sat a
cheered. That looked like a good
possibility, so I turned. Half way
down it a couple dozen people shouted at me to go to the end path. Arms pinwheeled to help turn me
around, feeling a little deflated.
Someone yelled out in the distance, “Could somebody please
mark that?!”
With a sigh I turned down the correct path at the teeny tiny
sign with an arrow and officially checked in. The sky was now gray, temperature starting to drop. Nathan found me and led me to Sam and
my stuff. I plopped down into a
chair. The climb took a lot more
out of me than expected. Instead
of “three up” and “three down” it was actually five miles and 2800 feet up
before two miles down.
Whatever. My own fault for
forgetting the course map and forgetting to make myself a cheat sheet. Think forward. Nathan mentioned other running, like
the lead female, didn’t look too good when they came through either. That was some two or more hours ahead
of me. By my watch I reached the just-passed-halfway point in 11h 40m. That was a hair faster than P2P, and yet I didn't feel nearly so good this time. Maybe there was hope for my sub 25h finish, but I knew the reality that all time goals were out the
window. Just finish.
I asked for a sock change. I could feel similar blisters as to last year, and wanted to
quiet them with a clean pair that I should have swapped out earlier. Volunteers kept offering solid food; I
kept stifling my nauseous face and shaking my head no. Chugged half a Gatorade and had two cups
of warm broth. Opted to carry my
rain jacket and gloves in my pack just in case the rain came early, threw on my
arm warmers. Asked Nathan to
charge his Suunto GPS watch; I had set mine to 50-hour battery life, but none
of the settings were saved and I only had a couple more hours left. I looked up to see a loose train of a
half dozen people continuing on.
Just my luck to probably set out alone again. After another minute I slowly stood, groaning and stretching
to stand erect. Do not stay long. Keep moving.
With another sigh I slowly walked to the check out and toward the next
trail, silently pleading to the cloudy skies to hold off on rain a little
longer.
Pictures forthcoming.
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