Robert Montgomery kissed the rock at two in the morning. Bathed in low light beneath the scrolling digits of an event timer, the kiss marked the culmination of years of training, patience, and learning. Kristen, Rowan, and Koa (wife, daughter, and son), along with a few others, including several enthusiastic runners who had finished earlier in the evening, were there to cheer him. Kevin, his pacer, peeled away to let his steed have his moment. And in that moment, his alone, it meant he had finished the counterclockwise running of the Hard Rock 100.
Watching from the shadows, I was seriously envious. You see, this is my fault, and I am the one – or more likely, my brother Darren – who was supposed to be kissing the rock. Not Robert. He simply married into the cadre of “Young Mountain Runners” when Darren and I were testing our mettle on mountain trails doing 50- and 100-mile running adventures – some call them ‘races’, but I wasn’t ‘racing’ anyone. And anything like toeing the line at Hard Rock is long behind me. But there is a lively magic in Robert that brings success and essence to trail running. He’s taken “It’s What We Do” to another level.
We arrived at the Silverton School Gym a little after 5 AM, two days earlier, joining the typical scrum of entrants, crews, and well-wishers found at any ultra (i.e., anything longer than marathon distance). The race director, a busy man, announces that the Air Quality Index is a robust 151 due to vast, western wildfires – the Grand Canyon Lodge would burn this weekend. With smoke settling into the valley, the director announces that any and all lottery entries for this year (2025) will be honored next year (2026) if anyone feels adversely impacted by the conditions; there are no takers.
There are, however, three runners missing. This is quickly resolved as two have missed the sign-in table accidentally. The third is more hesitant. It would be his 11th running, an amazing and rare feat. He decides ultimately to ‘retire’, and the entry is passed to the first alternate. Suddenly, a guy called Julio finds that in 12 minutes he will be running one of the most challenging 100-mile races on the planet. I cannot tell if the remaining three alternates are disappointed or relieved.
Sunrise is having its moment, reddened behind a smoky veil. A pale but warming glow pervades the starting area as the somewhat informal countdown begins. In his typical non-plussed, lollygagging fashion, chatting with just about everyone, Robert is late to the starting chute. I knew his habit, so I looked for him at the back, soon realizing that the chute filled backwards so that he was now at the front. So much for fashion, he was on the sharp end, and I missed him leaving Silverton. I knew he would let the fast and overeager pass him as he settled into his easy, happy pace, climbing to Cunningham.
A seriously fit and thoughtful athlete, Robert surprised me nevertheless when he asked to join me on a run at Clear Creek in the Carson Range, near our home in western Nevada. This first trail in 2014 would lead ultimately to Hard Rock.
My parents, Dennis and Mary, running junkies themselves, joined me to meet Robert at the Sherman Aid Station. They were soon sharing stories of their mountain climbs and marathons with other race fans, holding forth from camp chairs as runners dropped in from Cataract Gulch. This is about the 30-mile point. Robert arrives happy with his pace and ready for a change of socks. He is soon off for his climb of Handies Peak; he’ll climb more than 4,000 feet from here to its summit at 14,048 feet. Mom and dad shared stories of their climbs to Handies and surrounding peaks, beginning with an early camp trip to almost this exact spot in 1983.
The alpine course of the Hard Rock 100 is relentlessly beautiful and challenging as it loops from Silverton, Colorado, via Ouray and Telluride. It has a cumulative gain of 33,000 feet and being a loop, a cumulative drop of the same 33,000 feet. As a runner, I often worried about the long downhills more than the adventurous climbs; with downhills come the dangerous over-confidence of pace and the pounding strides take a toll. I hoped Robert would pace himself appropriately; I would not see him again for almost 24 hours.
After his seminal Clear Creek run, Robert kept at it. Soon, he was disappearing regularly in the pre-dawn of weekday mornings to collect miles and elevation. He completed his first 100, with Darren, at the Tahoe Rim Trail in 2018. Finishing my last ultra in 2017, I missed the chance to share an event with him, but always cheered as his tally of 100-milers grew. This Hard Rock would be his 13th belt buckle (the traditional prize for finishers; I proudly have three).
