Belated Leadville 100 Recap

I suppose it is time for me to finally sit down and retrace the many steps of the summer and the race that is, to this point, my biggest athletic accomplishment.

For a number of reasons, I just haven't made time to do this yet, so I hope I remember all the things I wanted to include.

First, I have to thank my awesome crew for their amazing support during the race.  Kirk, Christine, Jon, Brad, my sister Crystal, brother-in-law Trey, nephew Austin, and special guests...THANK YOU.  Also, I have to thank Josh, Ken, Malin, and the whole Leadville Race Series crew for all their support over the last two summers as I worked for them and trained in Leadville.  I also have to thank Smokey for hammering out some longer runs with me this summer.  He was way out of my league, but helped me out, and made some of the hours on the mountains even more enjoyable.

Me, Austin, and Kirk minutes before the race

I got a lot better sleep this year before the race, and it wasn't nearly as cold as I had remembered the year before.  I felt good, and had gone through my early morning pre-race eating and other things rituals.

I was confident, and in good spirits.  Oh, and there will be a lot of pictures in this post.

I made myself start slower than I wanted to.  I walked up the paved hill just after the start line, and stopped as soon as we hit dirt to take my jacket off.  I peed by the second railroad tracks, and had my first Gu before we hit pavement again.  I was not rushing, and this was a good sign.

I had decided ahead of time that no matter where I was when we entered the single track around the lake that I was just going to stay there, and not waste energy trying to pass.  I also decided that I would not talk to anyone for as long as possible.  If you know me, you realize this is difficult.

Though I felt as if I had gone much easier in my second attempt here at Leadville, I came in only a few minutes slower than the year prior, and felt much more calm, and less rushed.  I evaluated myself at the aid station, shook hands with Ken, and headed out.  John and Brad were waiting for me just beyond the aid station.  I grabbed the essentials (Gu, bars, and some water/sports drink mix), peed again, and started the climb up to Hagerman Pass.

This portion of the race is the prettiest in my opinion, and I wish more of the race was run in this type of setting.  However, it is harder going this direction, so again I just accepted my position, and took it easy until we hit the Hagerman Pass road.

These are pictures from earlier in the summer from the same road:

Even though it is a road, it is a small, dirt mountain pass road, and it is really quite beautiful up there.  I had a handful of berries from the small bushes that grow on the cliff side of the road as well.  Yum.

I ran harder up here, even though it was still gradually up hill.  You make about a 160 degree turn back up the mountain on to a smaller county type road that head up to the top of Sugar Loaf.  This is where they take one of the Zazoosh photos (the race photography company).  I haven't bought any of those, but if you raced, check them out they do a pretty good job.

Once you reach the top, you mostly have the fast, pretty steep downhill known as Powerline (mostly made famous for its steepness during the mountain bike race that shares this portion of the course with the run.

I have to take a minute to explain some things that pertain to this portion of the course.  People say stupid stuff to me during extended downhills.  They yell for me to save my legs, and mutter things about me wasting my energy this early in the race, and many other misguided points of insult or advice (sometimes I can't tell the difference).  For some reason, these experienced mountain runners would rather go uphill than downhill for the most part.  I hear this all the time, and it is impossible for me to fathom.  I literally do almost nothing when running downhill.  I center my wait over my feel, I lean forward a little bit at the chest, and I just relax.  Why would I fight gravity?  I have a feeling the biggest reason a lot of people are confused, or like going uphill is because they are afraid to relax, and the blow up there knees or quads fighting gravity.  Everyone must do their own thing, but I'd like it if they let me do mine, or at least understood why it is not dumb for me to run fast downhill.  It is something I do naturally, and it doesn't hurt me.

Rant over.

So, I reached the pavement, and cruised in to the Outwardbound Aid Station (Fish Hatchery some years) in just over 4.5 hrs.  I was still feeling good, and happy.

