Getting to Denver a week before the race, I began a slow acclimization to altitude, right away heading to Rob and Laurie’s (my crew/pacers) in Boulder for a day. We did a hike/run up Green Mountain, a popular local spot that is the first of the mountain peaks heading into the Rockies. The trail we took turned steep near the end, and was a good first test of how it would feel to power hike there. It was a tough one, and the view from the top showed much of the surrounding peaks, some all the way up to 14,000. Although still only 5-6000 feet elevation, I could immediately feel the thinner air. Boulder itself is a cool little urban town surrounded by lots of newly built stores and hugs the barrier of the Rockies. Everywhere there are bike lanes and rivers randomly cut through parks where you can freely hop on an inner tube and float. It is an also a big athlete’s town, all day you’ll see dozens of bikers and runners up and down the multitude of trails and wide shoulders.
Later that day I left for Leadville, driving up I had never been through the Rockies, it was huge. There are barely any valleys, just slopes; it looks like the small towns on the way are built right into the rock.
Getting into Leadville was a breeze; I headed to the hostel and grabbed a top bunk. Most of the people staying there were also in the race and had a lot of tips. It has a vagabondish feel to it with the comfort of coming home to crash by the big screen. Some there just had done the bike race, some that and the marathon AND the 10k. Many come back year after year. Some have done the 100 20+ times- it’s truly a culture, and worth a few days or staying around to soak in the sights.
Plans for just a few short runs around town turned into much higher altitude long hikes over the next few days. We grouped up and headed up Mt. Elbert, the tallest Colorado peak at 14,600 feet. Tuesday was tougher, leaving at 5:30 AM for an attempted ascent of the three Apostles, starting with Ice Mountain in the Collegiate wilderness. A loose-rock Mountain, we climbed scree and discovered that it was impossible to descend without going back down the scree, so we had to ditch the other two peaks. The 10-hour hike was dangerous at times for an amateur with iffy holds. Afterwards I felt the first altitude headache from two days of high climbing, and my legs were roasted, but with little running, it would end up being great taper week training.
The final days leading up to the race flew by. I lost weight easily possibly due to the metabolism shift from being at altitude, down to 128.6 lbs. Knowing my weight; I could gauge how much water to drink during the run.
The morning of the race was unlike anything I have ever been involved in at 2AM. Because of the small size of the town, the walk to the race was a daunting quarter mile from the hostel’s front step, leading to the course which eventually winded out of town onto a wide dirt road, off into the wilderness.
I met my crew, they took pictures and video and would drive to most of the aid stations to support and take care of some of the logistical issues along the way.
At the start, the runners shot out at a good 9-10 minute/mile pace, way too fast for my comfort zone. I needed to force myself to a deliberately slow trot to keep the early miles and pass them by effortlessly, using up energy early on I would regret. It feels natural to run the downhills hard but taking them easy will save a ton of energy for later on.
The first 13 miles led us from the wide path, allowing the 700 runners to disperse and wind around Turquoise Lake in the dark. Relaxing in these first few miles, I kept the headlamp off (not needed due to the hundreds of lights already there) and looked above to see the most brilliant sky I have ever seen. The high-altitude combined with the remoteness of our location provided a vista where the Milky Way appeared 3-D.
The route around Turquoise Lake was rolling single track, mostly running at this point, ending at nearly sunset. The view of the rising sun on this clear day was phenomenal. Someone who forgot a headlamp had a team of spotters who were calling out rocks, roots, etc., and there was a lot of them. At mile 13 we emerged at May Queen, the first aid station, about to tackle the power line route up and down a mountain.
After some single track and a fire road, the power line incline (all hiked) was speckled with trees hit by lightning, the previous night. A short nature break off the trail I saw one tree stump, blackened by the lightning and still smoking. Advised by Rob to not hammer the power lines (AND down the slope) it was both our belief that this small strategy helped in the later miles when we ran while most hiked, even the flat sections. The next station, Fish Hatchery, was definitely the most elaborate, with a full medical, food, and tents, and I even got a complimentary sunscreen application.
At this point I can honestly say I felt GREAT. I was awake, having fun talking to some of the other runners and plenty of energy from the great weather and all the food I had eaten. Plus, the only hill so far was the power lines and I was pacing very well (much slower than I felt like doing). Also, I was headed into the flat section of the course where I would see the entire “valley” that surrounded Leadville and reach the quarter-point. It all felt like it was going quickly and would be over sooner than I thought. Of course, this was all before the hard parts of the course. Still, the knowledge that all I had to do was three times what I just did and one was on the way back kind of made things seem doable.
