Part XII: Cunningham to Silverton

After spending 25 minutes entertaining the paparazzi at the Cunningham aid station, it was off for the final nine miles of Hardrock. Though I had gotten a big shot of adrenaline and was ready to tackle the final climb, my mental prowess was clearly lacking.

“Shit.” I said. “I gotta cross that creek as soon as I leave the aid station. My feet are gonna be soaked the rest of the run.”

Then Katie said, “Hey dumbass, why don’t you wait to put on your socks ‘till you’ve crossed the river.”

That’s the kind of tactical thinking I pride myself on, but it was nowhere to be found right now.

Of course, my zeal to take on Little Giant, climbing one last time up to 13,000 feet, was dampened a bit when Dave (who had paced Neil up and over the pass earlier on) told me, “See that big waterfall [the waterfall I mentioned in part XI]? You go up to the top of it. And then you keep going up for a while longer.”

But hey, I was less than ten miles from becoming an official Hardrock finisher, gaining the fame, glory, and groupies that go with being a member of the club. So I left, shoes and no socks, and crossed the creek to begin the final trek. Continued running until I was out of sight from Christian (who was videotaping me) before I stopped to put on some fresh CRUD socks.

FYI, for the final leg I switched to the La Sportiva Raceblade. For the first 44 miles (Ouray) I had worn my beloved La Sportiva Imogene. I then switched into an old, ratty pair of Asics Gel Attack III for the leg to Sherman. From Sherman to Cunningham I actually wore an old pair of Nike Pegasus. The Pegasus, a road shoe, actually performed fairly well on the rugged terrain. If I ever return to Hardrock though, I’ll probably just use multiple pairs of the Montrail Hardrocks, which would take the constant beating of this race better than any pair of shoes I wore.

Another logistical note. For the final section all I carried was one water bottle. I had carried my three liter camelback with a raincoat, powerbar, map, and various other pieces of schwag for the past 91 miles and it was a huge relief to get it all off my back. My crew objected loudly to this, as they knew one pint of water was not enough to sustain me over the final miles in the current state I was in. But you just come to a point in an ultra where you quit taking in calories and fluids, and I had hit that point long ago (though I had shoved down a lot of food at the Cunningham aid station). I’m a big fan of going as lightweight as possible and am extremely jealous of guys like Tony and Kyle who are quick enough to do entire hundred milers with only a water bottle and a gel.

Anywho, there I am pounding up the final hill. I’m hiking hard too, passing a ton of people. Made me feel good about myself, though in reality I was passing a lot more pacers than actual runners. In fact, not a whole lot of runners went out of the final aid station without a pacer. Melissa would have loved to have made the trip, but for some reason I wanted to tackle the final part by myself.

The sun set about a quarter of the way up the hill. It was a psychological setback for me, as I had told everyone who would listen that I wouldn’t finish if I had to be out there a second night. And I had truly believed that. But there wasn’t anything I could do about that now, so I just kept climbing.

Soon enough, about 85 minutes after I left the aid station, I finally got to the top of the final hill.

I was ecstatic for the next 100 yards or so. Then I faced the final downhill.

Acrophobia. Exposure. Holy crap, was this section dangerous. It would have been hard to do if I were fresh and it was daytime. But it was night, and I was tired as fuck. There were a couple of patches where I slipped and couldn’t stop myself for ten feet or so, the scree just wouldn’t let me dig in. Had those falls been off to the side instead of straight down the path, they’d still be out there looking for my body.

This part of the course took FOREVER! I had to go so slow to stay safe, and to make things even more interesting I was starting to doze off. I was cursing Dave pretty bad here. “That mofo told me this is all a jeep trail!”

After what seemed like another 100 miles, I finally found that jeep road. Remember, most of the jeep roads on this course were very rugged, not just a dirt road. Lots of rocks. And I managed to trip over all of them.

Along the way down here I saw one of the most beautiful Colorado scenes I'll ever see. There was a huge moon out and was illuminating the mountains, and they were reflecting off one of the high altitude lakes in this section. Everyone sees the famous photographs of the Colorado mountains reflecting off a still lake, but how many get to see this at night?

Couple more miles of bombing down this jeep road and I saw a glorious sight – the lights of Silverton! I figured I was almost done and actually picked up my pace.

I soon passed two runners and slowed down to talk with them. It was their first time too, and we were all psyched about what was now a forgone conclusion. I said, “yeah, it looks like another half mile and we’ll be drinking beer!” The reply broke my heart. “Sorry, dude, but it’s at least another 5K. We still hafta head to the ski hut.”

Wow. You’d think after running 97 miles that another 5K would be nothing. But at that time, in my current state, I felt like the guy told me I’d hafta climb Everest first. And that shock took absolutely everything out of me. I was finished. I’d been taking on Hardrock for the past 42 hours and I had nothing left to give. I wanted to stop and sit down, but I knew I’d fall asleep. So I kept walking. Was still able to move faster than the other two, so I pulled ahead. But things were looking bleak. I could no longer concentrate on following the trail, so at any turn I would have to wait for the two to show me the correct way. And I had a real hard time with the final creek crossing, even though it was only ankle deep. I had started to hallucinate, not just visual stuff but having my mind play tricks on me, and I was thinking for some reason that a death by drowning was imminent.

Eventually I got across the creek, and I somehow started running a bit. Sure wish I had video of that because I bet it was something to see. I kept thinking that every root was a snake about to bite me. I was seeing people hiding in the leaves of trees, convinced that they were going to attack me. And every time I came to a bridge, I was positive I had seen that bridge before, and I thought I must have gotten turned around on the course and be running it backwards. Even though this part of the trail was a straight line. To make things worse, the lights of Silverton were visible the entire time. The finish line, so close…

I was sure I was lost and was on the verge of collapse when I ran across an open field and saw a lady there, yelling at me. I was sure that was an illusion too, so I ignored it and continued looking for the next marker. Turns out the lady was the next marker, and she was yelling at me to take a right onto the main drag of Silverton, though to me her lips were moving but I couldn’t understand her. I probably wasted a good two or three minutes (though it felt like hours) looking all around the lady and her van for the next marker, while she was trying to tell me the correct way to go.

Eventually I got the hint, and the next thing I know I’m on a paved road on the way to the school. My body and mind had shut down long ago though, and at every intersection I would stop and try to figure out where to go. Luckily the two runners I had passed earlier were within earshot, and they yelled directions to me.

A couple left turns later and there it was, the finish line. The moment I had been waiting for since January. I crossed the line, kissed the Hardrock, and got my medal from race director Dale Garland. I mumbled something to him about his awesome volunteers, then found Katie and Melissa. I had dreamed about this moment for months, but I was way too exhausted to enjoy it. Katie gave me a beer and I lit a cigar and crumbled to the ground. Christian was there with a video camera and interviewed me, but I’m sure the responses were so mumbled and incoherent that the footage was worthless.

I finished the beer and about half of the cigar when I told Katie, “I need to get to bed, but I won’t be able to find the house.” I was so disoriented from the fatigue that I couldn’t even get back to the house we had rented, two blocks down the road from the finish.

Katie drug me back to the house and threw me in the shower. I guess I smelled pretty rank. Soon enough though I was in bed, as physically beat as I’ve ever been. “Wake me up in an hour, I wanna go see Joe finish” I said to Katie, though we both know that wasn’t gonna happen.