I must have been in the second big wave of runners to come through, because there was a large hunk of watermelon in the bowl, and it didn't look as if it were going to be cut anytime soon.  Soooo......

So I ate at the aid station, made sure I wasn't too amped up, changed into a short sleeve shirt, and got ready to head out.  Then I noticed the neon yellow/green bandanas around some of the crew's necks.  It struck me that it would be nice to have that around my neck, soaked in ice cold water.  So my awesome crew made it happen, and I was off again.

This was a smooth stop, and everything was going just as it was planned.  How could I not feel comfortable with this guy running the crew at Outward Bound:

Stoic

The whole crew was great:

Team Name: Los Stos Amigos

I headed out feeling great, and was determined to cruise through the road section, and looking forward to getting in the shade after the Half Pipe Aid Station.  The run to the aid station is mostly uneventful, but it is cool to see all the cars and spectators at the unofficial Pipeline Crewing Area.

It was nice getting back on the Colorado Trail, and that section just flies by.  It felt like no time at all, and I was making the famous decent into Twin Lakes.

It took me just under 8 hours to cover the 40 miles to Twin Lakes.  I felt great, and took just a few extra moments to evaluate my state of being, and to get fueled up for the hardest part of the race.  

I headed out across this sweeping meadow, and then to climb the mountains off in the distance.

As I've stated many times, I am a really bad climber.  I had run really well, and felt great until this point, and wanted to make sure I didn't ruin the day on Hope Pass like last year.

I had taken better care of my nutrition and hydration this year, and was confident if I took it slow there would be no problems.

I focused on breathing correctly, and maintaining a smooth pace as long as I could.  I tried to only stop for Gu, food, and water breaks.  

It took me nearly 3 hours to make the climb up to the Hopeless Aid Station.  As it was the two other times I'd seen this aid station, it was again very surreal.  The llamas, the smoldering fire, and the classic rock mix to form a really strange, but welcoming combo.  I chugged down some broth and salt, and ate some crackers, then headed out to finish the climb to the pass, and head down to Winfield to pick up my first pacer.

Just like Pipeline, I soon found myself cruising down the backside of Hope Pass at a pretty healthy clip.  Even though the newer section of course (Sheep Gulch?) is nicer than the road, and the first year addition cuts right to Winfield, it seems to drag forever when you have to climb up again after leaving the main trail.

It took me 1hour and 20 minutes to get down the back side.  When I got there I weighed in exactly the same as I'd been at check in the morning before.  The plan had worked.  I was a little exhausted, and took some time to get everything I needed.  Kirk and Christine had made the drive over, and I was supposed to pick up Kevin for the trip back over Hope (Kevin is the runner I paced at Tahoe).  There was heavy traffic on the Winfield Road, and the crowd was out of control.  We couldn't find Kevin, so Kirk suited up, and we headed out.  It had taken me just over 12 hours to cover the 50 miles out; there was a really long day still ahead of us.

Kevin got to pace someone over anyhow, so I'm glad that worked out for him.  It would have been cool  to have him help me over Hope, but it would have been so slow for him.  If you recall from my Tahoe post, 80 miles in he was wasting me uphill, and I had just started, and he had been puking for 20 miles. Hopefully our paths will cross again one day, and I hope he knows I was not upset at all that it didn't work out.

Kirk has a great attitude about these things.  He has a way to make the situation seem light, and gets others that struggle up hill like myself to join in on the same sense of humor wave length.

Here I am leading a train of hikers.  This is a terrible idea, and it didn't take them too long to realize they needed to get around me or they'd lose a lot of time.  Following this picture are a random assortment of shots Kirk took as we climbed the much steeper, but much shorter, back side of Hope Pass.

You can tell this is early in a climb because I am smiling.  Did I mention I hate climbing.

This is hard

Notice only one of us is smiling in this one

I reached Hopeless Aid Station for the second time 2.5 hours after leaving Winfield.  This was 30 minutes faster than I had climbed the front.  

