(over Dives - Little Giant Pass)
The volunteers at Cunningham asked if we wanted to sit by the fire and I said “not too close” knowing that if I got too warm then I would not want to leave; so I sat down in a chair about 10 feet from the fire as Steve Pattillo brought my drop bag. It's interesting that Steve was here; last year Steve and I spent much of the time between Cunningham and Maggie Gulch together. David had discussed getting some energy drink from his drop bag as we were descending and I remembered that I had a Red Bull in my Drop Bag. Two things happened, however, to make me completely forget that little pick-me-up. The first was David saying we only had 4 minutes in the aid station before we were out of there (he wanted to leave by 11pm) and the second was one of the wonderful volunteers (I forgot to ask her name) started rubbing my neck and shoulders. I couldn’t have asked for a better thing at that point, it really relaxed me and helped me focus. I ate some soup and refilled my bottles (more maltodextrin) and we left. I was really paranoid about the stream crossing since I knew I would get cold so I told David and Fred that I was going to put my tights on; they said “we’ll be climbing, you’ll just get hot” so I just plunged in and shivered for about 5 minutes – after that I was fine…David is an extremely strong climber so I just did what I could to keep his light in sight ahead of me. He would stop every few minutes but Fred was nice enough stay behind me and keep me going. I stopped once and Fred said “just keep moving, you don’t have any time to recover anyway” Man, what slave-driver ;^) After about an hour of climbing I did stop for a bit and Fred said “30 seconds and we’re moving” I decided to start moving before he had a chance to tell me and kept at it. Eventually we caught up with a couple of folks and it turned out to be Keith and Gary Knipling! Gary told us he was out of the race and was helping Keith out. I knew the altitude was going to give him trouble (flying out to CO on Wednesday) but I knew that Keith was an awesome runner, particularly on mountain trails. It turns out that the altitude was a bit more than he could handle on this day. We slowed down long enough to say our hellos and kept moving up the trail. The saddle, seen in a daylight photo by Olga above, which was visible against the night sky, though perhaps we were hallucinating it, didn’t seem to be getting any closer. After about an hour and a half, the terrain started to change. I knew we were higher up in the basin now, nearly at the traverse before the drop, also seen in a daylight photo by Olga above. About 10 or 20 minutes later we were on the traverse and finally reached the downhill. Normally, people look forward to downhills (and last year, going in the opposite direction, I did too…) unfortunately it was not to be the case here…the downhill was SLOW because none of us wanted to risk a serious slip, fall, tumble and go careening off the side into the void below. By this time, however, we knew we would finish well under the cutoff, so slow and cautious was the name of the game. There were a few stretches where at least one of us ended up sitting down and sliding - involuntarily. I think there was actually some ice that we slipped on in addition to the scree. Eventually we made it to the road and our spirits lifted. We saw the lights below us, beacons of those just a few miles ahead of us. As we descended, I would play a constant game of get warm, get cold. I spent too much time dropping back from Fred and David while I either took a layer off or put it back on again. Eventually I just left everything on figuring I was just wasting energy. I kept thinking that it was time to get this thing done! Once we had been on the road for a while, it started to get really old, switchback after switchback. We kept seeing lights below us in the distance (but couldn’t see Silverton yet) We looked up the hill and saw a light coming down behind us, then Liz zoomed by. We asked where Scott was and she said just behind us. Shortly after Liz passed us we came to the creek crossing. As I was approaching, a couple of runners (or a runner with a pacer possibly) passed us, splashing through the water and laughing like a couple of school boys splashing in a puddle after their mother had dressed them in their finest clothes. I tried to keep up but they quickly dissappeared. We just kept going on the trail now, happy to leave the long road behind. This was yet another section where it seemed a lot longer doing it in this direction than it did going the other direction last year. Of course, the closer we were to the finish, the slower we were moving - as opposed to last year where this was right after the start of the race. We passed by the green gate which I remembered some mention of in the course briefing and it kept me motivated to keep moving. Unfortunately, we were just getting to the beaver ponds section, where the trail just kept twisting and turning, seeming to go in circles. I can't remember how long I was on this stretch. I only remember that Gary and Keith had caught up to us and somehow David and Fred dissapeared ahead of me. Again, after what seemed like forever (and sadly I can't remember exactly how long it was which is silly since I kept looking at my watch every minute or two) we made it to town. I was slightly disoriented - I knew we came this way just after starting last year but I just couldn't visualize where we were. Then Gary said something about the public works lot. That was it! Now I knew where we were - the place where they hide the Hardrock between the end of one years race and the beginning of the next years. We crossed the bridge and headed