So, this past Saturday I gave the Leadville 100 a try. The race starts in the old mining town of Leadville, Colorado near the Continental Divide in the middle of the state. Average elevation of the race is over 10,000', includes two summits of Hope Pass at 12,600', and must be completed in 30 hours (4 am Saturday to 10 am Sunday).
I've wanted to try it since reading about the race a decade ago. Every year I wimped out and didn't sign up because I knew I wasn't ready. This year I said, screw it, I'll never finish if I don't start. I put in 9 months of trail training including two trail marathons, two trail ultra marathons, and a double crossing of the Grand Canyon (by far the hardest).
I knew I would need help, so Running Buddy Craig (RBC) from Vegas showed up to be my crew chief and head pacer. He was more prepared than I was and the "pre-mission" briefing the night before at the campsite was classic RBC and harkened back to our days working together. Nephew Noah and newly anointed Niece Heidi also agreed to run with me.
Leadville is simply awesome. Great people, great scenery, and overall great atmosphere for the many endurance events they host all summer. We toed the line at 4am for 13 miles out of town and around Turquoise Lake. RBC met me in the dark at mile 7 about 200 yards from our campsite. I off-loaded a water bottle and gloves. It was warming up from the 39 degree start.
Mile 13 (May Queen) was the first official aid station and a chance to change shoes and restock Gu gels and Larabars. I was 10 minutes ahead of my goal time and 25 minutes ahead of the cut-off. I thought that was great, but more on that later. RBC was there to provide a few shots of sweet tea and anything else I needed. His Grissly Adams beard, which he hasn't shaved since retiring from the Air Force, made him easy to pick out in the crowd. He wins best crew chief award - easily.
We then proceeded onto the Colorado Trail for a climb over 11,000' Sugarloaf Mountain. Slow going, but I felt fine. We scrambled down a steep power line trail to pull into the Fish Hatchery aid station - the most organized, professional aid station I've ever experienced in my years of running. I wanted to stay there the rest of the morning.
By now, it was 9:45, I had gone 23 miles, I was 15 minutes ahead of my goal pace, and 45 minutes ahead of the cut-off. Again, there was the bearded one with my jug of sweet tea. I headed out with a dude from Minnesota and we run-walked the next three miles until we reached the tree line. The next stop was Halfmoon aid station along the Colorado Trail at mile 30.
I lost a little time, but nailed my goal time and was 1 hour ahead of the cut-off. This was a small aid station in the woods, but it had what I needed. I took off for the 10 mile, mostly uphill, slog to Twin Lakes.
This is where the death spiral began. The steady uphill after logging 30 miles was more than I was ready for. I had to walk almost the entire way and I stopped eating as much as I needed. By the time I made it to Twin Lakes, I was 45 BEHIND my goal and only 15 minutes ahead of the cut-off. Things looked bleak, especially since I had yet to climb Hope Pass once, let alone twice.
Noah and Heidi met me at Twin Lakes with RBC to make sure I was still alive. It was 1:45 and H-O-T. Noah tried to shade me with an umbrella while I refueled, but all I remember is him trying to untangle the umbrella from a chain-linked fence. It was good to see my crew after nearly 10 hours of running.
I decided to give Hope Pass a try and loaded myself up with gels and bars plus some trekking poles. I left my cold weather gear behind. After all, it was H-O-T at 9,000'.
We had to cross a marsh and a creek/river with knee/thigh deep mountain run-off. Just what I needed to start a climb. Oh yeah, the climb. My right knee started to lock up at mile 35. Now, I needed the poles just to walk, never mind the climb.
It was brutal. I died a slow death. Other people just ahead of the cut-off kept passing me. I knew I had to be to the pass aid station by 4:30. Worse yet, the leaders already made it to the turn-around, came back over the pass, and now were headed back home and zooming past me in the opposite direction. I could tell I was in bad shape just by the way these fast folks looked at me as we crossed paths.
My crew was planning to meet me on the other side of the pass at the 50-mile aid station. At that point, someone can run with me (pacer). Heidi was ready to go. I wasn't.
I got to about 1/2 mile and about 500' vertical feet from the aid station. It was 4:30 (the cut-off time), raining, and the temperature was dropping. End of race for me. I turned around and began the walk of shame back to Twin Lakes. 5 miles of additional torture and time to reflect. Runners still in the race continued to zoom past me. Humbling, very humbling.
My crew got the word that I never made the pass, so they jumped back in the car and started back around the mountain to collect my sorry carcass. I was showered and had a beer in me by the time the winner crossed the line at about 8:45 PM in Leadville. If you're keeping score, I completed about 50 miles and drove back to town and still almost didn't beat his 100 mile time. Amazing.
I crashed in my tent, then got up the next morning to watch the final cut-off at 10AM in Leadville. It was inspiring watching the last 20-30 folks stagger to the finish. How they made it through the night, I may never know.
In the end, I'm really glad I tried. Not very proud of the dreaded, "Did Not Finish" (DNF) -- it's something I will have to live with. Maybe I'll be back, maybe I won't, but it's an experience I will never forget.
