#leadville 100

It took a while to fully process the experience.  I suffered from some post-race depression.  I wasn’t sure what to think.  I told myself that i was about 50/50 disappointed and proud.  But I think it felt more like 80/20.  But I think that was just the depression talking.  Yeah, I had performance goals going into the race.  And at no point did I ever consider “finishing” to be good enough, even if I tried to convince myself that it was.  But an amazing amount of life happens in the course of 30 hours on your feet in the thin air of the Colorado Sawatch Mountain Range.  And as I’ve thought about it, talked to my wife/crew chief/final pacer, as well as other friends who were either there or have ultra experience themselves, I think I’ve finally managed to full understand the experience and what it meant to me.

image: 3:30 am Saturday morning.  Heading to the start line.

Let me start with the week leading up to the race.  It was pretty rough.  I had a burning anxiety that I just couldn’t get under control.  Part of it may have been the taper.  It seemed to do its job because I had a ton of energy.  But I was also constantly visualizing the race, constantly thinking and rethinking the logistics of aid stations and what I needed to bring.  I also had stomach problems the entire week leading into the race - another likely byproduct of the anxiety.  I was mostly super excited to do the race.  There wasn’t any fear like last time I attempted Leadville.  It was absolutely a positive stress.  But it was exhausting.  And there was still, in the back of my mind, a pressure to finish after DNFing my last attempt.  

I attributed my previous DNF to dehydration.  And I still think that was a big part of it.  But the reality was probably closer to altitude sickness, made more pronounced by dehydration.  So I was extra focused on hydration and nutrition going into race day.  Probably overly focused.  But I was convinced that the only way I would fail is due to another crushing gastro-intestinal breakdown like last time.  It doesn’t help that the thin, dry air of Leadville sucks the moisture from your body unlike anything I experience in Boulder.  So I drank a ton of water the 36 or so hours prior to the race.  An absolute ton.  It seemed like the right thing to do.

I also get very anxious about sleeping.  I never sleep well the night before a race.  And I hit rock bottom last year the night before the Never Summer 100k by literally not sleeping at all.  Instead just laying in my tent for hours stressing about not being able to sleep - making it impossible to relax and actually doze off.  I’ve resorted to meds for sleep in races since then.  Before Javelina last fall I intentionally overdosed a little on Benadryl and it worked out great.  I did the same on Friday night, and actually slept a bit.  Probably in the neighborhood of 4 good hours - which isn’t bad considering I had to wake up at 2:30.  But I also felt... weird that night.  I told myself it was the Benadryl.  I wouldn’t say I was hallucinating, but I felt just mentally off.  I’d been freaking out about getting sick all week and was convinced that it hit me the night before the race.  Luckily I felt okay when I woke up.  My legs felt strong.  My stomach was mostly okay.  No real aches or pains from chronic achilles and ankle injuries.  I felt good and excited and ready to go.

I went out way too fast last time I ran this - doing the easy early section in the 7:00′s.  Between that and bombing the final descent of Powerline my legs were shot by the marathon point of the race.  I was determined to not let that happen this time.  My barometer for success began with how well I ran from 25-35, an extended slightly uphill but more or less easy section.  So I went out easy and ran the first 13 mile section in a bit over 2 hours.  Probably within 5 minutes of whatever my goal would have been if I’d cared.  But I knew that part didn’t really matter.

In the second section of the race - Mayqueen to Outward Bound, including the infamous Powerline - things started to get bleak.  On the 1 mile easy dirt road section just past the single-track Colorado Trail section, my stomach was killing me.  My entire nutrition plan had already fallen apart.  In my training runs I’d eat a granola bar of some sort every 30 minutes.  And I could go on for hours like that.  In my 9 hour big training run for the race, I did that the entire time and my stomach was thrilled.  This time my stomach was upset with solid food after the first hour.  

I made the conscious decision to try to settle things with electrolytes so I ate some salt tablets and started relying much more on Gatorade than water, and 30 minutes or so later I started to feel a little better.  But from that point on, every 30 minutes I’d have to force myself to eat and I was always unhappy about it.

image: Outward Bound Aid Station. Mile 24.

After leaving my crew at Outward Bound, things actually got a bit better.  This was the first test section for me and it went great.  Long, easy, semi-uphill miles.  I even hit a high point around the top of the climb on the way to Twin Lakes and flew down the hill.  I did that 15 mile section in a little less than 3 hours.  And while I was steadily losing time to my 25 hour goal time, I felt pretty good.  Then the logistical nightmare started.

