Pre-100 Mile Thoughts

During the summer of 2009, I decided that some day I wanted to run a 100-mile foot race.  At the time, I was reading alot of books about running and one of them, Extreme Running, was about all these incredible running races all over the world in some of the most amazing places.  I was immediately intrigued by these types of events and decided to start training and doing races that would eventually prepare me to attempt a 100-miler (although, not necessarily at an exotic locale) and have a decent chance of actually finishing.  A little more than 3 years later, I'm finally getting my chance to toe the line and find out what it's all about.  It might be the only time I ever try a race like this or it might just be the first time.  I have no idea how I will feel about the event after it's over.  I just hope to have fun, finish and collect my buckle. 

It feels as if all the running I've ever done in my life, from my youth, to my college days and all the mountain miles I've logged in the last 6 years, have led up to this race.  I often think about a winter day in 1984 when my family lived in Morehead, Kentucky.  We had just moved to the little mountain town in the foothills of the Appalachians and I was exploring a hillside behind my house, climbing to the top of a tree covered ridge.  I ran down the hillside through the trees with the deep leaves absorbing my foot falls.  I imagined myself descending an immense mountain slope.  I always remember that day for it's joyful simplicity.  It makes me realize that I loved the mountains before I even spent any time in them.  It's the sense of exploration, awe and wonder I get when I'm climbing up even the smallest hill and discovering new things at each vista.  I think about that day alot when I'm out on the trail, just running like a little kid and tapping into my primal urge to move through a natural environment and it makes me happy to think what simple pleasure I get from running trails.  But the flipside to the pleasure of running is the challenge.  The difficulty of running longer and further than a person ever thought they could.  To run from morning until night and then through the night until the sun rises again.  To run even when you don't want to anymore. To do something very simple and accomplish something extraordinary.  Like run 100 miles over mountains. 

Am I ready?  Sure.  Yeah, mostly.  I'm actually really anxious to get to the starting line.  I've gone running enough to know that once we get underway, everything will fall into place.  With the race only a few days away, there's no amount of running that will boost my fitness or assure me that I'm actually ready for the challenge of running 100 miles.  Lately, I've been thinking more about the race logistics, such as gear, clothing and food, and I came up with pacing schedules for finishing in 27.5 hours.  I could possibly finish faster but that's not a motivating factor.  There are alot of variables to consider for a 100 and that's what separates this type of racing from any other race distance I've tackled.  Sure, 50s come close but night time portion of a 100-miler is significant.  It's of the utmost importance that I get on and stay on a regular feeding schedule and that what I'm eating isn't fucking with my stomach.  I'll be carrying a few hundred calories and water between aid stations and replenishing my supply via drop bags and aid station supplies.  I'll be eating mostly food supplied by my crew or in my drop bag.  Clif gels and bars, cashews, clementines, almond and peanut butter, Honey Stinger waffles, berry newtons, watermelon, pineapple, miso soup, hot chocolate, zucchini bread with chocolate chips, walnuts and raisins, pumpkin bread with raisins, .   I'm also using Vespa (probably) and SaltSticks.  In my drop bags, I'll also have extra clothing to change into if the weather gets too hot/cold or snowy/rainy.  The forecast looks good though:  sunny and 70s in the afternoon and clear and high 30s at night.  At 10,000' it'll probably be right around 32F.    Additionally, I'll have a 120-lumen headlamp and a backup 40-lumen headlamp packed, as well as extra batteries.   For the night, I'll also be bumping tunes on the I-Pod to keep me company.  I also have an hour long stand-up routine from Dave Chappelle downloaded to pass the time.   The first half of the race, I'll be using trekking poles and taking it steady and easy.  I'm thinking 11-12 hours for the first half of the race but slower if necessary to save my legs.  I may even stop to soak my feet at certain spots along the course (Fish Creek, the Yampa, Spring Creek).  I really want to feel good enough to run (slowly) during the night and not just be zombie, death-marching through the darkness.  I'm going to keep my effort conservative, stay on top of my nutrition and water, enjoy the course and keep going until I'm finished.  Then, give me my buckle!

