Why Mongo?

Mongo is my 'trail name'
It all started the first year I attended Coyote Four Play (C4P as it is often referred - sadly no longer held) the folks 'in charge' (HA, more like the inmates running the asylum - the JABOYS, Just Another Bunch of Yahoos - and the best bunch of folks you could ask for to support your trail running holiday) wanted a name to put on our Bowling Shirts (Bowling and Trail Running? Are you kidding me? No, actually, that was part of the 'fun'...) Choosing a name....well, when in the later stages of a 100 mile race, most back-of-the-pack folks like myself can tell you how the brain starts working at the most basic levels; like no really articulate thought. Who better to personify this than good old Alex Karras' adored character (from Blazing Saddles) Mongo! ("Mongo not know, think it have something to do with the choo-choo...") I mean, I can't count the number of times I have had the attitude like 'Mongo hungry' or 'Mongo like downhill'
You know what I mean...or DO you?

Hardrock 100 2009 Putnam to the finish

Mile 94.5 to mile 100.4
Arrived 4:02 am – Kissed the rock 46:02:24
2:26 from Putnam (3:41 total in aid stations)

I knew the Bear Creek (Silverton) trail would be gnarly, having covered it 2 years ago in this direction and also in the other direction last year in the daylight. I knew I was moving slowly, but that my feet weren’t as trashed as 2 years ago. The trail contours along moving in and out of drainages and avalanche chutes; the latter bring with them large boulder fields. There is even a short stretch where you have to navigate thorough a stream of sorts, ducking between tree trunks and branches while dancing on wet rocks. Another interesting thing that I noticed, and others noticed as well, was how there was a sign marking a start of some measurement (I was assuming maybe a ‘1 mile’ sign about a mile later but didn’t see one.)

Since I shuffled through Putnam aid station, I had been hearing voices (or thought I was hallucinating them) for a while until, a couple of miles later, I finally saw a light up ahead. Eventually I caught up to Olga and her pacer/fiancé Larry. I hadn’t seen Olga since she outclimbed me going up Handies (I don’t even remember seeing her descending into American Basin) I asked how she was doing and she said ‘sleep walking’ I said ‘you have to get to the rock and give it a kiss’ she said ‘I am dreaming about it now’ to which I replied ‘you have to do it for real and Dale has to see you do it!’ I knew she would make it and Larry wouldn’t let her stop. I pressed on and told her I would see her at the finish. I didn’t realize until later that she and Larry were 2 of the lights I had seen ascending the final climb; they later said that they saw lightning strike a course marker and turn it into a ‘tootsie roll’ According to the results page, they left the aid station only 5 minutes before I strolled through…and it took me probably 2 miles to catch them, if not more – so much for sleep walking!

I saw another light ahead of me and recognized Rickie Redland, who I hadn’t seen since Pole creek a day and a half before. She asked if I wanted to pass and I said no. I saw her pacer and it was John McManus. Shortly after I caught up to them they made a wrong turn and I corrected them (it seemed there was a good reason I didn’t pass them.)

After another interval that seemed interminably long, the sound of rushing water finally started to get louder, as well as the sound of traffic on 550 and voila, we were at the Mineral Creek crossing. Rick and Liz Hodges were there, just getting ready to cross. I waited for them and Rickie and John then took my turn, since it looked like to rope had gotten a little loose. Of course, the water was deeper now and flowing faster, making an even greater dependence on the fixed rope. We all made it across and started going toward the road when Olga and Larry showed up on the other side. As we were waddling our way through the muck, Liz lost her balance and ended up sitting down (involuntarily) in the muck. I tried my hardest not to laugh and helped her back to her feet. At least we were on the final stretch. We all crossed 550 and started up Nute’s chute, all of us tiptoeing a bit - apparently we were all similarly afflicted with tender and beat-up feet. John led the way, followed by Rickie, he kept getting farther and farther ahead, then Liz and Rick and me. Eventually Liz told me to pass, so I did, staying behind Rickie the rest of the way in.

We were all a happy bunch, Liz congratulating all of us on finishing again; I reminded her that we still had to get to the High School in Silverton and kiss the rock.

Eventually we made the left turn onto the shrine road, only then did it started feeling like we had it ‘in the bag’.

