Hardrock

Well, we did it.

Eighty of us, at least. Sixty people dropped out of the race along the way, which is a large number frighteningly close to 50%, but I don't blame those people for stopping. I wanted to quit many times as well, and nearly did at Ouray. Apparently the conditions on the course were especially difficult this year, with large patches of snow, extended sections of mud, higher-than-normal creek crossings and two extra miles due to a reroute above Telluride. The Hardrock course is everything you've ever heard about it: relentless, steep, painful, dangerous and never-f*#$ing-ending. Every instinct tells us to quit - our bodies are not designed for that kind of savage destruction. But we can do this, so why shouldn't we?

I felt unbelievably fantastic on the first climb (of ten major climbs scattered across the 100 miles), maintained a good pace through 42 miles, blew up above Ouray (mile 56.6), got back on track by Telluride (72.7), got lost before Ophir (82) and merely survived the last twenty miles. I was perpetually appalled at how unbelievably long/difficult/stupid the course was, and whimpered and whined to my pacer for more than half a day. I told him I was done running. That this was too much and could not be possible. I marched in a big circle around the San Juans with some of the most incredible people in the world, yet spent most of the time alone. I fell off a rock and lost a bottle. I was nearly caught by Nick Clark, who had done this to himself only two weeks before at Western States and then had the poor sense to try again with almost no time to recover. What Nick did was nearly as impressive as what Julien Chorier did, running the third fastest time ever on a longer and harder course than ever before. In the end, the finish line was right at the start line, and the best lesson I learned about Hardrock was that the most encouraging sign of progress is forward movement of any kind. The pain will pass and mountains will relent - but discovering that is as rewarding as it is difficult.

As I rest and try to piece together the incredible adventure that was Hardrock, I realize that no other race has ever earned its respect like Hardrock. I dreamed and prepared for this race for years, and the end result was far more than expected. Never before have I disliked running so much during the race, then wanted to sign up for the same ordeal again almost immediately after finishing. The spirit of Hardrock lives on, and will endure as long as people desire a challenge. As I've said before, Hardrock embodies the reason I run ultras. And the reality was even greater than the expectations. I count myself extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to run the race.

Congratulations to all the finishers. I'll see you in Silverton next July.