These pictures are all from the saddle at Hope Pass, and the aid station.

It is hard at the top

Welcome to Shangri-La

Are those Llamas real Kirk?

I was still feeling pretty good.  They were out of cups, so I put some broth in one of my water bottles, drank some Roctane, ate some crackers and other assorted things, and we headed out to do the only thing I really do well in ultra trail running...bomb the downhills.

I finally beat Hope

We made it all the way back to Twin Lakes in just under 1 hour and 20 minutes.  So far I had covered 60 miles in 16 hours.  

Getting to run into the aid station at Twin Lakes with your nephew and one of your best friends after conquering the double traverse of Hope Pass is pretty nice

I was still feeling pretty good considering, and excited about my chances for finishing.  I hadn't let any doubt creep in all day, and I had a good cushion on the cutoffs.  I took quite a bit of extra time at this aid station to change socks and shoes for the first time (crossed a creek twice in the meadow at the base of Hope).  I ate and drank plenty, took stock to see if anything else was needed, then Brad and I started the arduous climb out of Twin Lakes, and darkness began to set in shortly thereafter.

Pacer exchange; Kirk got me over the hill, now Brad has to help me make it through the night

Crew looking after my needs, and cleaning my feet for a sock and shoe change

Obviously a little loopy, but the pacers/crew are all good

I think, as runners of this race, we sometimes underestimate the trip out of Twin Lakes.  It is a lot of uphill before you reach the water-only aid station at the Mt. Elbert trail head.  The falling temperature that nightfall brought was much appreciated.  It never got too cold, but I had warmed up during the Hope Pass section.

For some reason, I never felt very comfortable running in the dark on this evening. With the combination of being tired and being in good position to finish the race, I think part of me did not want to risk a big time wipe out that could jeopardize a finish.  Also, I may want to invest in a stronger headlamp.  The Spot and Re-Volt by Black Diamond have been good to me, but it may be time for an upgrade.

After a quick stop at the water-only aid station, we kept on to the Half Pipe Aid Station.  I was able to trot, jog, and walk intermittently through this section.  The most interesting part of the night came as we exited the Lodgepole section, and turned on to the Pipeline.  There were tons of crew cars, and people using this as an crewing area.  It was cool to see everyone out in these wee hours of the morning.  I was surprised that there wasn't more music, or folks trying to keep the runners pumped up.

In no time, we were cruising on the pavement, and chasing the light of of the Outwardbound Aid Station that never seemed to get any closer.  Those last 30 minutes drug on.  We finally arrived, and we were still on pace to finish with some cushion, though I began to attempt some rough math, and became a little concerned that we'd be cutting it close if my pace dropped off too much more.  This stop proved longer than the others, with food, water, re-lube, and a prolonged facilities usage break.


Kirk was again ready to run with me, and knock out another climb on the uphill version of the Powerline section.  The climb was tough, but I had planned a hard, pounding rock play list to get us started up the climb, and then a random assortment of old, slightly odd country songs to keep us entertained.

We kept moving at a steady pace, and made it up in right about 2 hours.  I still did not feel super comfortable bombing the downhills at night, which made me glad that I had attacked them so hard during the daylight hours.  Once we hit the Colorado Trail section I could not run fast at all.  In daylight I destroy this section.  Tired and at night, I barely jogged, being careful to pick my way through and across the randomly scattered boulders on the trail.

We reached the final aid station at Mayqueen around 4:30 AM.  This meant that I had 5.5 hrs to finish the race.  I am not sure why I continued to worry.  Math is never my strong suit, but it certainly is not when I have been running more than a full day.

I wanted to make this the shortest stop of the day.  I told Kirk before we got there that I'd eat at the aid station, and he should get Jon ready to leave as soon as I got over by the crew.  I did not want to get caught up talking to them.  I just wanted to get this thing done.  This turned out to be a bit of a mistake.