Here's my pace schedule, if you're near the course, come down and tell me how bad I look:

1. Base of the ski area/Start  - 8 am
2. Top of Mt. Werner - 10 am
3. Long Lake (via Mountain View Trail) - 11:30 am
4. High School (via Fish Creek Falls Trail) - 1:30 pm
5. Olympian Hall - (via 3rd St./Core Trail) - 1:45 pm
6. Cow Creek (via Emerald/Ridge Trail) - 3:45 pm
7. Olympian Hall (via Beall Trail/Emerald) - 6:45 pm
8. High School - (via Core Trail/3rd St.) - 7:00 pm
9. Long Lake (via Fish Creek Falls Trail) - 9:15 pm (halfway)
10. Summit Lake (via Uranium Mine Road) - 10:45 pm
11. Dry Lake (via Buff Pass Road) - 12:15 am
12. High School (via Spring Creek) - 1:30 am
13. Dry Lake (via Spring Creek) - 3:30 am
14. Summit Lake (via Buff Pass Road) - 5:30 am
15. Long Lake (via Wyoming Trail to Fish Creek Falls Trail) - 7:30 am
16. Top of Mt. Werner (via Mountain View Trail) - 9:30 am
17. Base of the ski area/Finish - 11:30 am

Leadville Silver Rush 50

The Leadville Silver Rush 50 is a great race.  Sunday morning, around 300 (of nearly 600 registered) runners lined up at the Dutch Henri Hill starting line to tackle just short of 50 miles of mountainous jeep and foot trails at elevations from ten to 12,000'.  The starting area was already bursting with energy as music blared and the announcer counted down the time to the shotgun start.  At 6 A.M., a run in the mountains seemed like a good idea.

The weather was clear and cool in the morning after some light rain the night before.  The race begins with a short, steep climb up Dutch Henri Hill before entering a pine forest and beginning a slow, winding climb up to the first aid station around mile 6.  Going into the race, I knew that alot of the course was on jeep trails and wasn't expecting it to be as fun as my beloved single track but I was impressed early on with the trail's footing, varied technicality and overall runnabilty.  Once the intial pack stretched out a bit, I ran with a nice guy from the Denver area for a while, chatting it up about elite mountain runner Matt Carpenter's idea of "even-ness of effort" as we got warmed up.  I moved ahead after a few minutes and ran within myself for a while just getting into the groove.  What I found most impressive about the course were the incredible and expansive views of the very large mountains in the area around Leadville both initially and then, at the higher points of the course.  Around mile 3, the trail paralleled a wide valley, Iowa Gulch, with some relic mining structures from the abandoned Hellena Mine and massive tailing piles at the foot of several enormous, treeless peaks.  After Aid 1, the trail continued up the gulch on the rough jeep road through an open area with bushes and the occasional fir or spruce tree to the base of the Iowa Amphitheatre, watched over by Mount Sherman (14,036'), then met up with dirt County Road 6 for a 3 mile descent to the Printer Boy Aid Station (mile 13.5).  Here, I met up with Katy and Bronwyn, who had come down to crew for me and did so in smashing style, I might add.  As rolled in, I handed my water bottle to Bron, who immediately filled it and asked me what I needed and what I wanted to eat.  Katy got some sunscreen on me and refilled my running vest with a fresh supply of gels and trail mix.  I changed my shirt and was out of there in under two minutes. 

A short, fast descent through a pine forest on near-single track trail greeted me next and I was elated to be in the cool trees as the morning temperature began to climb a bit.  After about a mile descent, the course crossed a road and began a steady climb up a dirt road for the next mile or so before turning onto a double track that continued the climb back in the trees.   So far in the race, I had kept my pace conservative and my effort even.  Elevated, but even.  I was running easy on the downhills and flats and hiking very well on the climbs.   I was feeling really good and in control.  As the climb continued above treeline, I was affored an awesome view of the town of Leadville, Turquoise Lake and Mount Massive (14,421').  Spectacular!  Around here, I met Adam Whitehead, a native of Zimbabwe, living and working in Denver now, and we shared the climb.  I asked Adam what he did for work and when he replied that he was into wealth management, I commented that I did the exact opposite.  In addition to doing the 50, Adam was competing in the Leadman competition, which means he's a badass.  We talked it up and took in the impressive views as we climbed up to 12,000' on a rocky jeep road.  After cresting a false summit, the course descended a bit before climbing, again to 12,000' in prepartion for the descent to the race turnaround at Stumptown.  A little ways into the descent, I partnered up with a runner named Jason (Jay Baker), a Frontier Airlines pilot and triathlete from Denver.  We were both in the zone and chatted like a couple of old ladies about racing and life, all the while cheering on the front runners who were now passing us on their way out.  Because I was having so much fun talking to him, I was a little sad to part company at Stumptown as I handed off my vest to Bronwyn and frantically chewed on some food.  I continued on a convoluted loop climb up to the proper turnaround and met back up with Bronwyn to grab my refilled vest and water bottles.  At this time, I took on a second water bottle filled with Gatorade in anticipation of the afternoon heat and headed back on the course.   I hit the turnaround in under five hours.