The Hard Rock aid station at Telluride added to the town’s crowd, a vacationing mass typical of any mid-summer weekend. The wildfire smoke had cleared, even as several ominous plumes remained hidden beyond the alpine valley. Here, I met Kevin and Tammy Bigley as we waited for Robert to come in from his traverse of Virginius Pass, a notoriously difficult section even when it isn’t snow-filled. Kevin, a Hard Rock finisher, would be joining Robert as his pacer for the remainder.
Kristen had reported him in good spirits at the 58-mile point in Ouray, where she met him in the very early morning. He was little different when he came into Telluride City Park, 17 miles later; it was now almost noon on his second day. The larger aid stations along the Hard Rock course are events in themselves, providing the runners with a buffet of calories and temporary comforts, some of which practically entice you into staying for a while (or forever). Nope. Robert fueled up, took care of his weathered feet, and he and Kevin left for the climb to Oscars – 75 miles behind him, two high passes ahead; a looming cutoff time of 48 hours begins its creep closer.
Robert thrives in the company of Kristen and his children, who often meet him on the trail and celebrate his finishes. He mentions quite often that thinking of them at a finish gets him through the rough patches that inevitably come during any long run. My daughter Kristen, too, has joined our ultra-family of “Young Mountain Runners”; our silly ‘team’ – Dennis, Mary, Desna, Darren, Robert, myself – in working toward and experiencing the success of trail-running adventures beyond the marathon. Grandparents, parents, siblings, and children; trail runners past, present, and future. The personal success of completing a long trail run cannot be taken away – as with most challenges in our lives, it is wonderful to share our individual journeys with each other.
I am waiting for Robert and Kevin at Chapman Gulch, in the heat of the afternoon. This is a wonderful aid station in a high meadow, requiring a nice walk from a nearby community where kids have refreshment stands set up for aid station visitors. But my short hike is forgotten quickly as I watch runners descend the open switchbacks from Oscars Pass; they are approaching Mile 84. It is late afternoon when Robert and Kevin come into Chapman. All is good, but it is clear that the miles are adding up. They do not linger, however; there is another pass to KT to tackle. After refueling and repairing a shoe, they are away again, climbing into the falling evening.
I traverse busy highways back to Ouray to meet Kristen and the kids at our campsite. The wait feels interminable, but we soon head over the pass to Silverton to await Robert. His pace is steady according to the tracking information, but he had slowed. He is deep into the second night and the forested descents from KT and Putnam are long. Things get tedious this late in the journey. I have had blissful, ‘second wind’ moments near the end of long, successful runs, but I have also had to dig deep and fight the demons that seem to pop up with every step. For me, the demons have won more than I have – I have more dreaded DNFs (“Did Not Finish”) than 100-mile finishes. Robert slays the demons, mostly with his smile, beauty, and thinking of his family at the end.
And so, a couple hours after midnight, I am lurking in the dark of Silverton as a pair of headlamps emerge from the forest. The lamps belong to two runners who jog slowly toward small cheers and one cowbell. The yellow digits of the incessantly ticking clock turn to 43 hours just as Robert greets his family with one corner to go. The hugs, high-fives, and quiet cheers slay the last of the demons as he kisses the rock; the rock that all of us ultra-runners have dreamt about.
43:01:32. Only 100.5 miles, >33,000 feet gain/drop, average elevation of 11,000 feet above sea level, one awesome pacer (special thanks to Kevin and Tammy). Crazy. Perfect.
Robert and I still jog together regularly, and I am fortunate that he, Kristen, and my grandkids live so close. We talk about our 100-mile adventures often; he has finished two more since Hard Rock. The Young Mountain Runners continue: It’s what we do. You can’t take that away from any of us.
Keep going. Robert does.
KEEP GOING