We headed out, and ended up behind a couple of women that were running about the same speed that I wanted to maintain.  I wanted to go a little faster, so I pulled around, and immediately noticed a huge problem.  The runner behind me was carrying a flashlight, and she was swinging it wildly with every stride.  I have no idea what purpose it could have served her with it swing around so much.  The purpose it did serve was to make me feel dizzy, confused, and sick.  I couldn't run fast enough to pull away, so I let them pass, and even stopped to let them move far enough in front of me so the light would not bother me any more.

Rant:  In my opinion, this runner displayed poor trail etiquette.  I did not mention it to her, but she has to know that was driving people nuts.  I know she had been running for over 24 hours, but she could have done better.

Daylight was only a little over an hour a way, and soon we were alternating between walking, and a surprisingly strong jog.  It was really cool around the lake, and that kept me going.  The lake trail always seems to stretch on forever on the way back towards the dam, even in shorter training runs.  This morning was no exception, but we eventually made it to the road, headed down the mini-powerline, and we were cruising towards the boulevard in no time.

Jon kept me eating, and as we climbed the Boulevard it began to warm up.  This is when I was made aware of the mistake we made by rushing through Mayqueen.  We were out of water.  I was thirsty.  Fortunately, I had take care of myself all day, and my crew had taken care of me throughout the night.

With about a mile and half to go I let myself realize for the first time that we were going to make it with a nice cushion.  I had recently read Jurek's book talking about his buddy's near win at Western States.  he talked about how his friend's body shut down when it saw the finish line.  I made sure to stay mentally strong, and not think about it too much.

We made it to pavement, and walked up the final, annoying hill, and looked down at the finish line crowd below.  We had done it.

We ran!  Even when we made the bottom of the hill I continued to run.  Someone was playing the Rocky theme music, so I made a few punches in the air.

Then I made it to the carpet, and across the finish line in 28 hours and 24 minutes, where Ken, Merilee, Josh, Malin, my family, and crew were all waiting.  The whole experience was awesome.  This was a beast I had been trying to slay for about a year and a half, and it was finally happening.

Hitting the carpet

Give me that buckle

Austin getting the medal from Merilee to put around my neck

Be prepared for lots of hugging pictures as this was an emotional moment for all involved.

The first hug went to Merilee

Then Josh

Race founder and inspirational force Ken

He gave me a lot of good advice throughout the summer, and he is family now

Family Hug

Kirk and I had shared this embrace a week ago after his MTB finish

Finishers

Jon after leading me home

Stoic

Finishing a 100 is always sort of anti-climactic.  It is definitely one of those "the journey is the destination" events.  That includes the training over the months, and the race itself.

After collecting the buckle, and saying goodbye to the friends I had made over the last two summers, I decided to finally take a nap.  The crew left, and it was just me.  I was back in Texas late the next day.

I have run some 5ks since being back, and I had the Cactus Rose 100 in Bandera at the end of the month.  I am having trouble finding motivation in running though.  Rocky was run to make sure I could finish a 100, and it was for the purpose of getting ready to run Leadville.  With Leadville out of the way, what is the next goal.  I am also beginning to want to spend less time running on the weekends.

We'll see what happens next...

Live Results and Race Tracking for Saturday

This year, you can follow this link to keep track as I attempt the 100 Run:  http://my1.raceresult.com/details/index.php?page=4&eventid=18847&lang=en

My bib # is:    732

My main goal this year is to finish.  If I am feeling good, look for the aid stations to post me coming through around the following times:

Mayqueen: 2.5 hrs
Outward Bound: 5 hrs
Twin Lakes: 7.5-9 hrs
Winfield: 11-13 hrs

There is a possibility of hug variance on those numbers, so don't get your panties in a bunch if I am not right on time.

Send me some good juju and prayers.

I'll post a follow up either way in the next week or so.