Due to avalanches, the road to the halfway point, Winfield, was closed to crews and pacers.  So they had to take a shuttle from Twin Lakes.  So literally every crew, pacer, and spectator was parked at Twin Lakes.  From what I was told, the line of cars along the highway reached 5 miles long.  So when I got into the Twin Lakes Aid Station, I couldn’t find my crew... because they weren’t there.  So I walked back and forth for 10-15 minutes looking for them and spotted the crew of a friend from work also running the race.  I had shoes to change in to for the monster climb coming up and food/drinks... with my missing crew.  So I scrounged up some Gatorade from a stranger and prepared myself to cross a river and hike over a 12,600′ pass in my road shoes.  Then, right before getting back on the trail, I spotted my kids.  My wife had dropped them off on the side of the road with my crew bags and told them to find me.  They got there about 60 seconds before I left.

image: Hope Pass Llamas

So with proper food and trail shoes, I started the Hope Pass climb.  It went fine.  It’s a difficult, but beautiful and rewarding section of the race.  The section near Winfield was harder than I remembered, but I finished the 12 mile section in a little under 4 hours, cruising into the half way point a bit under 12 hours.

This time my crew was there and ready.  They apparently spent almost 2 hours in line to get on a shuttle, so they hadn’t been there for long.  But I got what I needed - a grilled cheese sandwich and a reload on gatorade and gus.  My stomach still wasn’t happy and I was heading into the section that ruined me last time.  So I had a definitely plan.  I had 3.5 miles until the major climb started.  So I gave myself 2.5 miles for my stomach to relax from what I ate at Winfield - then forced down a gu and a granola bar and resigned myself to not eating again until I got to the top of the pass. It didn’t feel good, but I didn’t puke - so it worked.

image: Hope Pass Part 2

The way down was fine.  Not easy - 4 miles of 800 feet per mile of vertical drop 15 hours into a race is pretty rough on the quads - but it was fine.  I had a great pacer for this section, who kept me super entertained with some great conversation.  And the peak crossing once again took about 4 hours - better than I had mentally planned going into the race but I’d lost so much time at Aid Stations and on the first crossing, the 25 hour dream was dead.

image: River Crossing heading back to Twin Lakes

Twin Lakes Inbound was good.  My crew was there and much more relaxed this time.  My pacers were there.  My wife brought me tacos.  i changed my shoes and socks and grabbed some cold weather layers and started the night section of the race.  That’s when things really started to grind.  This was the second test section for myself.  After a climb from 9,200 to 10,600 feet, I had a very long easy section.  Mostly downhill, reasonably smooth.  If I was going to have a good finish, this would be where it came from.  But it didn’t happen.  I told myself once it started going downhill I’d start running.  But my feet were trashed from blisters and my stomach was still giving me problems.  I felt like if I really pushed myself, I’d puke.  So I kept giving myself more time.  But more time didn’t help.  And the more time I gave myself, the more accustomed I got to hiking easy terrain - to the point that I couldn’t find it in myself to really run anymore.  So I’d shamble at 13:00′s on some sections, but actual running seemed to be over.  And that’s when the despair kicked in.

Staring down 50k of walking in the dark is hard to deal with.  I kept looking at my watch and thinking, “my god I have 10 hours left of this.”  In the back of my mind I felt like I’d still hit some high points and be able to turn it around, but it never happened.  I switched pacers again at Outward Bound, going into the last hard part of the race.  It was only 11 miles until the next aid station, but I had a big climb.  Once again I told myself that once I got to the top I’d dig deep and run down.  But I couldn’t.  My feet hurt so much that any rocks at all made things impossible.  And even on the smooth sections I only managed to run 13:00-14:00 minute miles.  My stomach still felt terrible.  It just never got better.

On this section I started to realize some mistakes that I’d made.  According to my pacer, I peed 8 times in this 11 mile section.  And it dawned on me that I drank too much during the race and in the days coming in to the race.  I’d always laughed off hyponatremia and the idea of drinking when thirsty, mostly because most of my races have been in hot weather.  But it looks like it may have bit me, though luckily only mildly.  Once I made this realization I ate the rest of my salt tablets and mostly stopped drinking except for the occasional sip of Gatorade.  It was 4am and 37 degrees.  I definitely wasn’t sweating.

I came into Mayqueen just before 5:00am, an hour under the cutoff.  And once again lost my crew.  After using the restroom I spent a good 10 minutes wandering back and forth looking for them - too tired to walk fast or yell anyone’s name.  I finally found my wife, decked out in her pacer gear, ready to pull me through the final 13 miles.

