Leadville 100

I couldn't believe the time had finally come.  I'd been training solidly for over 8 months.  I'd put a lot of time reading and preparing for the race the 2 weeks prior.  I felt I'd trained very well.  I could have done better with stretching and core training.  My diet was the best it has been but it could have been better.  There were doubts but I knew I'd been committed through out training.  I'd thought about this moment every day since signing up for the race: How was my body going to handle 100 miles?  How was my stomach going to react to the mileage and time?  How would I hold up mentally when I felt I couldn't go any further?  I was about to find out.

Dan, Meg and I woke up at 2 am.  We had some breakfast and drove up from Silverthorne to Leadville for the 4 am start. The scene was full of energy, but I felt pretty calm.  I didn't even think about finishing.  I really didn't think about anything.  I had already planned for a finish between 26.5-30 hours.  I had way too much time to go before I could think about anything but the segment I was about to run.  The gun blasted and the race director started chanting, "I will commit. I will not quit."  The day before, she'd told us we were all family.  Cole, the rally speaker, had everyone fired up and a little teary eyed.  He had me believing that I didn't want to let her down!  I got a bit emotional as I listened to her chant and quickly reflected on everything that got me to that point.  But it was way too early to be emotional, so I pushed it aside and headed down the road.

The road was lined with people from town, friends of the runners.  It felt great!  We'd come from all over the country, the world, to line up together for this monumental task.  All of us had sacrificed time, family, body and money.  None of it mattered now.  It was 100 miles to see if we had grit and strength to cross the line again.

It was a busy start.  Over 800 runners took off Saturday morning.  We had about 4 miles on roads before we jumped onto some single track.  I took off at my anticipated pace.  I'd planned on getting into May Queen in 2 hours and 11 minutes.  I felt like we were moving slowly along Turquoise Lake, but as the sun started coming up we entered May Queen and I was only 2 minutes over my plan.  I felt good.   I met up with Meg, Dan and Tim.  I shed some clothing, ate some food and moved on to the first big climb of the race.

The sun was coming up and the view was spectacular up Hangerman Pass.  I really didn't notice the 1,500+ ft climb up the rocky trail.  We topped off above 11,000 feet and started dropping down towards Fish Hatchery.  I felt good but didn't push too hard as I dropped down the steep Powerline section and into the aid station at mile 23.  I was way ahead of my planned pace but I'd anticipated that I would be.  I knew I would need that extra time for later sections of the first 50.  As I came into the aid station, Dan took my hydration vest and Meg walked up to check-in with a great plate of food; I ate strawberries and a bean & quinoa burrito.  On the way out, Dan handed me a bottle of Heed and a bottle of water.  I was going light for the next 4.5 miles.  This section was a tedious, but fast, section of road before heading into the woods for 12 miles.  I met up with my crew again at Treeline and that's when I started feeling fatigue for the first time.

Meg and Dan had me eating again.  I iced my quads and headed out of Treeline walking.  The first heat of the day hit.  I had a long way to go, so I wasn't worried about walking for a bit.  About a mile after Treeline I forced myself to run again.  I was able to do a combination of running and walking up the climbs until I hit mile 33.  At that point I hit about 3 miles of moderate climbing.  The section was runable, but that wasn't in my cards.  I didn't worry about it; I kept telling myself I needed my legs for Hope Pass and my time was good, so I didn't need to push it here.  I worried I would blow my race here if I pressed it.  I topped out around 10,600 feet.  I was able to run for a couple of miles on the downhill.  The last mile into Twin Lakes, I took it slow.  I wasn't feeling too good.  Dan and Meg were at the busy aid station.  They made me eat and loaded me up with food for the Hope Pass climb.  I left Twin Lakes walking.  There was a flat section of trail between Twin Lakes and the climb.  It was runable, but I walked it.  I felt wiped out, and I still had 3,500 feet of climb over the next 5 miles.

During my last few weeks of training, Hope Pass had kept me up some nights.  I'd trained on it, and I knew it was tough.  Now I'd already run 40 miles and I had to crest this bastard!  Before I leaving Twin Lakes, I'd told Dan that my goal of 11:20 to Winfield wasn't going to happen.  I told him that I was going to take this thing slow, and I'd be in at around 12 hours.

It didn't take long before I realized the climb was going to be harder than I thought.  I had to stop and rest 3 times on the way up.  This was disappointing; I hate stopping during a race.  I tried to focus only on getting to the top.  I'd have to climb it again from the back, but I couldn't think about that at that moment.  I stopped at the appropriately named Hopeless Aid Station below the last 500 feet.