Done the 5-6 mile flat road section (rumored to be the last year with road), after a quick stop with the crew after the quarter-point I head towards the tree line, mostly flat with some slight climbs. I walk with someone sporting sandals, who swears they are way better than shoes any day. This leaves me excited to try the same, although my feet are still adjusting to NB Minimusis. The next aid station, mile 30, is shortly thereafter and I wolf down a bunch or cookies, carry along a ton of chocolates, and a few PB and jelly sandwiches to attempt to down as many calories as possible early on at the 50K point. Yeah, those chocolates hit the spot, but I forgot how much caffeine those little portions carry- I was wired for the day portion ha. The next 9 miles will be a lot of downhill as the next aid station, Twin Lakes, approaches and onto the real test of the race, Hope Pass.
At this point I am still feeling 100%, although the legs are beginning to feel a slight fatigue but I am keeping a slow pace as possible to save energy and still heading to an 11:30-12 hour halfway point. I am thinking this is the best I will feel for the rest of the time so best to just chill out and enjoy the view of Twin Lakes, which is simply rad.
Twin Lakes was easily the biggest aid station- huge cheers as I went though and tons of support for a quarter mile of parking lot running. The course then winds through a grass trail and through a series of creek crossings, to the river crossing. The knee-deep water felt great, the previous night’s rain had ensured a full river and it was refreshing to walk a little bit and cool off the legs. One mile later loomed the very beginning of Hope Pass’ first climb, the portion which had been the purpose of the last 6 month’s hill interval training.
Passing a set of runners, one looked at said “dude you look pale”. At first I took him completely serious because I felt normal, and looking bad at this point would mean I’m not even aware that my body is reacting badly to the altitude. As soon as I realized he meant my unnecessarily heavy sunscreen job, we had a good laugh and began the then-unknown amount of power-walking up the incline of Hope Pass.
Hope pass was a good 17-20% grade over 2.5-3 miles. Halfway up the first hill the lead runners flew by down the trail looking like they were in the middle of a 5k. I always wondered what the trick is to running a 100 miler like a marathon, interesting how the body can continuously evolve over time to handle continuous stress. I remembered how close we were to the continental divide, the small streams coming down the mountain are the very start points of huge rivers like the Missip. I grabbed makeshift hiking pole sticks for a few minutes but ditched them, I never trained with them, others didn’t use them, and although it made the climbs easier, I felt confident enough to go all leg up the hill. They could be useful but I move awkwardly using them.
It took an hour or so to get to the top “Hopeless” aid station where there were roped up Llamas hanging around. The aid station there had obviously been hand-brought up- no road access. In front of me were a grassy plateau and an elaborate North Face 10-person dome tent as part of the aid station that looked like a Martian outpost. Another short steep climb lied ahead to reach the top of the pass. I loved it, this trail kept me guessing to what was next the whole time, despite memorizing the elevation profile over the past year.
Down the back of the Pass was easy- this was where the top ten were coming up, and they were looking ahead at finishing the toughest part of the course at that point. I felt great, but remembered countless stories from books about how the altitude doesn’t really hit until the climb back over the pass on the way back. Knowing it would be downhill for a while was cool, because the climb up was all hiking and the legs needed a break. The way down was a lot of single track yet with the most passing going on of the whole race at this point. I saw probably the first 200 runners during the way down, and I was only a couple hours behind the cutoff. The heaviest traffic at this point, we all traded “good job” with each other. After reaching the bottom a trail road led to the halfway point. It was slightly uphill and a few miles long- 50 milers have become relatively straightforward for me lately but I had become a little more fatigued at this point than even the end of Bear Mountain 50M. At the halfway aid station, it began to storm up a little bit and I got worried about lightning on the way back. I wasted my most time at this point- had to hit the woods for 20 minutes and spent a while trying to find someone with a trash bag to use as a makeshift poncho (would never rain anyway). At this point food was going down good still but I still was feeling “clogged up” from overeating at previous aid stations. Yet I think I was drinking too much- I came in weighing 133- 5 pounds heavier than my weigh in! They suggested getting more salt and I think that combined with the overdrinking may have caused my GI issues and heartburn. Oh man the heartburn! I borrowed so many Tums during this race I was giving my kidneys or liver a run for their money.
Going back up Hope Pass actually wasn’t as bad as I thought- I had trained specifically for long hills by doing Top of the Tourne and Mt. Minsi at the DelGap so it was more like an aerobics session. I passed a few guys sitting on rocks with their pacers encouraging them to keep going. The week’s earlier hikes were helping now big time with the acclimization. Near the top of the Pass, I could envision the amount left, which could no way be more than 17 hours. That seemed like nothing for some reason- and I knew I would at least make the cutoff as long as I don’t spend gargantuan amount of time at aid stations or get super sick or pass out. In fact, I was REALLY close to a 25 hour pace but it was damn close. I got a little rush knowing I would make it at least under the 30 hour cutoff and have ample time to spare to enjoy the views. At the crest of Hope the temperature plunged to 30-35 and small specks of rain pelted me as I rushed to get lower, where the temp once again got back to 70 or so. This was definitely my high point- still was a physical race to me at this point and I had plenty of energy to spare.
