Our scheduled opening time was around 3:30 am, which was the earliest anticipated arrival based on past times. With the course having so much snow, and being about two miles longer due to a re-route around some rich prick's land in Telluride, we didn't think any course records were in jeopardy. I woke up around one thirty, as I was so paranoid about doing a good job, and being organized when the front runners came through. I drank a bunch of coffee, sliced up some bananas and oranges, and made a few PB&J's. Then I realized I was all wired up and doing too much too soon, and it was likely we would not see a runner for a few hours. Which turned out to be the case. The winner, Julien Chorier, came through about 5:30am, and finished in the third fastest time ever. He didn't even look at us, let alone stop for anything at the aid station. He was a man on a mission. Dakota Jones came through a while later in second. He stopped just long enough to top off his water bottle, said thanks, and he was off. We had radio contact, so we had some idea when to expect the next runners. They were spread out, sometimes by hours, during the morning. I really enjoyed seeing the front runners come through at such a late stage of the race. I had wondered what some of the best ultra runners looked like 94 miles into one of the most difficult mountain races in the world. Nick Clark looked pretty frickin' tired. Having thrown down at the Western States 100 only two weeks prior, and then coming in third at Hardrock, I suppose he SHOULD look a little beat!
As the day wore on I realized how lucky I was with the crew that had come together at this aid station. A couple were good friends already, but most were strangers. Everyone was so helpful and attentive to the runners, and I could not imagine a better crew for that time and place.
The weather at this year's Hardrock was pretty nasty. Lots of hail and rain, along with lightning. Add to that the snow and mud, and it is no wonder only 80 people finished out of 140 starters. Anyone who finishes this race has my deepest respect. Helping runners get through this test was deeply gratifying. I know what it has meant to me to have caring people at aid stations, and it was great to be on the other side. There were so many great moments I can't list them all. So many little things I know mean so much.
I know now, more than ever, that the Hardrock Hundred is a race like no other. A race that is less about racing others, and more about searching within. Running for a really long way in the mountains doesn't change the world. It does, however, change the people who do it, and they might add a little something to this crazy world. Even if it is just a funny puking story.
Here are a few views from the course, taken a few days after the race, while puling course markers.