Hopeless was a lively aid station.  There were Alpacas everywhere, a fire burning, and a tent city with warm soup and other food.  I went into the tent, grabbed some soup, and sat down for 5 minutes, with an empty head.  No thought was better than any thought my body wanted to have, so I let myself stay there mentally.  Then I got up and climbed the rest of the hill.

The first women runners were just making their way back over Hope Pass.  The male leaders had passed me 40 minutes prior.  I got over the top and kept walking.  There was a 2,500 vertical foot decline in 2.5 miles.  It hurt to run, so I walked the sketchy parts and ran when I could.  A course change added 1.6 miles into Winfield from the bottom of Hope Pass.  Not only was it extra mileage but it also added an extra 500-600 feet of climbing.  I got into Winfield in around 12.5 hours.

Winfield was good; Dan and Meg were there, along with my pacers Monte, Lee and Rob.  My mom, dad, sister, Brady and Bre were there as well.  I felt like crap, but I wasn't dropping with everyone there  cheering me on.  I sat down and ate and got ready for the second 50.  I told Dan the next section would take me 4 hours and to adjust my goal times accordingly.  Monte loaded his pack with my water and food, I carried a water bottle, and off we went.   Monte pushed me up to the top of Hope Pass.  In a word, it SUCKED!  It is steep.  It is unforgiving.

I started wondering how much further I could go.  In my mind, I figured I had already run further than I had ever gone.  I was too focused on the extra 3 miles tacked on around Winfield.  I cursed the RD for doing this to ME!  I felt like I had little left to put out.  I was fried.

We topped out Hope Pass.  I told Monte to meet me at Hopless Aid Station.  I ran down ahead of him and retreated back to my tent.  It was warm in there and they had food.  People were laid out around the area like it was some sort of Red Cross trauma unit.  I looked around and realized that most of the people around me wouldn't finish.  I started resigning to the fact that I might be one of them.

I stood in line to get some Ramen soup.  The aid station worker asked if I wanted a combo of ramen and potatoes.  I asked her if it worked, and she said it did.   So, I went for it.  I don't know if it was because we were so close to heaven up there, but whatever she gave me felt like food from angel!  I sat down and took it in.  Monte rolled in as I started taking down the soup.  He gave me all my gear, filled up my bladder and pushed me down the hill.  He would get down on his own.

For the first 1/4 mile I went slow.  I felt hobbled.  Some runners were literally crying because they were in so much pain.  Or maybe they realized the dream wasn't happening today.  I moved on.  The night rolled in and I turned on the head lamp.  The combination of the night, the angel food and the downhill section gave me new life; I started running.  All of the sudden, I felt no pain!  My blisters didn't hurt.  My legs didn't hurt; they felt strong!?!  I started running faster.  I focused on the ground and rocks below me and remembered why I loved running.  This was it.  Bombing down a rocky trail with only the light of my headlamp all by myself.  I estimated that I passed about 50 people on the way down.  They'd passed me on the way up, but this was a good sign.  I was still in this thing!  As I dropped down into the river basin, I kept running.  I was in is a grassy flat section when I started to hallucinate.  The trail was narrow with grass lining both sides, and my headlamp created a tunnel vision effect.  The grass glowed and sparkled from my headlamp and seemed to grow high and as tall as me as I passed it.  Surreal!  I have had "runners highs" in the past, but this was different.  This was the "zone." I'd read about how runners can come back from the dead and start running without effort, and I was there.  It was great.  I ran through the river and continued on the other side.  As I entered Twin Lakes, I began to walk but I was walking as fast as the runners ahead of me.

I had planned on changing my socks and shoes at Twin Lakes but decided I didn't want to change anything that had me feeling this way!  Rob and Lee walked me to Meg and Dan who had a bunch of food laid out.  Rob handed me his iPod and played In a Big Country covered by Moe.  I ate some more chicken soup from the aid station.  They didn't have the potato mixture here.  These were not angels.

Lee took my pack and we headed up a 1,500 ft climb for a 16 mile section.  My strength carried me to the top of the climb, but as we topped I crashed.  We walked most and ran some.  The temps dropped a bit.  The stars were spectacular.  It seemed like an eternity until we got to Treeline.  I thought I was done.  My feet felt like shredded beef and my ankles were stiff.  I thought it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't make the cutoff at Fish Hatchery because that would mean I didn't "quit", but I could end my race.  Fortunately, Lee wouldn't listen to my complaints of pain.  He wouldn't let my months of training go to waste.  He wasn't going to be responsible for my failure.  He started me running/walking every 20 seconds.  He counted the time aloud as we did this for a couple of miles.  I hated him for it, but it was exactly what I'd needed him to do, so I didn't protest too much.  After a mile or so, we hit the pavement and were able to set into a very fast walking pace.  I hurt like hell, but I was feeling better as we entered Fish Hatchery.  I got in 30 minutes before cutoff.  I commit, I will not quit.