As the road widened out a bit, we all drifted apart, spread out more or less abreast of each other. My periferal vision was getting a bit fuzzy at that point and I started hallucinating that Rickie was running into me, and I almost fell into the ditch on the left side of the road. I apologized to her for jumping around so much. Eventually, Rick and Liz got slightly ahead of me. I was watching their silhouettes in front of me when I swear it looked like Rick had somebody on his shoulders and that person was shining a light back towards me. I shook my head, removed my clear glasses and rubbed my eyes. Eventually I realized that the light, which was just above Rick’s head, was the light from the shrine of the mines! Wow, that was weird; I told Rickie about having a hallucination in that exact spot two years earlier, coming in with Margaret Heaphy. And just like two years ago, there was actually somebody IN the shrine, probably doing maintenance. Right around this time I saw a light coming up fast behind us and was surprised to see Bob Combs! I think he and I had the idea of us all kissing the rock at the same time (and now that I think of it, it may have sounded neat – Robert, Bob, Rick and Rickie all at the same time!) Just then we made the turn onto the trail down the hill into town. As we were on the trail I looked at my watch, noticed that we had about 2 minutes to break 46 hours and said “you know, if we hurry up, we might break 46 hours…” We all sort of felt each others desire to get the race over with and kiss the rock; unfortunately, our simultaneous finish didn’t happen. We all started shuffling down the hill, making the final left turn toward the gym. If felt good to actually move along at faster than a walking pace (the pain just sort of left temporarily while we focussed on finishing.) Bob had managed to move the fastest, almost breaking 46 hours (he missed by about 30 seconds) then Rickie made the turn. I waited for her to kiss the rock then made my way down the ‘tunnel’ of flagpoles that Rodger Wrublik had installed a few days ago (with the state and country flags that normally wave on the perimeter of the track at Nardini Manor during Across The Years) and kissed the rock, amazingly the third time I have done so. Then I got out of the way for Rick Hodges so he could have his turn (which was good to see since he didn’t finish last year.) Dale put the finishers medal over my head (which was a little difficult trying to clear my headlamp) I shook his hand and told him ‘Thank You’ for everything. I immediately sat down on the curb in front of the gym, glad to be done. Somebody asked if I wouldn’t be more comfortable in a folding chair but I kindly declined their offer; I was rollling from side to side massaging my glutes. I don’t know if was the same person or not, but somebody asked if I wanted anything from the grill; I knew Andrea was cooking, and had already confirmed that she would have veggie burgers at the end, so I asked for one. It even had cheese on it. I was surprised at how warm the weather was it was at the end, sitting in front of the gym on the cold concrete; usually I would be shivering. I took off my balaclava and gloves and heard Bob talking to Dale about his encounter with the lightning near-miss; he said the lightning struck so closely that he was knocked over, presumably by the concussion. He said that he was telling me he was O.K. after it happened (I remember a light shining up at me) but I told him that I couldn’t hear anything with the wind howling.

I asked Rebecca if Blake had any Desitin and she said that this year he went with Hydropel instead. I decided my feet could last a few more blocks to the Avon, so didn’t bother with taking my shoes off. I did grab my finish line drop bag, but didn’t need anything out of it, fortunately.

I finished my veggie burger and a slice of pumpkin pie, what a delightful experience. I thanked Andrea for keeping her ‘kitchen’ open for all of us slow folks and left the gym. –-The walk back to the hotel through the empty early-morning streets of Silverton was totally surreal. I saw what looked like a person sitting on the side of the street, I was going to wave and say hello until I was right next to...a motorcycle parked on the side of the road. I shook my head, glad that there wasn't much traffic to contend with.

I had finished Hardrock again, in a PR time (in spite of Mother Nature’s best efforts to slow me down) and had enough time to take a real shower and a nap before the awards breakfast – Wow!

Hardrock 100 2009 KT to Putnam

Mile 88.9 to mile 94.5
Arrived 1:36 am
3:57 from KT, 0 minutes in the aid station (3:41 total in aid stations)

I left the Aid Station with Bob and we caught up with Don Platt, who was wondering where the turn off of the road was…we went a lot further up the road than I remembered before we made the left turn to go down and cross South Mineral Creek. Bob had to pull over and take care of business so he said ‘don’t wait up for me’ I said ‘are you sure?’ and he said ‘Yes’ so I went on ahead with Don close behind. I would get ahead and then arrive at an intersection where I wasn’t 100% sure where to go so waited for Don to catch up, then realized that there were markers there, just on edge (I couldn’t see them with my flashlight until I was right on top of them)

The big full moon illuminated the sky like a carbon copy of the daylight sun, showing more clouds building up. After the next-to-last climb, and a couple of traverses across snowfields (which I was sure I went back and forth across, but realized the footprints were different) I started seeing lights ascending the final climb.