The long climb back up to 12,000' after Stumptown was the first time I really had to push the effort.  Between the altitude and the steepness of the trail, the effort to get back to the top of this climb was substantial.  Still, I stuck to my program of eating gels and real food (clementines and a trail mix I pre-made of cashews, dried blueberries and cherries and M&Ms) and drinking to ensure I was properly fueling my body for the effort.  The next descent and climb went well but I was definitely shakier than I was earlier in the race.  This was the section of the course that is above treeline so I distracted myself by looking far off into the surrounding mountains.  At the next aid station, I refilled my bottles and grabbed some pretzels but they turned to paste when I put them in my mouth so I didn't eat many.  As the trail descended again, the temperature began to rise but I felt steady again and I knew I was going to get to see Katy again at the Printer Boy Aid Station.  (I didn't get to see her at Stumptown because my lovely pregnant wife was getting some rest.)  There was one more climb before the aid but I still felt good the entire way, just hiking smooth and strong up through the pine trees.  I got pumped up by the crowd of people amassed on the road as I exited the forest and ran a little harder to give the spectators a good show, looking for my crew all the while.  Once spotted, they changed out my gear and I put on a fresh pair of socks.  I paused to take a picture with a cute puppy at the race and I kissed my wife and left again. 

Earlier in the race, I had been told by one of the other runners that the next section was the crux of the race and now I believe him.  A short descent on paved road takes you back to a 3 mile climb on dirt road back up to foot of Iowa Amphitheatre.  By now, the mid-day heat has arrived and you are completely exposed on that road as you climb achingly slow up, up and up.  I shuffled, hiked and walked.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat for one hour.  I reached the top around the seven hour mark and relished the idea of a mostly downhill finish.  Mostly.

I found myself grinding away the final miles of the race.  I had felt so good the first half, it was hard to believe that I was starting to fade and I just kept calculating the time-to-mile pace that would let me finish in my under-10 hour goal.  I hit the final aid station, still in pretty good spirits and chowed on some watermelon and had my water bottles refilled.  I had been diluting my Gatorade bottle with water and, in hindsight, I suffered on electrolytes toward the end because I had been doing that.  Particularly because it warm.  As a result, I just slowly faded over the last part of the race.  I could feel it coming and tried to keep taking on calories in the form of gels but I just continued to struggle as the miles wore on at the end.  I still managed a pace in the high 10 min/mile but it I could tell it wouldn't last as the wheels started falling off the wagon.  With only a few miles left in the race, I linked up with another runner (Sean Wetstine) who was still feeling good enough to talk to me and provide some encouragement.  We shuffled along and I couldn't believe it didn't feel like we were getting closer to the finish.  I checked my GPS and it just didn't tick off the distance quick enough for my liking.  Then, the nausea.  Whoa.  My stomach did a 180 and started messing with me.  I finally stopped dead in my tracks and coughed, heaved and cramped.  No vomit just pain.  Oh.  I'm in the hurt locker now.  I just turned and started up the trail.  Just move forward.  Finish.  I walked.  I hiked.  I shuffled.  I looked at my GPS and saw that we should be at the finish and all I saw on the course was a foot trail climbing up a hill, into the trees.  "Those fuckers.  They added a mile to the course."  I thought to myself and I was right.  I just kept moving and actually managed to run again.  I told myself to take advantage of the lie that my brain was telling my body and kept moving. 

Finally, I saw and heard people as I crested the top of Dutch Henri Hill and relief overwhelms me.  I ran hard down the trail to the finish line.  I saw Katy and Bronwyn and the red carpet finish and nothing mattered for a moment except the fact that I was finished and I did it under 10 hours.  9:49:56.  Then, I remembered to look for the runner who pulled me through those final miles so that I can thank him but he's lost in the crowd.  I am humbled.

Silver Rush was another great experience and full of surprises.  The course is definitely tough, scenic and worthy of the effort.   Towards the end of my race, the clouds started moving in and it rained and hailed for a while a few minutes after I finished.  I immediately thought of the 200 or so runners still out on the course dealing with the mountain weather and how we are just visitors to those high peaks that we spent the day running through, up and down.    Despite feeling low at the end of the race, the overall experience was exceptional and I got to run with some really amazing people.