down several blocks; again, more than I remembered from last year. I really wanted to finish, and the longer it took the more frustrated I became. Gary, however, was a calming influence. He was pacing Keith in to the finish. I figured that if Keith could persevere after whatever hardships he had faced, then I could continue without complaining (too much) Keith didn't seem like he wanted to run, so I shuffled on ahead. At this point I was wondering if I had been led astray by some recalcitrant hooligan who had moved the course markings. I actually stopped on Reese street at my vehicle to check out the race book with the course directions. This was really stupid in hindsight but not suprising considering how bad my mood had been the last 5 or 6 miles. Finally I headed down the last block and a half to the high school. There were folks cheering me in, and it was great. Unfortunately I had a really stinky attitude and paused just long enough to kiss the rock and be done. I really should have taken my camera out and asked somebody to take a photo, but I was beyond that. Rebecca (Blake Wood's wife) congratulated me. (I apologized to her at the post-race breakfast about my crappy attitude and she understood, it still made me upset that I wasn't the most polite person at that point.) Dale shook my hand and put the medal around my neck. I thanked him and walked to the gym entrance. I wiped my feet off before entering the gym - this happened to be the thing that Dale remembered about me this year. You see, Dale makes a note about each runner that finishes. When he is handing out the awards, he'll make some sort of comment about each finisher. Last year after I finished, I said "that's that!" - referring to the fact that I had completed yet another thing on my ultra 'to do' list (Badwater in 2006 and Hardrock in 2007) - and Dale mentioned this when he gave me my 'Masters of Mileage' in 2007. This year, he mentioned that I was a real 'class act' because I wiped my feet off before I went into the gym.
The volunteers at Cunningham asked if we wanted to sit by the fire and I said “not too close” knowing that if I got too warm then I would not want to leave; so I sat down in a chair about 10 feet from the fire as Steve Pattillo brought my drop bag. It's interesting that Steve was here; last year Steve and I spent much of the time between Cunningham and Maggie Gulch together. David had discussed getting some energy drink from his drop bag as we were descending and I remembered that I had a Red Bull in my Drop Bag. Two things happened, however, to make me completely forget that little pick-me-up. The first was David saying we only had 4 minutes in the aid station before we were out of there (he wanted to leave by 11pm) and the second was one of the wonderful volunteers (I forgot to ask her name) started rubbing my neck and shoulders. I couldn’t have asked for a better thing at that point, it really relaxed me and helped me focus. I ate some soup and refilled my bottles (more maltodextrin) and we left. I was really paranoid about the stream crossing since I knew I would get cold so I told David and Fred that I was going to put my tights on; they said “we’ll be climbing, you’ll just get hot” so I just plunged in and shivered for about 5 minutes – after that I was fine…David is an extremely strong climber so I just did what I could to keep his light in sight ahead of me. He would stop every few minutes but Fred was nice enough stay behind me and keep me going. I stopped once and Fred said “just keep moving, you don’t have any time to recover anyway” Man, what slave-driver ;^) After about an hour of climbing I did stop for a bit and Fred said “30 seconds and we’re moving” I decided to start moving before he had a chance to tell me and kept at it. Eventually we caught up with a couple of folks and it turned out to be Keith and Gary Knipling! Gary told us he was out of the race and was helping Keith out. I knew the altitude was going to give him trouble (flying out to CO on Wednesday) but I knew that Keith was an awesome runner, particularly on mountain trails. It turns out that the altitude was a bit more than he could handle on this day. We slowed down long enough to say our hellos and kept moving up the trail. The saddle, seen in a daylight photo by Olga above, which was visible against the night sky, though perhaps we were hallucinating it, didn’t seem to be getting any closer. After about an hour and a half, the terrain started to change. I knew we were higher up in the basin now, nearly at the traverse before the drop, also seen in a daylight photo by Olga above. About 10 or 20 minutes later we were on the traverse and finally reached the downhill. Normally, people look forward to downhills (and last year, going in the opposite direction, I did too…) unfortunately it was not to be the case here…the downhill was SLOW because none of us wanted to risk a serious slip, fall, tumble and go careening off the side into the void below. By this time, however, we knew we would finish well under the cutoff, so slow and cautious was the name of the game. There were a few stretches where at least one of us ended up sitting down and sliding - involuntarily. I think there was actually some ice that we slipped on in addition to the scree. Eventually we made it to the road and our spirits lifted. We saw the lights below us, beacons of those just a few miles ahead of us. As we descended, I would play a constant game of get warm, get cold. I spent too much time dropping back from Fred and David while I either took a layer off or put it back on again. Eventually I just left everything on figuring I was just wasting energy. I kept thinking that it was time to get this thing