Special thanks to my crew who sacrificed to be there. I wish I could have crossed the line with you guys!
I've wanted to try it since reading about the race a decade ago. Every year I wimped out and didn't sign up because I knew I wasn't ready. This year I said, screw it, I'll never finish if I don't start. I put in 9 months of trail training including two trail marathons, two trail ultra marathons, and a double crossing of the Grand Canyon (by far the hardest).
I knew I would need help, so Running Buddy Craig (RBC) from Vegas showed up to be my crew chief and head pacer. He was more prepared than I was and the "pre-mission" briefing the night before at the campsite was classic RBC and harkened back to our days working together. Nephew Noah and newly anointed Niece Heidi also agreed to run with me.
Leadville is simply awesome. Great people, great scenery, and overall great atmosphere for the many endurance events they host all summer. We toed the line at 4am for 13 miles out of town and around Turquoise Lake. RBC met me in the dark at mile 7 about 200 yards from our campsite. I off-loaded a water bottle and gloves. It was warming up from the 39 degree start.
Mile 13 (May Queen) was the first official aid station and a chance to change shoes and restock Gu gels and Larabars. I was 10 minutes ahead of my goal time and 25 minutes ahead of the cut-off. I thought that was great, but more on that later. RBC was there to provide a few shots of sweet tea and anything else I needed. His Grissly Adams beard, which he hasn't shaved since retiring from the Air Force, made him easy to pick out in the crowd. He wins best crew chief award - easily.
We then proceeded onto the Colorado Trail for a climb over 11,000' Sugarloaf Mountain. Slow going, but I felt fine. We scrambled down a steep power line trail to pull into the Fish Hatchery aid station - the most organized, professional aid station I've ever experienced in my years of running. I wanted to stay there the rest of the morning.
By now, it was 9:45, I had gone 23 miles, I was 15 minutes ahead of my goal pace, and 45 minutes ahead of the cut-off. Again, there was the bearded one with my jug of sweet tea. I headed out with a dude from Minnesota and we run-walked the next three miles until we reached the tree line. The next stop was Halfmoon aid station along the Colorado Trail at mile 30.
I lost a little time, but nailed my goal time and was 1 hour ahead of the cut-off. This was a small aid station in the woods, but it had what I needed. I took off for the 10 mile, mostly uphill, slog to Twin Lakes.
This is where the death spiral began. The steady uphill after logging 30 miles was more than I was ready for. I had to walk almost the entire way and I stopped eating as much as I needed. By the time I made it to Twin Lakes, I was 45 BEHIND my goal and only 15 minutes ahead of the cut-off. Things looked bleak, especially since I had yet to climb Hope Pass once, let alone twice.
Noah and Heidi met me at Twin Lakes with RBC to make sure I was still alive. It was 1:45 and H-O-T. Noah tried to shade me with an umbrella while I refueled, but all I remember is him trying to untangle the umbrella from a chain-linked fence. It was good to see my crew after nearly 10 hours of running.
I decided to give Hope Pass a try and loaded myself up with gels and bars plus some trekking poles. I left my cold weather gear behind. After all, it was H-O-T at 9,000'.
We had to cross a marsh and a creek/river with knee/thigh deep mountain run-off. Just what I needed to start a climb. Oh yeah, the climb. My right knee started to lock up at mile 35. Now, I needed the poles just to walk, never mind the climb.
It was brutal. I died a slow death. Other people just ahead of the cut-off kept passing me. I knew I had to be to the pass aid station by 4:30. Worse yet, the leaders already made it to the turn-around, came back over the pass, and now were headed back home and zooming past me in the opposite direction. I could tell I was in bad shape just by the way these fast folks looked at me as we crossed paths.
My crew was planning to meet me on the other side of the pass at the 50-mile aid station. At that point, someone can run with me (pacer). Heidi was ready to go. I wasn't.
I got to about 1/2 mile and about 500' vertical feet from the aid station. It was 4:30 (the cut-off time), raining, and the temperature was dropping. End of race for me. I turned around and began the walk of shame back to Twin Lakes. 5 miles of additional torture and time to reflect. Runners still in the race continued to zoom past me. Humbling, very humbling.
My crew got the word that I never made the pass, so they jumped back in the car and started back around the mountain to collect my sorry carcass. I was showered and had a beer in me by the time the winner crossed the line at about 8:45 PM in Leadville. If you're keeping score, I completed about 50 miles and drove back to town and still almost didn't beat his 100 mile time. Amazing.
I crashed in my tent, then got up the next morning to watch the final cut-off at 10AM in Leadville. It was inspiring watching the last 20-30 folks stagger to the finish. How they made it through the night, I may never know.
In the end, I'm really glad I tried. Not very proud of the dreaded, "Did Not Finish" (DNF) -- it's something I will have to live with. Maybe I'll be back, maybe I won't, but it's an experience I will never forget.
Special thanks to my crew who sacrificed to be there. I wish I could have crossed the line with you guys!