Quad Rock 50 Race Reort

I caught up with Bronwyn Rittner in her motorhome at a gas station in Walden after leaving work at lunch on Friday afternoon.  She was going to be providing me with a warm shelter on wheels as well as race day crew support as I attempted my fourth trail ultra in Ft. Collins the following morning.   Some veteran runners might think that being crewed at a 50-miler is unecessary but Bron's aid proved to be indespensible at Quad Rock, especially as rain fell and temperatures dropped into the 30s the evening before the race.  She had secured a campsite within 20 minutes of the start area and after dinner and last minute preparations, we retired early in anticipation of the 5 a.m. start time.

The bright sunlight, casino-like location and multitude of people should have been a clue that things were not as they seemed, but I still panicked as I frantically looked for my race gear.  Nothing was where it was supposed to be!  I panciked more.  Who is this person laying down where I laid my gear just hours before?  Why is my dog here?  I couldn't answer the questions.  Why is there now a child wearing a leash where my dog once was?  Now, I see the motorhome driving off in the distance and I run to catch it but soon lose it in the crowds of people that have materialized.  I panic more.  I'm going to miss the start!  Damn!  What is happening?  ...and suddenly, I wake up.  It is dark.  My alarm then goes off and I realize I have been dreaming and it is now 3 a.m. race day morning.  Relief strikes me and I quietly laugh to myself.  I already miss my now-pregnant wife-to-be and want to call her and tell her about my dream but it's too early.  It's going to be an interesting day.

Bron prepares breakfast and I drink some coffee.  Outside, the rain has stopped and the ground is wet and it is very cool so I dress appropriately for my run.   We arrive at the start area a little after 4:30 a.m. and as I pick up my race number I notice elite ultrarunner Krissy Moehl is working the registration tent.  I think to myself how cool it is that ultrarunning is still so small and intimate that it isn't uncommon to see the best in sport volunteering at a race (I later saw Krissy working an aid station and, again, running back to the start area).   Without any fanfare, the race begins and about 200 runners head off into the morning darkness to complete a 25 mile loop through Lory State Park and Horsetooth Mountain Park, at least once.

Only minutes into the race, we turn onto single track trail, headlamps guiding our way, and I get the feeling that I will be pulling over into the bushes before anyone else.  After less than 2 miles of running, the notion turns into a certainty and I find a quiet spot, turn off my light and descreetly let nature run it's own course.   By the time I rejoin the race, I've fallen back to near the end of the pack but it doesn't bother me in the least as I am determined to run my own conservative race and know that I have, literally, all day to see where I stack up.  As the sun begins to come up, I find myself working my way up past a couple of groups, never working too hard, but still able to make some progress with regards to my overall position.  Still under 4 miles into the race, the climbing begins on single track, so I patiently fall into line behind about 20 people and find a hiking groove.  The morning light reveals beautiful pine trees and rocky trails that snake steeply up the mountainside but any views into the distance are obscured by thick fog.   As we climb higher, frost and a little snow cover the plants and rocks.  After a while, we hit the wide trail up to the Towers so I surge past the group and then return to a steady hike, climbing up into the cold cloud layer.  Nearing the top, I strike up a short conversation with a Ft. Collins runner who tells me he is going to his son's soccer game after he finishes his 25 mile loop.  It makes me think about my own future child and fills me with happiness as I press upwards.  At the aid station, I don't linger too long but I make sure to have my water bottle topped off and grab a handful of food to eat.  I've started eating a gel packet every 45 minutes to help keep my energy up.  After Towers, we begin the first descent and I manage to pass a few more runners as the field stretches out.  Again, I maintain a steady, even pace.  It's much colder than I expected it to be but not quite as wet.  I hope that it will warm up as the day progress, though, so when I reach the next aid station, Horsetooth, I decide to drop off my gaiters, change shoes and, optimistically, change into a short sleeve shirt, grab new gloves and eat some food and chat it up with Bronwyn a little bit.  I easily spent several minutes in the aid station before leaving feeling refreshed.