It started to drizzle a little, no problem, I just put on my jacket and everything was just fine. The clouds began to really build up, but no flash so I started the last ascent. Then the flash...I counted and reached '6' before the boom echoed off of the surrounding ridge lines. Well, just a short climb and I'll be past it, right? I started climbing again...another flash. One, two, three, BOOM! Uh Oh! Great, another delay (see, I wasn't worried about the weather so much as how it might cost me a finish... Alright, decision time, hunker down or keep climbing. That question was soon answered for me - flash BOOM! Crap, now it was right on top of me and the rain started comind down in sheets. I was soaked instantly (great, in a lightning storm AND wet!) I decided the prudent thing would be to get down and fast. I retreated down the trail, probably 100 feet in like a minute and a half. I found the closest thing to shelter that I could short of running all the way back to KT; and then I started shivering, great! No problem, this was the mountains and I was prepared! I pulled my balaclava and smartwool gloves out of my pack and put them on (the balaclava over the headlamp) then took my jacket off and unwrapped my long sleeve from around my waist and put it as well, replacing the jacket and cinching up the hood nice and tight. Finally I grabbed the tights that were also wrapped around my waist and put them on. Since I wasn't sure if I would be there for a while, I popped the package of hand warmers I carry and placed one in each jacket pocket. I didn't want to have to wait too long, but if I did, at least I wasn't going to freeze to death (I had a hard lesson in this at the Barkley the first year I was there...)
Finally, the worst of the storm seemed to have moved up the valley and I saw a light behind me; it was Don and he decided that the worst was over and started heading up the climb. I followed, still alert to the weather. The lightning continued for at least the next hour or more, fortunately it was far enough away that there was no thunder, and no danger of getting struck. The sky was still cloudy but the moon was at least providing some background lighting again. I didn't want to fool with anything and waste time so I just stayed with Don until the top of the climb. I asked if he thought we would make the cutoff and he said that it was only 12:30, that we had over 5 hours for the final 6 or 7 miles. Don mentioned that his feet were hurting so he would go slowly, but he would definitely make it. I knew at this point that he would be O.K. so I took off (if you could call it that, it was more like one snail going slightly faster than another snail, at least that's how it felt. I remembered that once we crested the final climb in 2007, we came to bunches of willows on the descent, but it seemed like a long time to get there; it also seemed like a longer time to get to the aid station. I seem to remember that it was just below tree line. I saw tree line but didn't see any aid station. Then I think I smelled a fire, and before long, there was the Putnam Aid Station (manned by John and Marcie Beard, who I had the pleasure of working the trails with) I said ‘I want to check in and out if it’s alright’ They said ‘sure, are you alright?’ and I said ‘yes, I just want to get to Silverton as soon as I can. I don't even know if any other runners were there. They checked me through and I said ‘Thank You’ as I say to all the aid stations I leave.

Hardrock 100 2009 Chapman to KT

Mile 81.9 to mile 88.9
Arrived 9:22 pm
4:02 from Chapman, 17 minutes in the aid station (3:41 total in aid stations)

I finally left the Aid Station about 10 min after Mike Bur, still being paced by his wife Laura; and roughly 5 minutes after Bob - so I was really pushing the uphill to try and catch any of them, hoping that my pace up to Wasatch saddle would hold... I finally did catch up to Bob, just after treeline. The course gets rockier as you leave the trees behind and ascend the head of the rocky canyon.

The sky was clear leaving Chapman, but gradually got darker as the next storm front rolled in - which seemed to have planted itself at the end of the canyon, right above Grant-Swamp pass - our next destination! We looked up toward the pass and noticed others who were waiting it out as well, we saw several folks hunkering down and even thought we could make out Mike Bur, but we weren't really sure. Bob found a nice big rock to hide under while we waited for the loud echoing thunder to cease (or at least for the storm to move off of the pass.) Bob said he would rather wait than get hit by lightning; I agreed with him wholeheartedly. The canyon rumbled and shook from the thunder, for what seemed like a half an hour at least. Eventually, the sky above the pass started to clear. We saw the folks above us ascending and then we decided to continue as well, even though the rumbling continued, further down the canyon from us as the storm moved away...it was at that time I noticed that I hadn't seen anyone behind me since I left Chapman...

