It was dark and raining in Ouray before dawn on Sept. 12, when more than 1,500 registered runners gathered for the 53rd Imogene Pass Run: 17 miles up Camp Bird Road, over 13,114-foot Imogene Pass and down into Telluride. As the sun came up it lit the sky over the Ouray Amphitheatre orange, and there was a piece of a rainbow to the west, toward the basin the field was about to climb. KVNF's Brody Wilson ran it with a recorder and went looking to understand the motivations for the oldest people running that day.
John Unger of Montrose, 69, was starting his 33rd Imogene. He runs, he said, for friends who no longer can. "So I'm kind of running for them and for my future selves, I guess, too."
Bruce Finke, 65, had come from Northampton, Massachusetts, for a race he has run on and off for about 30 years. "It's hard, you know, it's hard," he said. "But then, you know, your head just goes places that it doesn't go anywhere else." His companion, who doesn't run, said the trip has a "coming home feeling" for them even though they don't live here. Donna Senty, 70, from the Madison, Wisconsin, area, was on her first Imogene and a quest to race in all 50 states. "It's my biggest challenge," she said.
The gun went off at 7:30 and the field turned south onto U.S. 550 and up Camp Bird Road, which climbs for ten miles. Half a mile in, Nathan Shearon, 84 (!!!), of Enid, Oklahoma, was walking his first race like it. Julia, from Denver, had been kept out last year by a knee injury. "No complaining today," she said. "That's my rule." Liz Schick, 64, of Olympia, Washington, was running her first trail race in 23 years. Asked how it felt: "Right now, really hard."
Near the highway, race founder Rick Trujillo, 78, who won the first running in 1974, watched the field go by. "I remember the first few years," he said. "It's hard to believe it's more than 50 years ago. And what it's turned into just boggles my mind." He is handing responsibilities to other board members. "I'm 78 now. I don't have another 52 years. That's the reality. It's time to pass the torch."
Almost three hours in, above timberline, Wilson asked Jim Haraway, 61, of Grand Junction, why he was up there at his age. "Because I can," Haraway said. His mother had muscular dystrophy at 40, "and so I wanted to keep moving until I couldn't." Ernie Langelier, 74, also of Grand Junction, was climbing with him. "Luck has nothing to do with it," Langelier said. "It's time and effort and good fortune and the support of your loved ones."
Jennifer, running with her sister, had a husband and two small children waiting in Telluride. "I want them to, you know, see their parents do things that are challenging."
At the pass, the sky had turned brilliant blue. The volunteers at the summit blow horns and shake cowbells for every runner, and most of them have run the race themselves. One of them said, "Oh, I know KVNF! I'm a DJ at KOTO!" Another explained why they come up. "We know what it's like to be way down there and listening to the horns. And it's the only thing that gets you to the summit."
