“How Did You End Up Here?”

I was nervous about taking this trip. My cats had decided to stop eating because I had adopted a new kitten. I feared, in particular, that my diabetic cat had more issues and felt bad imposing on someone to watch him while I was gone, in case he turned for the worse. Luckily the day before I left, he had started to eat. The other hiccup was my one kitty sitter was not available, so I needed to find another person at the last minute. All things worked out and I jumped on that plane to DIA at 5 am. Sleep deprived and nervous, I landed in DIA and drove 3 hours to Salida. I worked that night and then woke up the next morning to drive another 3 hours to Lake City where The Burrows aid station was. I waited for my ride up the pass and assessed the situation. I had gone from the comforts of my home, to staying at a friend’s house, where I packed another small bag to spend the next 2 days in one of the most remote parts of the US.

It was hot, there were a lot of flies. You had to wear a sun shirt because there were so many mosquitoes and flies. Because of the remoteness of the aid station, water had to be filtered from a stream (and this is not the most difficult aid station at HRH), and we had to wait for tables to be delivered from Silverton. I was impressed by the camping set up by most of the volunteers. I obviously had no idea what I was getting into, but I was there for the runners.

As we slowly made introductions. I felt like a fish out of water. A lot of the volunteers had worked this aid station before. I had heard rumors about HRH and how the organization becomes like family, and that is very true. It was amazing hearing the stories of past races. One guy had run it 10x. Another had an interesting story of hiking up Red Cloud and Sunshine only to get hit by lightning. Others had stories of being friends with Killian and making the connection just from being at this aid station. One guy showed me a picture with Courtney Dauwalter as they were also recognized as being a support. I was almost star struck by the people that these people knew.

I was shocked by the remoteness of the aid station with how many cars did drive by. But then, a wedding party drove by. I mean, nothing is impossible,

I decided to sign up for the 1-5 am shift and log the runners as they came in. I knew I was tired and felt I would fall asleep fast enough to wake up at 1 am. Just the only problem was that I wanted to see the elites come running in. I waited until Courtney ran in at 23:24 to finally decide to go to sleep. I felt I am probably never going to get this chance again to see her run in as she made history on this course for this direction. It was worth it to only get 2 hours of sleep. I woke up from the cold truck cab and layered up as the temperature drastically dropped to the low 40’s high 30’s. Welcome to the mountains! The stars were beautiful as there was no light pollution. There was a doe grazing the aid station area all night long. Not caring about us, just eating grass, we were on her land at this point. I got to see a few more elites come in. I will not name names, but I couldn’t believe I was seeing these elite ultra runners at this aid station. Witnessing firsthand how they fueled, how they navigated time, or just how they also struggled on this difficult course.

After being extremely cold, my shift ended, and I retreated to the cold car to warm up and rest a few more hours. I risked missing the sunrise, as I needed to get warm first. FYI, about me, I love sunrises. Unfortunately, when deep in the mountains, the sunrise is more delayed as it is hidden by the mountains. I woke up after 2 hours, refreshed and ready to go.

The morning into the afternoon revealed more runners and how the San Juan Mountains can humble the strongest runners. As time ticked on, we moved from comforting the runners with the available aid, to getting runners on their way as they approached. We slowly started to tear down the tents with keeping the essentials still available. As with any event in the mountains, one must be prepared for a storm. Throughout my time at Grizzly Gulch, several clouds passed through, but no rain came of them. It was not until the last hour of the race that it finally stormed. There was no thunder and lighting where we were positioned, but I would be fearful of anyone up on Handies. As limited as our race reports were, we were able to find out that 4 runners had left the previous aid station and had not gone over Handies yet with time expiring. It is most likely they got caught in the storm and could not move forward.

My time at Burrows and HRH came to an end and I was able to get a ride back down Cinamon Pass to Sherman. I now had the daunting drive of 3 hours back to Salida where I was motivated to sleep in a comfortable bed that night. I was even more happy that my hosts had ordered pizza (with pineapple) for my arrival home that night.