On the way back down Hope slope, it was just me on the trail for the first time. It was surreal being alone now, on a famous section of trail, nobody in sight. I bounded down feeling no cramps or anything, it was very easy and the only thing to do was avoid turning an ankle or falling. I was still drinking too much because it seemed like I had to stop every 15 minutes or so. Once I reached the bottom a mile later it was another stream crossing, a rope put up this time as it was close to twilight. Getting back to Twin Lakes, the 60 mile point, I met the crew to ask how much older I looked and get my headlamp. A swift run through the aid station and a few hundred calories later, I changed toe socks, lubed up the feet, and swore I would not fall asleep in the portojohn as they sent me along.
From night to day, from normal- to weird. The moment I left Twin Lakes it got very dark and clear and the sky was brilliant with a half moon. The Milky Way actually looked like a curved snake and you could feel yourself hurtling through the cosmos if you looked long enough. The rest of the course was the opposite hill profile of course- which meant climbing steady for a few miles. Something definitely happened to me here to throw me back a little. It could have been the sitting down to change socks, or the colder temps, or the massive Hershey bars I could have skipped wore off and I was crashing without a caffeine buzz hiking up the trail (originally planned to cut out caffeine so it would hit me harder during the race but the hostel coffee was too good). So heading back from mile 60 I followed a runner who was getting some unique advice from her pacer about keeping the leg straight to ease the quads. At this point I started getting tired quickly from it being my usual bedtime during the week. Combined with the past day of activity my fatigue was becoming amplified. Some interesting effects- still stopping every 20-30 minutes to go to the side of the trail, to be modest I turned off my headlamp and also enjoyed the darkness and remote feeling. But I was beginning to micro sleep- fall asleep for a second or two, and made sure I was at least on flat ground in case I fell. A few miles later there was this portion of the trail that was only a foot or two wide, and slanted towards a steep drop off. My sense of orientation was going a little- I found myself having to really concentrate to stay straight and felt like I was drunk. The headlamp tended to make the trail more 2-D so to gauge depth perception took a bit of concentration.
Eventually the trail became straight and more runnable. At mile 70 the Copper Ski Resort aid station was bustling, this was prime aid station time, at a station that I can only assume is the one where folks will need the most aid and where the run heads into its most difficult miles. There was an enticing kerosene heater on, I felt tired and not much like eating but took a few minutes to look around the tent. Looking at the crowd of those sitting around, it felt cool to know that this point in the run was the “gauntlet” and pretty much if you were here you had everyone on your side pouring their guts out to cheer you on and help you out with everything you could need to keep on. One volunteer was making 4 kinds of sandwiches and potato combinations at one time, and when someone asked how long to the next station, he gave it down the tenth of a mile. The ramen was flowing freely, and I struggled to eat as many calories at this point but didn’t feel like eating. I started to worry that I would not be able to keep anything down, and with many hours to go, wasn’t sure how to get calories. The only thing that seemed to be ok was potatoes dipped in salt, which went down nicely. Only time would tell if I headed into Bonkville or would rip through the second half.
It was a mere 10 miles until I would meet Rob for some pacing action, and the next section was mostly flat. A few miles till a mini-water station and then 6 or so until Fish Hatchery (where I would meet them). This section is the foggiest in my mind, and probably the portion that was the flattest. There was a lot of back-and-forth passing between me and groups of runners-pacers, but I found a good group of 5-6 people who I could pace off of. They were doing some walk-run, but being on a flatter and somewhat downhill portion, I felt the need to make up some time so I did more like 85% run. If I stopped to walk too long I would fall asleep while walking and remembered advice from a 24-hour back in May about how to keep awake, “all you can do is run and you will stay awake”. One guy had to be in his 80’s was shuffling along at a slow jog the whole time and inspired me to get myself moving. A few pacers were gunning their runners to run at this point, on a flat there’s no excuse so even though it may be the most monotonous part of the second half, walking will only make it last twice as long. Runners were becoming so far apart at this point, aid stations so long to get to, that I imagined I had bought a plane ticket to Colorado, told a friend to meet me on the road every so often, and just decided to run. I guess there’s no real difference in that then what we were doing, sans porto-john’s, that the only difference was perception. I made mental note to remember this though so on solo runs when I feel like cutting it short I could use the trick of envisioning running in a long, drawn out event.