She did her best to encourage me.  “Run the easy sections.  Stumble the downhills.”  And I tried.  But my feet hurt so much that if there were any rocks at all I just couldn’t do it.  And the first 4 miles of the Turqoise Lake trail are pretty rocky.  So I did the best I could.  The finish still seemed impossibly far away, but I knew I’d get there at least.  Once the trail smoothed out I started to slow jog it a bit.  At this point, 27 hours into the race, my stomach finally started to feel normal.  I was no longer nauseous and I actually started to feel hungry. But I couldn’t stomach gus at this point so I was surviving on a snack bag of trail mix and some gatorade.  I couldn’t tell the difference between hunger and nausea so I was still afraid of throwing up.  But I was getting close and needed a goal to keep myself from slumping my shoulders and walking it in.  So I pushed to get under the 29 hour mark.

The sun came up, it started to get warm, and we pushed the long uphill back into Leadville.  I power hiked the ups and jogged the downs.  I passed at least a dozen people.  We turned the corner at the high school and started up the final real uphill.  I told my wife we’d start running once we got over the top.  And once we reached the crest, I turned to her and told her: “let’s blow the doors off.”  So we ran down the hill.  The first real running I’d done in more than 10 hours.  We were in the 7:00′s when the downhill turned back up into the final few blocks before the finish line.  I started running faster and dropped my wife.  I was in the 6:00′s going up the hill passing more people.  Then my son jumped in at the last minute and ran across the line with me.

28 hours.  44 minutes.  101 miles.  15,000 feet of climbing.  All mostly at or above 10,000 feet of elevation.  This is a hard fucking race.  And while I missed my stretch goal by several hours, it’s an honor to have finished it.  

I’m tired of waiting and would start the race right now if I could.  I guess the taper is doing its job.

I haven’t updated much this summer.  It was just the typical grind to being in ultra shape.  Quick recap: I suffered from some knee injuries until the beginning of April.  Then a Canadian Osteopath magically fixed it and I’ve been ramping up ever since.  So just about 4 months later, here I am.  I had a 34 mile, 8500 feet of climb peak run two Sundays ago.  Then last Sunday I did 21 miles to wrap up 80+ miles in a few hours more than 7 days.  I started tapering this week, but still trying to stay sharp - tempo run + a 45 minute strength workout Tuesday and intervals + a 45 minute strength workout today.  It was surprisingly easy - almost relaxing until about the last 15 minutes of the strength work.  Everything seems to be coming together.

A couple of weeks ago I did a tempo run for the first time in months.  I’d been focused on long runs and intervals mostly.  I fought through about a 6 week ankle injury, so I wasn’t doing much in the way of trails or vert.  Anyway, the tempo run killed me.  I was sore for days.  It actually hurt to sit going into my 34 mile peak run.  But it was a good lesson.  So I’ve crammed in tempo runs the last two weeks, doing the same workout progressively faster and with no real after-effects.  And now all of a sudden, my legs feel strong as hell.

I basically treated my 100 mile training like marathon training.  Except somewhat longer long runs.  Lots of speed work.  Lots of strength work.  I also finally, after 9 years of running, figured out how to run slow on recovery days.  So I got a lot of great practice just plodding along on dead legs.  My peak run put 7500 feet of climbing in the first half and then I just tried to run easier stuff - figuring that’s good practice for the race.  It went okay.

Briefing is in 15 minutes. I didn't sleep super well last night - the altitude makes things difficult. Thin, very dry air. But I don't feel tired so it's fine I guess. It all seems a little impossible now, but I'm trying to not let myself think about the full scope of what I'm about to do. Mostly ignoring the last 25 miles when I visualize. Can't plan for that anyway.

Time to get my shit together.

So the plan was to do nothing but rehab of my heels and IT band until the first monday in February.  It seemed like it was going okay.  But then last weekend I went for a hike Saturday morning then played some really mellow basketball after and my heels felt HORRIBLE.  At that point I started to feel a little hopeless and even looked into whether I could get a refund for the Bighorn 100.  And then Sunday I got my Leadville confirmation.

I got a massage last week and it seemed to really make a difference, at least temporarily.  So I decided to dig deep and start forcing myself to foam roll super aggressively.  That seems to have an immediate impact, but I’m not sure about the lasting improvement yet.  It takes a while to really work things out.  But there are a lot of pretty bad trigger points in my legs and maybe breaking them all up will be what I need.  I bought a Grid X yesterday.  It’s unbelievably painful.  But when I was trying it out on the floor in REI like a total dork I felt a knot in my leg completely move.  So I figured I’d suffer through it.  Nowadays I’m rolling 2-3+ times per day because I don’t really believe in moderation.

It was quite the experience.  I hadn’t done any meaningful crewing or pacing before.  The last time I paced someone was my first ever 20 mile run.  It was the last 20 miles of the PCT50 down near San Diego.  I got to the aid station about 2 minutes before my runner showed up and he managed to drop me in the last 5 miles.  He finished in sub-9:00 and apparently didn’t need my help.