Once we reached the base of the last climb (the 300 or so feet of scree to scramble up) we saw a few other runners toward the top of the pass, though I couldn’t be sure who each was – I thought I recognized Bur and his wife. I felt that we could catch them on the climb; we started to follow the traverse that was visible to try and avoid some of the scrambling; it was only partially successful as we kept having to find a better way (at least I did, Bob was below so I was also occupied with trying not to let any rocks fall on him.) I looked back and still didn’t see anybody behind us. I figured maybe they were still hiding below tree line waiting the storm out (the storm seems to have been blowing down Swamp Canyon, so anyone behind us would still be caught while the skies above us were clear.)

After what seemed like forever, Bob and I finally scrambled our way to the top of the pass, only to discover that all of those who we had seen ahead of us on the climb were now long gone on the descent. Fortunately, in spite of the wait for the storm we made it with about an hour, possibly more, of daylight left. We passed by Joel Zucker’s memorial plaque and placed a rock on the pile then got ready for some downhill sliding. I didn’t remember how steep it was to climb this last year until I went down it this year; treacherous footing indeed!

I got slightly ahead of Bob and realized why when I went back to look for him (he was just on the other side of some willows) and he was bent over and hacking. I asked if he was O.K. and he said ‘yeah, go ahead’ so I did, tentatively, to keep him in sight. I've had the hacking cough from the 'crud' before and know that it isn't very fun. I just wanted him to know I wasn't going to drop him.

Just before we arrived at the trail junction where the trail down to Ice Lake creek meets the trail down to the South Mineral campground, we saw a group of backpackers headed up the trail we were heading down (and it was starting to get dark, making me wonder where they were heading…) we asked if they saw any runners ahead of us. They looked at us like we were crazy (runners? who would be ‘running’ here) and then they asked if we knew about that Hardrock race…we said ‘yes, were in that race’ sheepishly, not looking much like we were actually running…we wished them well and continued the descent to ice lake creek.

The crossing at Ice Lake creek is not fun, and actually treacherous enough to turn people back (it happened to Joe Prusaitis two years ago as he had not seen how we put a few logs across during the course marking, that and it was dark…and the loss of his good friend Rick Gastelum was still at the front of his memory) This year, however, the course marking crew had brought some rope with them and lashed several logs together, making a fairly sturdy bridge! Of course, you still had to get your feet muddy to get to the bridge. We crossed, with the sky getting darker, but still with enough ambient light to find our way.

We trudged through the muddy sections, and I remembered the spot where Bill Losey was sitting last year, clearing out his shoes. I knew that eventually we would break out of the trees and onto the shelf that is the Kamm Traverse (KT.) Sure enough, we made it out, the waning light diminishing as we continued along the shelf. Bob and I kept moving down the trail, determined to get to KT aid station before turning our lights on (like I told him I had managed to do the night before heading down into Grouse Gulch aid station.)

It was along this stretch that we started talking about what Hardrock really is. Anybody who has finished knows the feelings that wash over you after you kiss the rock and then again when Dale calls your name and you go up to get your finishers print. I thought about it for a minute and told Bob that what we were doing right at that moment, as well as the 39+ hours before that point, is what it REALLY is all about. Since Bob had finished in the other direction in 2006, he was on his way to becoming a ‘real’ Hardrocker – one who has finished in both directions. He said that what most people think of Hardrock as is ‘camp Hardrock’ the two weeks or so leading up to the event with everyone hanging out, marking course, doing trail work, climbing 14ers, training on or scouting out the course, and generally hanging out with good friends. He said at that point that he probably wouldn’t put in for next years’ race but would be perfectly O.K. with being involved in 'camp Hardrock' once again, job and family committments permitting.

It finally got to the point, after 9th or 10th time we had to traverse mud we couldn't see, that we turned our headlamps on. Just a few minutes later, we were at the end of the traverse and at the junction of the road - and there was KT aid station!

Hardrock 100 2009 Telluride to Chapman

Mile 72.6 to mile 81.9
Arrived 4:52 pm
4:50 from Telluride, 28 minutes in the aid station (ouch!) (3:24 total in aid stations)

I couldn't believe I actually saw Bur and Bob at the aid station!

Linda VanTilborg was there, and as always was most helpful. She applied duct tape to my right heel (the left one seemed alright) I relubed my feet (particularly at the base of the toes, where it was getting wrinkly) with Desitin. I thanked Chip for pacing as long as he did and thanked his wife for letting him 'out to play in the mountains' She smiled, probably knowing there would be no way to keep him from the mountains, especially since they had moved to Colorado!