The next day I was able to venture onto the ridge section of the High Lonesome 100 course. I had found out that for my runner, I would be pacing her from Hancock to Monarch which included the ridge. A narrow path that starts above 11,000 ft on the Continental Divide Trail and the Colorado Trail. As I got over the initial fear of heights, I enjoyed the views of the mountain peaks in the distance.

As much as heights intimidate me, I try to remember that I can get through it if I just relax and breathe. I also felt that I wanted to get more familiar with the course and found another part I could run on Monday in the morning. The HiLo course included trail heads that are not easy to get to, kind of like HRH, and I needed something that was easy to access without GPS (because that doesn’t work after too long either). At the runner/crew meeting, Caleb mentioned how the drive time from Cottonwood to Hancock can take 2 hours due to the roads.

The section of the HiLo course I ran on Monday brought me up a fun climb and then onto a beautiful part of the CT that was rolling hills, with more mountain views, a pond, and finally to a descent down a mountain to the next aid station. This is where I turned around. I felt more comfortable with the HiLo course after seeing this section.

The next days, I spent in Salida working. From my time in Moab, I knew that my days would be structured differently as 7 am clients in Pittsburgh are 5 am clients in Salida. I still got up and ran at 4 am when I had clients at 6 am. It was a nice break being done with my day at 6 pm instead of 8 pm. I also found it refreshing to see my hosts after work, as my days can be stressful and I welcomed the distraction Ron and Steph provided.

This time was also an interesting test of what it would be like to move out west. I felt comfortable. I enjoyed the structure of my days. I also even more enjoyed how I really felt more inspired by the area. I was also gearing up for another long weekend at HiLo. It was exciting to think that my weekends could be like this if I did make the move to the mountains.

I am not going to go into great details regarding HiLo. The one thing I cannot express enough is the difference a high mountain race makes. Not only does HiLo offer a lot of vertical climbing and descending, it also has high altitude. High altitude can mean sudden and dangerous storms. High altitude can also mean GI issues. Because of these issues, it is unpredictable what can happen that is out of the runner’s control.

The race started on Mt. Princeton with beautiful views of the sunrise as the race gun went off. Crew was not allowed to access their runners until the Cottonwood aid station which was at 31 miles. This aid station was also not accessible by car. We had to drive to the start to pick up a parking pass when our runners had passed a certain check point on the course. Then we drove to a parking spot and were shuttled by a team of 4x4 jeeps and trucks to the actual aid station.

From Cottonwood to Hancock was a 2 hour drive. Its amazing how when driving in the mountains, your GPS will say 16 miles left with 45 minutes to go. I understand why. The road was narrow and extremely bumpy. We parked as close as we could to the aid station and waited. While waiting, I noticed a lot of people taking pictures. I thought that no one is that excited about the mountain views (as gorgeous as they were). Here there was a giant moose just grazing in the field.

Hancock was an interesting aid station because it was along the Alpine tunnel. I had to google this later. I noticed a lot of the HiLo course went through historic areas of abandoned mining towns or tunnels which makes the history of the area even more interesting.

Driving back from Hancock was probably the prettiest sight as there was an almost full moon. The moon in the unpolluted skies illuminated the walls of Mt. Princeton creating almost a glare as you drove back down the mountainside. As difficult as this course is, I couldn’t get over how beautiful the area is.

The day after the race was spent resting and recovering. I ended up driving to Leadville on Sunday, which gave me a better view of the collegiate mountains and a beautiful drive through Independence Pass. It felt bittersweet as I would be leaving the next day to return home.

This was an amazing trip. Filled with friends, old and new. I think back to that first question of “how did I end up here?” and I really begin to think if it was fate or something I made happen. I think of the networking of people I met over the years, the races I have run, and the chances I have taken. We never know where a path will lead us. Even if at the moment we think we have chosen the wrong path. Things are difficult. Or you feel lost and can’t see the end. It doesn’t mean you are on the wrong path. It merely means you have more of the journey left. As with looking at the base of 14ers. You cannot see the top. What you think is the peak, is really the false summit. This is true with the path we take in life and how our end goals are not always visible.