done! Once we had been on the road for a while, it started to get really old, switchback after switchback. We kept seeing lights below us in the distance (but couldn’t see Silverton yet) We looked up the hill and saw a light coming down behind us, then Liz zoomed by. We asked where Scott was and she said just behind us. Shortly after Liz passed us we came to the creek crossing. As I was approaching, a couple of runners (or a runner with a pacer possibly) passed us, splashing through the water and laughing like a couple of school boys splashing in a puddle after their mother had dressed them in their finest clothes. I tried to keep up but they quickly dissappeared. We just kept going on the trail now, happy to leave the long road behind. This was yet another section where it seemed a lot longer doing it in this direction than it did going the other direction last year. Of course, the closer we were to the finish, the slower we were moving - as opposed to last year where this was right after the start of the race. We passed by the green gate which I remembered some mention of in the course briefing and it kept me motivated to keep moving. Unfortunately, we were just getting to the beaver ponds section, where the trail just kept twisting and turning, seeming to go in circles. I can't remember how long I was on this stretch. I only remember that Gary and Keith had caught up to us and somehow David and Fred dissapeared ahead of me. Again, after what seemed like forever (and sadly I can't remember exactly how long it was which is silly since I kept looking at my watch every minute or two) we made it to town. I was slightly disoriented - I knew we came this way just after starting last year but I just couldn't visualize where we were. Then Gary said something about the public works lot. That was it! Now I knew where we were - the place where they hide the Hardrock between the end of one years race and the beginning of the next years. We crossed the bridge and headed down several blocks; again, more than I remembered from last year. I really wanted to finish, and the longer it took the more frustrated I became. Gary, however, was a calming influence. He was pacing Keith in to the finish. I figured that if Keith could persevere after whatever hardships he had faced, then I could continue without complaining (too much) Keith didn't seem like he wanted to run, so I shuffled on ahead. At this point I was wondering if I had been led astray by some recalcitrant hooligan who had moved the course markings. I actually stopped on Reese street at my vehicle to check out the race book with the course directions. This was really stupid in hindsight but not suprising considering how bad my mood had been the last 5 or 6 miles. Finally I headed down the last block and a half to the high school. There were folks cheering me in, and it was great. Unfortunately I had a really stinky attitude and paused just long enough to kiss the rock and be done. I really should have taken my camera out and asked somebody to take a photo, but I was beyond that. Rebecca (Blake Wood's wife) congratulated me. (I apologized to her at the post-race breakfast about my crappy attitude and she understood, it still made me upset that I wasn't the most polite person at that point.) Dale shook my hand and put the medal around my neck. I thanked him and walked to the gym entrance. I wiped my feet off before entering the gym - this happened to be the thing that Dale remembered about me this year. You see, Dale makes a note about each runner that finishes. When he is handing out the awards, he'll make some sort of comment about each finisher. Last year after I finished, I said "that's that!" - referring to the fact that I had completed yet another thing on my ultra 'to do' list (Badwater in 2006 and Hardrock in 2007) - and Dale mentioned this when he gave me my 'Masters of Mileage' in 2007. This year, he mentioned that I was a real 'class act' because I wiped my feet off before I went into the gym.
I had one of Andreas burgers - Andrea has a couple of Hardrock finishes under her belt and each year she puts countless hours into volunteering; the best (in my humble opinion) is that she has a finish line aid station. Like last year, I had one of her hamburgers...and like I told her last year it was the best burger in town, probably the best in the entire state! After talking with a bunch of folks who were hanging out at the finish line watching the race updates, as well as a few other finishers, I took what I needed from my drop bag and had just enough time to get a shower and put on clean clothes before the post-race breakfast. I looked at the updated finishers list handwritten and hung up on the wall and saw my name, my time and my finish place. I looked at Kyle's and it was almost exactly HALF the amount of time it took me to finish. I have been beaten by several hours in most of the longer races I do, but this was the first time I had a time that was DOUBLE the first finishers time!
Of course, I already look forward to next year...the San Juans, the people, the atomosphere...it is all just magical.
46:46:32
46:46:32
2.138275 Miles/Hour average pace
Steve still managed to keep ahead of me, like during the 10k on the fourth. I saw him crest the pass and I looked at my watch. It didn’t look that far but he had made almost 5 minutes on me the last 4 switchbacks. 
I saw Rick Miller waiting on the side of the trail just before the aid station and gave him a high five. Coming in to the aid station I heard that familiar “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” and said hello to Bob Bachani by jumping in the air and clicking my heels – something I started doing this year at Old Pueblo. 
