The Project - High Five By 55

This bit of writing comes out of a new journey I’ve been thinking about, talking about with a few people, and excited about. I want to document this new journey, writing about whatever might come to mind as I work through it. Maybe I’ll share some of this writing publicly someday. Perhaps it all stays for me. Who knows. 

It’s a big journey, a journey that will be a big physical challenge and an emotional challenge and a kind of rite of passage from youth (nay, middle age) to that which comes after middle age. 

Earlier this year, I paced a friend for many miles at the Hardrock 100 Run. I had an absolute blast being back in the San Juan mountains, hiking and running for miles through that environment and all the different weather, hanging out with other friends who were also pacing and crewing. It refreshed the soul…even while completely draining the body physically. (Being awake through two nights, then trying to sleep on a red eye home the third night will do that!) I was reminded of the power of the San Juan Mountains, the power of being in nature, the power of doing really hard things, and the power of being among a community of people who feel similarly about these things. I was reminded that I wanted to do this again. 

So, I decided I would chase an entry into the Hardrock 100 myself. The race itself; the people involved, the incredible logistical organization, the course; draws me in and makes me want to participate every year. Whether that be volunteering like last year, pacing and crewing like this year, or actually running the race like I hope to do in the future; it doesn’t really matter. Just being involved and a part of it. Hanging out in those mountains is just a soulful and powerful experience. The decision was made. I’d chase an entry into Hardrock, even though it could take 10 years to actually get picked in the lottery. Generally, I’ve not wanted to do the lottery chasing thing, but something connected differently this time. For one, running qualifying races to gain lottery tickets doesn’t feel like a compromise. Many of the qualifying races fit what I want out of the events I participate in anyway. Huge physical challenges in stunning locales which I might not get to were it not for the event. I almost instantly could imagine a line up of races for at least the next five years of lottery chasing: 

- Bighorn 100 for 2024 - it’s near Rapid City, which I visit frequently professionally anyway and I had register to run in 2020 

- Bear 100 

- High Lonesome 100 - this race has been at the top of my list for at least 4 years 

- Wyoming Range 100 - this race was just recently brought to my attention and its remoteness and beauty immediately drew me in 

- Wasatch Front 100 - not a race I’d ever felt a pull to do, but one I’ve heard about often and one that doesn’t feel like a compromise to run 

 And beyond those five years, plenty of other qualifying races capture my imagination even if not quite as deeply as the above five: 

- Mogollon 100 

- Grindstone 100 - eventually I’ll spend more time in the mountains of the East Coast 

Seven years of races and Hardrock qualifying without putting any real thought into it, without any compromise. Races that excite me, that get me ready to do the work. If I don’t get into Hardrock after 7 years, then the decision would have to be made to repeat races or try some of the others that perhaps speak to me less. Either way, that’s a bridge to cross long down the road. 

That would be it. I would chase a Hardrock entry. The idea excited me. I shared it with the friends who were also at Hardrock this year. I am ready to get it done and I am fired up. 

Yet, there was just a little niggle in the back of my mind. Not big. Not dramatic. But it was there. The niggle: finishing Hardrock (while a massive physical and emotional challenge) doesn’t feel out of the realm of possibility. Having finished Ouray 100 last year, I know I can cover the Hardrock 100 course. Having paced this year for nearly half the race and feeling very comfortable the entire way, that knowledge was confirmed. No, finishing Hardrock wouldn’t come free. It will still take tons of work and tons of time and anything can happen when running in the big mountains, but I feel confident that if I do the work and nothing completely unexpected happens, I can finish Hardrock 100. The risk of failure isn’t dramatic. No major learning is needed. That niggle stuck with me even as my brain continued to be excited about the idea. 

Then the big idea struck. The idea that really carries a lot of risk of failure. The idea that is sure to result in me not finishing much more likely than me finishing. The idea: this 7-10 year journey of working my way into Hardrock, spending loads of time in the mountains, building more climbing and descending fitness, figuring out how to navigate better and be safer, how to read mountain weather; this journey would prepare me for a race I knew about and was excited about and also had assumed I should never consider as it was a bridge too far: 

High Five 100 

High Five 100 is not like other big mountain 100 milers. High Five 100 is run in the San Juan Mountains, mountains I’m now becoming fairly familiar with. But it throws out most of the luxuries of more traditional ultramarathons. It is a challenge far greater than anything I have done or will do as I work my way into Hardrock 100. 

For one, High Five 100 has no official course. There are simply a variety of locations (most various peaks and valleys) that need to be reached while circumventing a rough loop around the San Juans. The exact route taken is left to the runner. The distance of the course is about 100 miles, but can be many miles shorter mostly by electing more technical and challenging climbing on some peaks, or can be quite a few miles longer by taking the less technical routes up and down peaks. The runner has to determine the route they wish to take, then navigate that route with no course markings. An extremely daunting thought to this Florida guy! 

And despite no official course, the routes available are very demanding. Five peaks above 14,000 feet. Five peaks above 13,000 feet. Two category 3 climbs on the simpler route. 40,000+ feet of ascent and descent. Off trail sections. Scree. Scrambling. You name it, this race has got it. Spending time out in these mountains to find the ideal route feels like a requirement to me. 

High Five 100 also gets rid of the aid station. There is no on course support. The runner is left to their own devices to move around the course, resupply, and get any needed aid. Crew is allowed. Crew is the obvious solution. Pacers are also allowed during the second half of the race. So a runner doesn’t have to deal with entire solitariness, but is out on their own in a way not true at most other ultramarathons. Crew and pacer selection are obviously wildly important. Both for their knowledge of being in the mountains and for their ability to think for the runner in those rare crucial moments they get to be together. And for their ability to actually navigate from crewing location to crewing location, not a small task at all. 

And the final kicker, while getting rid of many of the “luxuries” of most ultramarathons, some of the pressures remain. Cut-offs at some required locations. A 48 hour finish limit. 48 hours feels like plenty. But it took me 49 hours to finish Ouray 100, which had less altitude exposure and a well marked course and loads and loads of on course aid. 48 hours feels daunting. 

So, the big idea was a REALLY big idea. With a really high likelihood of failure. But it transformed my pursuit of Hardrock from something that was exciting and fun to something that is building to a massive final goal. This would all become a huge, huge journey to once again test myself deeply and find out what I’m really made of. There will be so much to learn and so much to discover along the way. 

As I’ve thought about this, I’ve also realized it will become a journey of passage for me. 10 years from now, I will be 55 years old. The move from 45 to 55 feels like a significant journey from something still connected to youth (even as those connections feel really tenuous right now) to something completely in its own space. Out of mid-life and into that which follows. I expect this part of the journey to be as powerful and insightful if I am very conscious and deliberate about it as will be the physical and learning journey. At 55, I’ll be a year away from the age my father was when he died. I hope to arrive at that age in a far different place both physically and emotionally than he was. 

I am excited. This is a long journey. There will be ebbs and waves of excitement. There will be times I feel like falling away. Heck, I may fall away over that long a time frame. Shoot, who knows if High Five will even be a race 10 years from now? But the excitement is there and the challenge is great enough that I think the idea and journey can stick with me. I’ll do my best. I’ll try to write some words regularly. I’m excited. And I wonder what else will come forward for me along the way. One thing I wonder already, how do I use this journey to also bring some good into the world? Make it a charitable fundraising thing, perhaps? I don’t know. There is much to figure out.