Crewing was a new experience for me, but I’ve run enough ultras to have some idea of what I was doing.  And because I’d run the first 62 miles of Leadville last year, I feel like I had some useful input.  I got the first leg of pacing - the brutal portion from Winfield to Twin Lakes (Hope Pass).  My runner was kicking ass and didn’t need me to push her at all.  And according to the results tracker, she passed 60 people from entering Winfield to entering Twin Lakes.  Totally insane.

I was fresh and I’m still in ultra shape from Never Summer training, but that section of the trail is still extra difficult.  And I was actually sore from it today.  But it was a great experience.  Amazing views that i was fresh enough to enjoy this year.  We were both in a great mood and she completely crushed it.

I felt like a baller after Never Summer.  Not because my time was amazing.  But because it was super hard and I pushed through and finished strong.  Throughout that entire race, I was comparing what i was doing to what i did in Leadville.  And I came to the conclusion that Leadville wasn’t all that bad.  Well, I’m pretty sure I was wrong.  Everything after Twin Lakes inbound was new to me since that’s where I DNFed last year.  And the full night time experience was pretty sobering.

I was cold after my section of pacing.  We crossed the river just after dark and I never bothered to put on extra layers.  My body temperature had dropped just enough by then to make staying warm a little difficult.  About 2.5 hours after leaving our runner at Twin Lakes, we went to meet her at the Half Pipe crew area - about 4 miles from the next major aid station.  And shortly after midnight, the weather rolled in.  A 40 degree temperature, blowing wind and hard rain for about 20 minutes.  And the cold and tired got colder and more tired.  At this point, the doubt and worry started to creep in.  I started to seriously wonder if I could handle this race.  And if I should reconsider running it next year.

I was absolutely freezing when we met her an hour later at the Outward Bound aid station, but she was still cruising.  And I started to get a feel for the toughness it takes to make it through a race like this.  We met her again at the final aid station - Mayqueen - at about 5:30 am.  Just as the glow of sunrise was beginning.  After that we went back to the house, slept for 90 minutes, and got ready to meet her at the finish.  Her pacer gave us text updates throughout the night.  She was steadily knocking out 16 minute miles until the finish.  And shortly after 9:00am, she earned her first 100 mile belt buckle.

It was an emotional experience crossing the finish with her and the rest of her crew.  A triumphant end to a grueling and exhausting 29 hours.  It was also both inspiring and incredibly humbling.  If you look at the profile and the route, Leadville doesn’t look much harder than any other mid tier 100 miler.  Lots of runnable sections.  Lots of dirt roads.  Only 2 major climbs.  But add high elevation, unpredictable weather, and bone-chilling overnight cold, and it’s much easier to understand what the finish rate is typically less than 50%.  For the mid-pack ultra runner that has to survive the night, this is a really tough race.  But it’s also a race whose finish really means something.  And I can’t wait to give it another try next year.  But now I have a healthy fear and respect for what it takes to get through the night in a high mountain 100 miler.  Something that will help me a ton next year in this same race as well as whichever Hardrock qualifier I make it in to (Bighorn 100, The Bear 100, or Run Rabbit Run).

Hope Pass did a number on my heels and my runner at 60 miles probably looked like the pacer.  I was limping but trying not to show it.  The vert is really killing my achilles injuries.  But it’s fine, I have 1 mountain run left this year - one more chance to really screw up my heels again: the Grand Traverse.  After that I’m done running meaningful vert until next spring.  

After last weekend’s experience, I decided I’m back in on the Javelina Jundred this fall.  I know it sounds crazy to keep training for a 100 miler when a 12 mile hike was so rough on me.  But I have some degree of faith that with some focused rehab and semi-intelligent training decisions I can work my way through it without making things worse.  And hopefully making them a little better in that 2.5 months.  And the reality is that this is what I like doing.  I have 0 desire to take an off season.  I’m happy to go lighter and stay out of the mountains for 6 months to let myself recover.  But I’m not going to stop running long distances.  

I think I need some more entry level 100 mile practice before getting back into the harder stuff next year.  I need to nail my hydration and nutrition over 24 hours.  I need to figure out how to sleep before a race.  I need to develop the discipline to go easy for the sake of longevity.  Javelina won’t have the cold nights that worry me the most right now.  But it’s still excellent practice and an experience of a race.  My wife is actually happy to go back and crew for me this year.  She had a lot of fun with it last year.

So yeah, hopefully I’ll see some of you in Arizona on October 27th.  I’ll bring the glow sticks.