Meeting my pacer was nothing short of magic. Getting there, I couldn’t wait to have someone fresh to run with and was curious what it would be like. The least I wanted was to show any sign of discouragement- I hoped to show them its game on. At the Fish Hatchery Rob and Laurie immediately launched to my side like they had done this a hundred times. Seeing that I was kind of out of it, having to hit the bathroom, eat, and get some Tum’s all at the same time, Rob was super patient but kept me moving because it was time to finish this run! It was hilarious sitting in the potojohn listening to another runner doing the same, egging on his pacer that he was going to run him into the ground haha. I didn’t dare say the same that’s for sure. So we headed out. Rob made a great pacer- we hung out in Boulder and talked about what it would be like at this point, and it was what I hoped for- we both worked hard as hell to pass dozens of other runners! This helped me stay alert, and we began the climb up the power lines which was a little shorter on the way back- but we hauled up it! Because I was feeling suck and could barely keep anything down (never puked but got really really close to it) he gave me gels every 45 minutes or so and a sig of water with each (much much less than I was drinking in the first half but seemed to do the trick). Eating the gels seemed to make me feel increasingly better as time went on- my chi was on its way back- and we started passing groups left and right. He pushed me to run when I felt like it, but not so hard that I wore myself down. We ended up jogging the flats often and always the downhill portions. Reaching May Queen, the final aid station, all that was left to do was go back around the Lake. Laurie helped fit me with some duct tape on the hot spots (definitely recommend toe socks, not a single blister or foot problem the entire time despite going through a river twice and pounding the downhills and running on single track). For the last time I grabbed a couple of pretzels and some Rolaids and we were off. It was in the 30-40 degree range and we had to rewarm up to keep going. The small road section was tough, the feet were sore now so we looked forward to steady series of small hills weaving around Turquoise Lake. Oddly, we passed a perfectly made bagged sandwich right in the middle of the trail, perfectly made in a zip lock.
The final stretch, by the time we may our way to 6 miles to go, the sun was rising and the Lake was made brilliant while we looked at a Bob Ross mountain scene spill out before us. Executing a walk-run strategy where we power-hiked the small inclines, we were making great time and still passing most of the people on the trail. I felt my energy come back full swing as the sun came up and we were actually starting to sweat and get a good early morning workout in. The legs felt fatigued but there was definitely enough left to finish strong. We plugged on, I wanted to try to hit 28 hours. Passing Laurie taking video, we were all smiles and the wild cheers from people along the last 5. . and I remembered that Leadville is actually 104 miles- so we were already at the 100 mile point. Felt some sense of completion having that done at least.
As we reached the “mini power-lines” I bolted downhill for a quarter mile. It turned out to be a good idea to wear the nicely padded shoes this whole race, because my feet still got sore but I’m sure with the Minimus it would have been way more interesting. It was bright out and nearing 8AM- seeing 2 sunrises was really cool. As we passed their campsite Rob got picked up so they could grab video at the finish. 5 miles left to go, I ran most of it with short bursts as it was mostly uphill yet runnable. As with close to any finish the feeling was hard to describe, I wasn’t ecstatic and acting like a loon, but was feeling chatty and did a few fartleks with some fellow finishers as we trotted along that wide dirt road into town. The last mile was street, the finish appeared far away as the moon, yet I could see friends from the hostel and folks handing out wine and cheering as it became drastically nearer. The road leveled out, still at a slight incline, and I forced myself into a “sprint”. I thought of the training, was it enough, was it overdone, did I do what I was should have? Really, all that mattered was that the task was accomplished, and credence could be given to the near $1000 given for the MS Society charity. At the very least a finish was necessary to be serious about that.
Finishing was really cool, each runner got their own tape to break and a hug/medal from the director. Then, sweetness. A free Platypus water jug type thing (still getting the hang of it, kinda like a giant toothpaste dispenser) and free muscle milk (not just for bodybuilding conventions anymore).
Rob and Laurie put in so much work and effort on no sleep. I met them the next day for lunch and was glad to hear Laurie got in 16 hours of sleep, and hoped Rob would swing back into things as well, he actually went back to work the next day, what a trooper. I checked out Boulder briefly again and left the next day. I felt no soreness, which was very strange. I probably attribute this to my weekly lifting sessions which leave me sore for days but just recovered in time for a the long runs. Also the hill runs up select places in Jersey 2-3 times per week. My only physical malady was very tender bottom of feet, which I am still feeling remnants of 2 weeks later.
Leadville is awesome. If not the hiking, wilderness, great food, and ladibackness of the town, despite having to adjust to altitude I would recommend taking a trip there and heading around the various trails or checking out nearby historical spots. Especially if you like mining history.
I hope to come back next year and earn a silver buckle. Maybe try to approach the 20 hour mark. As long as I can get ahead of the huge crowd early on and control my race diet more carefully I could easily knock off two hours. The rest will have to come with training.
A gazillion thanks to Rob and Laurie! They poured themselves into getting me to the finish line and I learned a lot about crewing from them. Having them at my side gave me that extra push to make it. I did polish off some Sansclip songs and pleasantly found some rare live cuts of SOAD.