Rob took over from Fish Hatchery.  It was as if fate smiled on me again and I found strength to climb the 1,500 ft Powerline section at a good pace.  Rob kept ahead of me telling jokes and keeping things light.  I think he even called some lady a slowpoke.  He said a lot of other things, but I'd entered another zone.  I was in the familiar "death march".  I didn't hear anything; I didn't say anything.  I just kept marching. Soon we crested Sugarloaf.  Wow!  I had climbed the last hard section!  I realized I just needed to keep moving.  Unfortunately, the backside into May Queen was a rocky shit show.  Every step dealt an excruciating blow to my feet and ankles.  My quads were toast, but I kept moving.  Rob stayed ahead of me.  He was like a honey badger and didn't give a f*** about my problems.  It was exactly what I needed; I got into May Queen while maintaining my 30 minute cushion.

Dan was ready for me.  I'd thought a lot about him during this run.  He'd flown in from Atlanta, and I would have felt terrible if I didn't get to him.  He didn't fly to Colorado for 4 days to watch me quit.  He flew to Colorado to take me home.  I didn't want to disappoint.  He picked me up and told me we needed a 15 minute pace to finish on time.  A 15 minute pace sounds like a walk in the park, but it is hardly that after 90 miles of mountain running.  We had about 1,100 feet of climbing in this section as well.

Dan and I started out fast to build some cushion.  After about 4 miles, I realized that he had planned for us to finish 30 minutes ahead of cutoff.  It was a good call by Dan.  I didn't want to have a race for the finish.  The cushion we built allowed me a pace of 20 minute miles to meet the goal.  I pleaded with him to slow down a bit; we did, but he continued pushing me.  At this point, I could no longer run downhill. Even walking downhill caused excruciating pain.  Fortunately, the last 6 miles were uphill.  I was able to push through.  Dan kept pushing food on me and continued giving me water.  Finally, I could taste the finish line.  My pacers and crew did right by me.

The last mile turned up 6th street.  People were lined up with music playing, cheering us along.  We topped off on the last hill and the finish line was in sight- just 1/2 a mile away.  I put my arm around Dan to take some weight off my shins as we rolled down the very last hill.  With 200 yards to go Meg, Rob and Lee ran up.  I hugged Meg and held her hand.  My dad and Bre ran up and gave me hugs.  At that point I couldn't hold my emotion back any longer.  I' d achieved a goal that seemed like a farfetched fantasy a year ago!  Mom and Brady came next.  I hugged my mom and kissed Brady.
Headed toward the finish line, I saw the large group of people.  They were all cheering for me.  I crossed the finish line, threw my hands up to the sky and gave the RD a huge hug.  She told me I was part of the family forever.  That may sound silly, but it is the way it is at Leadville; it is a family.  Throughout the race, the words of the RD and Cole rang in my head: I will commit, I will not quit.  I didn't let them down.  I didn't let my crew down.  I didn't let my family down. I didn't let myself down.

29 hours 44 minutes.  103 miles.  15,000+ ft vertical climb.

This race wasn't run in just 30 hours.  It was run in the last year.  It was the months of constant training.  It was the sacrifice, sweat, tears and pain.  It was waking up at 4 am on Saturday mornings.  It was the support of Meg: she listened to me talk about it endlessly, she supported me and our family, she kicked me out of the house to train even when both of us wanted me to stay.  This race was all the races I ran earlier this year.  It was the dream trip to the San Juans with Tim.  It was the 4 Loop Pass around the Bells.  It was all of beautiful Colorado I witnessed.  This race made the greatest summer of my life.

I found out what kind of man I am.  Running has healed me, inspired me, and made me a better person. Running has given me purpose and focus.  I've rid myself of bad habits and influences.  I've learned what not to take for granted.  I've learned that people care about be me a hell of a lot more than I realized.  Thank you to everyone who has supported me.  This trip must have seemed selfish and foolish at times, but it was exactly what I needed.  I hope everyone finds their 100 mile race.  The reward is forever.

It's not what we do, it's what we do with what we feel

Takes all you have to stare it down, and whisper "Devil, no deal"

-Don't Give Up on Me Now by Ben Harper