As I left the aid station, I crossed the open baseball fields on the way to the trail and BOOM! -Lightning struck rather close to Telluride. I stopped under the cover of some trees to wait a bit before continuing. I watched some clouds forming and I swear it looked like they had little tendrils wisping and curling, even intertwining with adjacent clouds like they were holding hands and performing some sort of ritual; ready to unleash some sort of evil on us unwary travellers. After a few minutes, when it seemed to have died down a bit, I continued up the jeep road that is the Bear Creek trail (Bear seems like a recurring theme in these mountains...)

I encountered several tourists, some seemed like they didn't care much about the weather; some asked about the race. I tried to describe it but was reluctant to use the word ‘run’ as not many of us 'back of the pack' folks were actually running much at that point (especially me.)

I caught up to Roger Ackerman, who was looking rather rough. I wished him well and told him that I knew he could do it, especially since he not only finished last year, he finished before me!

There was an orange plastic barricade fence that said "Closed - Do Not Enter" right at the turn off the main jeep road onto the Wasatch Trail, which had course marking before and after it. It was nice that they had the trail 'closed' for the race - two years ago, we had to dodge a woman riding her mountain bike down this trail!

Shortly after turning on to the Wasatch trail, I caught up to Pat Homelvig and Karen Pate. I stayed with them for a while, we were talking and trying to motivate each other, then I pulled ahead. I told them they were doing great. I crossed the bridge at the mine ruins and looked back; as I ascended, they seemed to be farther and farther behind; I was hoping that this was because I was climbing well and not because they were slowing down! (Pat did finish, happily)

I saw people ahead and above me in the distance, so I made it my goal to get closer and closer, hoping I would eventually catch them.

After another stream crossing, there was another orange barricade fence, just like the other one below, "Closed - Do Not Enter", only this one didn't have any coure marking flags. I went around it since it was the only place to go...I did get a little confused, however, after climbing a few switchbacks without seeing markers. The runner and pacer I just passed caught up and I shrugged my shoulders, after the next switchback or two, though, I found the next marker. I yelled “I’m On” knowing that they could probably neither see nor hear me, but hoping they continued on the right course.

After having done this course in both directions, every year when you go in the other direction, the climbs seemed to take a disproportionately longer amount of time that the descents on the same sections; especially the climbs later in the race compared to the descents earlier in the race... I found this to be especially true along this section.

The storm, which could have been part of the same system in Telluride or possibly a new one, seemed to blow away while on the ascent up the canyon but higher up it built again, rumbling in the next valley over from us…I hoped that it would stay there!

As I got to the meadow just below the last climb to Wasatch Saddle, I saw a group up ahead; actually two groups, two runners and their pacers climbing and another runner and his pacer closer to me but stationary, not following the higher group as it looked like they had been up until then. I stopped to see what was going on and it was Rich Hafele (one bib number after me) He said that he was going to drop, and that it will be his first ever DNF. I told him not to say those letters or talk like that; I've had people tell me that in the past and it really wiped me out. I continued on, wishing him well and hoping he would recover between here and Chapman and change his mind before it was too late…

I kept pushing up the hill, finally making it to Wasatch Saddle, and much to my suprise saw the group that was ahead of me was just making it over Oscar's Pass! I pushed as hard as I could, through the snow and rocky traverse. By the time I arrived at Oscar's, I saw Mike Bur and Bob Combs with their pacers only one or two switchbacks below me. Two years ago my feet were hamburger here and I had to tiptoe down (in fact, John DeWalt passed me on this downhill, but John is an excellent downhill runner.) This year, knowing what I was up against, I made sure to fix my feet at Telluride, and it was a good investment in my time at the Aid Station. I couldn't seem to make up any ground on Mike, but it seemed like I was getting closer to Bob. Just before we reached treeline, I caught up to Bob and his pacer, who was going to drop him off at Chapman and get a ride back to Telluride to meet her friends. I figured that I could hang with Bob, so I told her that wouldn't be a problem. It seemed like there were more switchbacks than I remembered from past years, but I finally arrived at the green gate toward the bottom of blixt road. It also seemed like a lot longer from there to Ophir pass road, but eventually I was on the road, with other crews cheering. After a quarter mile or so down the road, there was a bunch of vehicles, with everyone cheering me on and directing me on to the trail on the left. Bob and his pacer and I walked and shuffled into Chapman. I saw Joyce Prusaitis and Barb Hitzfeld here, waiting for Joe (George was pacing Joe from Telluride) and asked how he was doing; they smiled but something seemed like they weren't as optimistic about Joe this year as I had seen them in past years. I couldn't remember how far it was down the trail/jeep road to the aid station; last year they had moved the aid station up to the road where we had just passed all of the vehicles. Finally, there was the big white tent and Chapman Aid Station. I checked in and grabbed my drop bag.

