Runner Describes How Severe Weather Affected 2024 Jemez Mountain Trail Run Events Saturday

Race conditions during Saturday’s Jemez Mountain Trail Run. Photo by Adam Delu

Adam Delu recovers following Saturday’s Jemez Mountain Trail Run. ‘What an amazing community of kind, selfless people that took us into their warm homes!’ Delu said. Courtesy photo

BY ADAM DELU
Albuquerque

Editor’s note: Adam Delu is an experienced 50-mile and 100-mile runner who participated in Saturday’s Jemez Mountain Trail Run event.

I’ve never been so eager to DNF (did not finish) as I was Saturday at the Jemez 50-miler. The first storm hit with hail and lightning before the sun rose, and we were ready with our gear. Things were slow, icy, muddy and lots of adjustments. I barely made the cutoff at the ice rink at noon, knowing I had a big climb and 15 km to cover in two hours. I shifted into max mode, kept my heart rate at 170 and passed a half dozen people before the second storm hit.

I would actually make the cutoff, but that was irrelevant.

The second storm was merciless and hit right after I crossed the ridge. We had ankle deep hail, rain and strong winds. Lightning striking around us and no shelter. Kept thinking I could power through it, but noticed I couldn’t feel my arms or hands anymore. I struggled to walk and put on my gloves without dexterity. No time for other gear (mistake). It became imperative in my mind to get off the mountain before it got worse.

Another runner, Cliff said, “Let’s space apart so that if one of us gets hit the others can do CPR on him.” Ice turned to slush that was calf deep. The winds were relentless.

I remembered an admonition in the Imogene Pass run signup, “The mountain doesn’t give a (expletive) about you.” I repeated this mantra as I stumbled down the rocky trail, hidden by ice and a growing stream, with lightning all around us.

We eventually started seeing houses and the aid station, which was abandoned, except for Jon Femling and a few locals in trucks rescuing runners. The emergency crew had to abandon the Guaje aid station too.

I’ve flirted with hypothermia before, but I’ve never felt this bad. Heating pads in both axillae and on my chest, drinking hot tea, covered in blankets and random garments people had just thrown onto me. And a tiny warm kitten on my face. Still took me what felt like a couple of hours to get to where I could get up and do anything but shake.

I built a cocoon in the van, turned the temperature to 81°F and rested before driving home.

What an adventure, but amazing support from kind people, volunteers, friends in the wilderness medicine community and complete strangers, who opened their homes to a dozen shivering runners.

DNF at 55K. I’ll take it.