Signing off for the summer,

Chris

Warning: Possible Taper Rant

So the taper is in full affect (being only 4 days out from the race).  I worked long, hard hours all weekend, and then did a little over 5 miles on both Sunday and Monday.  Today I cut the grass (which will be my run for the day).  I plan to just go run for about 30 minutes tomorrow, and then the next time I run it will be for 100 miles (if all goes well).

I feel good some times, and other times it seems impossible that the race is this close.  I am glad that I will have a big crew, but that also adds to the pressure of not wanting to let anyone down who has traveled so far.  I'm glad that folks want to know how I am feeling, but to be honest, at this point it doesn't really matter.  The race is starting Saturday morning.  So, whether I feel great or terrible between now in then, the race is going to start at 4:00 on Saturday, and I am going to be there.  I hope folks don't feel upset with that kind of answer, but I'd rather they wish me luck or something of that nature, because asking how I feel is pretty inconsequential.

Everything from here on out is mental.  I am not going to get stronger or weaker in less than a week.  So that leads to this mental roller coaster.  When I am talking to folks that know about the race, and talking strategy, I feel good.  When someone asks how I feel, or if I am ready, it makes me think too much about something that doesn't matter.  So until Josh pulls the trigger on that single shot 12 gauge on Saturday morning, I'll be up and down in my head.

On a lighter note, I made a big pot of gumbo last night, and a few people from around town, and my crew will be having a good size dinner here at the house tonight.

I don't know if all runners getting ready for an ultra-marathon go through these feelings, but I thought this might provide some insight into how it feels the week before in my head.

4 Pass Loop, Mt. Massive, and Soon to Taper

So I took two days off after the night run up Powerline, and then went big.


I did the 4 Pass Loop over in Aspen near the Maroon Bells.  It is exactly what it sounds like; 4 mountain passes strung together by trails.

It was predicted to take about 8-9 hours, but ended up taking 11hrs and 15 mins because of a 1.5 hr detour early on that not only cost that time, but also cost leg power as it was mostly a climb.

The start looks like this:

This is as inhabited and developed as any view you will see on the trail; it is very much in the wilderness.

Be prepared for lots of pictures, because the flowers and lush vegetation were overwhelming.

This sunlit valley was a picture I took from atop the detour route.  At least something nice came out of this wasted effort.

A lot of the trail looks like this

View from the trail, headed up to the first pass

View from nearly atop the first pass

Lots of wildflowers in this Alpine Valley...the camera doesn't capture the wide array of colors

A waterfall

So that was a sample of what it looks like out there.

Here is a look at the trail from above after hiking up...you can follow it all the way down the valley.

The climbing (which really means steep uphill hiking) was tough for me; it is not my strong point.  Luckily, the back side of every climb is a descent, and that is where I am at my best.  There are also a few points where you can run along the valley floor, as you can see below.

The day was very long, and tough, but hopefully it will pay off on race day.  I got a lot of good pictures out of it, so if nothing else, that was a success.

This looked so much like a giant version of a bluebonnet that I had to take a picture.

This video is just a quick look at all of the different colors of flowers that bloom right alongside the trail.

Here is a video of the last (or maybe next to last) valley floor all the way up to nearly the top of the pass.

So all of this happened last Thursday.  I took Friday and Saturday off, and then did about 5 miles of singletrack running on Sunday.

The next day I did a hike of Mt. Massive, and then took the next day off.  The following day, I did the race course from the Timberline trailhead to the Fish Hatchery.  I have taken the last two days off.

Tomorrow night, I plan to run with a local group the last 23.5 mile of the course from Fish Hatchery to the finish.  That will pretty much wrap up my long runs, and the taper begins.

Hopefully all will go well, and the taper will leave me feeling strong, refreshed, and confident on race morning.  I have been feeling slow and heavy the last few days, so hopefully all that will get lined out for a successful finish in 2 weeks (holy crap that is close).