Here’s my 2 cents on the rockin’ K. The short version is, it was so cold, the words froze as they came out of our mouths, and we had to fry ‘em up at the aid station to find out what we were talking about!
Seriously, in the teens at the start, but fortunately, no wind. That came later, starting about mid morning. Wasn’t cold enough to freeze the half-dozen or so water-crossings, though – most waist-deep on a 6-foot person. Some brave beings forded right through, despite the arctic air. I would have done that, but I didn’t want to disturb the delicate underwater eco-system of the streams, sensitive soul that I am, so I tip-toed across the beaver dams and stayed dry. Got a new nickname for my troubles – “Dam Henry.”
I took a camera out with me to photograph the runners, but the darn thing froze right after my first shots of the start. Also, after the first few miles, I forgot to clear the hose on my hydration pack, and it froze solid. At the aid station 13 miles in, Caleb Chatfield took the pack and thawed it out while I was gone on the 5-mile big bluff loop. That’s the heart of this race, much as Hope Pass is the heart of Leadville. Three gnarly ascents in a short distance that require you to pull yourself up with your hands, using rocks, trees and cuss-words. Very slippery the second time around, because of thawed mud. Gorgeous views up top. So often in the trail-running world it seems torment and beauty go hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?
Results aren’t posted yet, but I came in a few minutes after the 12-hour mark. Local runners Paul Schoenlaub and Kyle Amos finished 2 nd and third respectively (I think) in the 50. Not sure who won it. Paul said a new guy he didn’t know. Not sure who won the marathon. Sarah Sinning ran it, and I’m pretty sure she finished. Marge Hickman was signed up for the 50, but I never did catch sight of her. Ben Holmes and Greg Burger finished the marathon. Greg posted a 5:11 marathon, which is pretty fast for that course. Heard Ben twisted his ankle on the course. Willie Lambert finished the 50, a little after me. He and I both dropped at the 37.5 mile mark last year. I think a lot of 50-milers dropped at the marathon-finish this year because of the cold, windy, conditions, and the smell of hot chili at the shelter house. Sun was out though, so a lot of the mud thawed, even though it still felt cold up on the prairie. The deep canyons were warm, and made me, at least, think about shedding gear. Once back on top, in the wind, I was glad I didn’t. Spectacular hills, vistas and rock formations all around, but if you dared look at them for more than an instant, you risked performing some unintentional Ed-type aerobatics. Trail was tricky.
Ran the entire second loop alone, which is why I think a lot of people dropped. Last year, I saw a lot of people on the second loop. The constant cold, dry wind gave me a nose bleed at about the 40-mile mark. Saw a white tailed deer and a wild turkey. Despite all the beaver dams, I have yet to see a beaver there, after two years. Dan Fisher and his ultra-dog Bart, a german shepherd (I think), were in sight behind me on some of the second loop. Made me feel like a convict being pursued by the sheriff and his dogs. “You in a heap ‘o trouble boy!” The “heap ‘o trouble” part definitely felt true.
As is always the case with Rockin K, the course was well-marked, the support and volunteers terrific. Interesting contrast – sweet, nurturing, supportive volunteers, and a cruel, vicious, life-sucking course. There was every conceivable type of terrain. Sand, mud, hills, snow, ice, rock, bogs, gravel, dirt, grass, hills, hills, water, beaver dams, hills, fences, and hills. If you like the idea of hurling yourself against 50 miles of grueling, brutal terrain non-stop until all that’s left of your God-given mind and body is an involuntary, reflexive walking action – I highly recommend the 50.
Next year I’m doing the marathon.
Gary