Hardrock 100 2009 Virginius Pass to Telluride

Mile 67.6 to mile 72.6
Arrived 11:21 am
1:49 from Virginius (Kroger’s Canteen) , 51 minutes in the aid station (ouch!) (2:56 total in aid stations)

The first several feet of descent from the pass go straight down loose scree. In the other direction, there would be switchbacks cut into the crumbling hillside, and some of that was still present (and I tried to follow as much as I could) but for the most part, it was faster (not safer, of course) to just bomb straight down.

Eventually, I made it down to what passes for trail, though it is on the hillside, traversing Marshall Basin, and at any time you could take one step forward and some number sideways (which would take you right down the hill - NOT where I wanted to go!)

The trail wound around, we passed the powerlines below us but couldn't see where the Aid Station folks had parked their vehicle. I don't remember any snow this year, as there were several patches to cross in past years; just the same old scree, and, in places, the 'ball bearing' rocks. After another long time to cover a short distance, we came upon Mendota saddle, going through the pass and down some more short switchbacks to traverse Mendota mountain. It should have been going quickly here, with the morning sun warming my body and my spirits, but I started to get hot spots on my heels, so was going down gently. In 2007 I had bombed this LOOONG downhill, and fried my feet; I was going to try and be careful and not do that again. We
passed Liz Hodges, who had paced Rick from either Ouray or Grouse, I can’t remember. Rick had gotten ahead of her and she told him to go on. I figured she probably had a ride at Telluride and would meet him later. Chip and I continued on down the hill, finally reaching treeline, when he told me that he was done at Telluride. I tried to talk him in to going to Chapman or beyond but I think his decision was based more on just how he was feeling or how much more distance he had in his legs...

Eventually, I just had to stop to try to patch my feet. I pulled over to the side and tried, painfully, to sit down. As I was pulling my first aid/patch kit out of my pack, Liz caught back up to us. She asked if she could help but I let her know that I was alright and thanked her for offering. I couldn't really get the tape to adhere to my feet in any way that would have been of use (or would have lasted on the long grind) so it ended up just being a 'sit down' break. We finally started up again, going even slower now since I didn't want to fry my feet. I knew that I could get them patched up well enough once I got to Telluride.

The sun that was so welcome a short while ago was now starting to get a bit too warm. Fortunately, we were in the trees so it wasn't radiating too badly. This also meant that we couldn't initially see the dark clouds rolling in. Once we were closer to Telluride, we could see the dark clouds threatening, but it was still an overall nice day (and I was trying to focus on the positives...)

We passed several hikers and saw one woman, who was hiking with her dog, just ahead of us. I usually try to keep pace with, or preferably pass, anybody in front of me. This woman, however seemed like she was just trying to stay ahead of me; I thought this was unusual since she seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings (which I keyed on from the fact that she didn't acknowledge any 'hello' and that she had the telltale wires of some music player headphones which probably meant she wasn't going to hear much of anything around her...) Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about it as she turned off on to the Jud Wiebe trail just as I was about to pass her. Once we got to the last set of switchbacks before town, we could see the town - and the darkening clouds around town. I was hoping for some cloud cover and really wouldn't have minded a gentle rain, but Mother Nature had a bit more in store, as I was to find out.

There was a volunteer letting us know which way to turn at the bottom of the trail, and he took my number and radioed ahead to the Aid Station. We made the turn onto the long downhill street, the worst part of the downhill for me...the pavement.

As we crossed the bridge, we noticed some kids playing in the water...I may have been a bit warm but I wasn't going to get wet just before stopping. Then, I arrived with all of the folks cheering; it was nice to be there, but I knew I couldn't stay very long.

Hardrock 100 2009 Governor’s Basin to Virginius Pass (Kroger’s Canteen)

Mile 64.4 to mile 67.6
Arrived 9:28 am
1:56 from Governor’s Basin, 4 minutes in the aid station (2:05 total in aid stations)


There was a fire there, I didn't want to get close or I would not want to get away


I didn’t want to leave, so had another breakfast burrito.



Murray Schart caught up to us...it turns out that he was one of the folks wrapped up in sleeping bags on the ground in the tent back in Ouray.