Silverton, Colorado knows what it’s like to lose a lottery. Its neighbor to the north, Ouray, has hot springs, which bring tourists and money. To the northwest there is Telluride, which has skiing and Californians and high property values. Silverton has a small railroad and a shrine to the miners who died in the hills.
It is the county seat of San Juan County, but then it is also the only incorporated municipality. There’s a ski slope, but it’s no Telluride, whose lifts show up on Google Maps even at a low resolution. There used to be mining, but a series of disasters both economic and otherwise wiped that out, leaving little work for residents beyond a bit of tourism and highway maintenance.
A bit of history from Wikipedia:
In August 1873, George Howard and R.J. McNutt discovered the Sunnyside silver vein along Hurricane Peak. Gold was then discovered in 1882. The Sunnyside Mine was shut down after the 1929 stock market crash, but was acquired by Standard Metals Corp. in 1959, and reopened, finding gold in 1973 with the Little Mary vein. Half of Colorado’s gold production in the 1970s came from the Sunnyside. Disaster occurred on 4 June 1978, when the water from Lake Emma collapsed a mine shaft (when miners weren’t present,) and then traveled quickly through the tunnels, shooting out a portal along Cement Creek with a force that toppled a 20-ton locomotive. The mine reopened after two years, but was acquired by Echo Bay Mines in 1986, which operated the mine for another five years. The nearby Gold King mine breached and spilled into Cement Creek, causing the 2015 Gold King Mine waste water spill.
But Silverton has Hardrock.
That name doesn’t mean much to most people, but to ultramarathon runners it means everything. There are longer races, including some in the same area. There are hotter races, like Badwater. There are older races, like Western States. There’s even a race in Tennessee that’s harder. But there is only one Hardrock.
Dedicated to the miners who settled in the area and who built the trails and roads on which the race is run, Hardrock is a 100-mile loop with 33,000’ of climbing and equal descent, at an average elevation above 11,000’ and ranging to over 14,000’, passing through the more prosperous Telluride and Ouray. The time cutoff of 48 hours is generous, but that’s because runners are frequently held down in valleys to avoid the lightning strikes which come with regularity each afternoon. The race organizers are candid in predicting that their first fatality will probably be from a lightning strike, not any of the other hazards on the course. A few years back, Adam Campbell was struck and it blew up his headlamp. He went on to finish. That’s what a Hardrocker is like.
When hearing the description, most people say “That ain’t for me.” And they are right. This race is not for you.
But ultrarunners strive to do things that others say they can’t. Each year there are only 145 slots, of which 45 are allocated to new runners. This year 1,726 people were vying for those 45 slots, including yours truly. Your odds increase exponentially each year, so after five years of waiting I had 16 tickets in the lottery, giving me a 9% chance of getting in. Even the one person who had waited eight years had roughly the chance of a coin toss (54%).
The odds definitely say that this race is not for you.
Last January an attorney in Wyoming started making a stink via an online complaint in a web forum, followed by threats of a lawsuit against Hardrock’s lottery, claiming it is unfair because they charge a nonrefundable $10 fee to enter, which was instituted in an effort to keep applications down, assuring applicants had “skin in the game.” It also claimed the race directors were not 100% clear that five of the entrants could be picked by the race director. Everyone close to the race knew this, but it wasn’t written out on the website until this year.
From the “Fix Hardrock Now” site: This year over 1700 members of the public who have never run the race competed for only 42 spots. To earn the right to compete for a miniscule chance in the lottery, these 1700 people had to complete a separate, very difficult 100 mile race and pay non-refundable fees totaling over $17,000. These runners have spent years of their lives trying to qualify and stay qualified for the Hardrock lottery, and with all the blood, sweat and tears expended, it is inexcusable for the Hardrock 100 to act with less than the utmost integrity.
A year and a half ago I got on the wait list and I flew to Colorado on the narrow chance I might get in, bubbling up to the fourth position the night before the start. That race was not for me.
Instead I ended up pacing a friend in the second half, getting a feel for the race. From the very start there was a reverence for those to whom the race is dedicated – the miners. As we climbed up over the passes there were countless little holes in the cliff faces with rubble pouring out, each likely the result of the better part of a man’s working life beating one’s way with hope into a rock trying to find something worth scratching out an existence. You could see lifetimes worth of work up there – mostly ending in failure, some in death.
That’s what it’s really like to lose a lottery. That’s what blood, sweat and tears really look like, and those are the people Hardrock is for. This race is not for you.
So maybe grow a up and realize that not all of life is fair, and no matter how much you give, you might not receive anything for it. Even if you succeed in your “class action” you’ll just get your ten bucks back and take money away from the race, and from the charity to which the money is given. (See: one-room schoolhouse in Silverton the played out mining town.)
As of December 5, 2016, due to the legal pressure the board has offered to refund the fees. Most applicants seem to be doing like me and donating the money.
I’ll be entering again next year, and each year afterward, until I either pan out physically or get the opportunity to run. But I will not complain about whether or not the selection process is fair, because I understand something important: This race is not for me.