The next leg was another climb back up to Towers via a different trail.  The climb was another steep one and I'm sure I hiked almost every step to conserve energy.  On the way up, I catch a few people and one of them is Steamboat runner, Mike Hlavecek, who has finished several ultras including last years Leadville Trail 100 in just over 22 hours.  I have the utmost respect for Mike's endurance and know that if I pass him, I'm probably going too fast.  We strike up a conversation and we run the next downhill leg together until we arrive at the Arthur's Rock aid station at mile 17.6.  Again, I take my time and I see Mike take off.  It occurs to me that I should be meeting Bronwyn here but when I don't see her, I assume it was the next aid station or something.  So, off I go on a long 7.4 mile leg back to the start/finish area at Soldier Canyon.  (Later, she tells me that I had beat her to Arthur's by five minutes.)  I'm still carrying a couple of gels but it also occurs to me that I was supposed to pick up a little more food from her (and, maybe, a long sleeve shirt).  I still managed a good pace on the leg but as I made it back to Soldier Canyon, I begin to feel my energy fading.  Before I hit the aid station, though, I am lifted by the comic scene of a fellow runner going outbound on the course again and proceeding to vomit just 20 feet in front of me.  His moment of  abject misery dwarfs mine and I laugh to myself and I run into Soldier Canyon.

Once at Soldier Canyon, I spend a good 10 minutes there getting readjusted, eating some potato chips and sweets and refilling my running vest with gels, beef jerky and some Clif Bloks.  I empty my shoes of rocks and really feel refreshed and ready to tackle the second lap as I head back out.

On the climb out, I maintain a steady hike, rarely running, and catch several runners, including the "vomitter", another guy moaning in pain and limping, as well as few people doing well but just moving slower than me.  It's another 7.4 miles back to Arthur's, a climb and descent, but it goes super well for me.  Hiking up, I eat the entire packet of Clif Bloks and the beef jerky.  On the descent, I run through the woods on a cool, rocky trail and have moments of pure bliss, engulfed by the joy of running smoothly through a clouded, frosty wonderland.  It is a pure runner's high.  As I arrive back at Arthur's, I'm stoked to see Bronwyn there and she relays the story of her getting there after me.  Again, I take my time, drink some miso soup and refill all my bottles with water and Gatorade.  I change my shoes, again, although it wasn't really necessary and leave after a few minutes, ready for another 1600' climb back up to Towers. 
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At the beginning of this leg, my feet hurt a little and I'm afraid that my shoe change was a big mistake.  It also feels even colder as I hike upward into the clouds again but my forward motion is enough to keep me warm and my feet start to feel better by the time I reach Towers.  Again, I top off the water bottles, grab a couple cookies and shove them into my pockets and eat a handful of gummy bears and I'm off, down the mountain another 1600' to Horsetooth.  The downhill treats me good again but I decide to change my shoes, yet again, once I hit the aid station.

At Horsetooth, I lingered a full 10 to 12 minutes, drinking more miso soup and eating a turkey and rice burrito that I had prepared for the race.  I change up my footwear one last time and chat it up with the aid station personnel, one who even suggests a cool name for the baby.  Clearly, I'm just having a great time at the event and not even thinking about racing for a fast time or place.  Leaving, I'm amazed at how good I feel so late into the race so I just stick to the plan and power hike all the way back up to Towers for the fourth time of the day. 

After going up to Towers, I met a couple of hikers on the way back down.  They ask how far we are running and when I tell them 50 miles they are both amazed.  I look at my GPS and tell them that I am at mile 45 and I've been going for 9 hours and 55 minutes.  As I move on, I realize that if I hammer the last 5 miles, I might be able to break my own personal best time for 50 miles so I finally let myself go and begin to run hard for the first time all day.  I reel in a couple more runners and really can't believe how fast I'm able to run so late in the race.  I press and press my effort the final two miles, trying to catch two more people in the distance before the finish but can't close the gap before the race ends.  I cross the finish in 10:42:57, a new 50 mile PR by 10 minutes.  I can't help but think that if I hadn't spent so much time in the aid stations I could have finished nearly a half hour faster than I did.

Overall, it was a great training run and learning experience.  The race volunteers were awesome, the course was well-marked and ridiculously hard.   Bronwyn's help was top notch and much appreciated and I can't wait to team up with her again in July for the Leadville Silver Rush 50, where I think I will push hard for a sub-10 hour finish.

Desert RATS 25 miler Race Report

Ironically, it took not going for a run today to allow me the time to write a race report for last Saturday's outing, which turned out quite well.   I headed down to the Grand Junction area on late Friday afternoon with Aaron Baker, who was cool enough to invite me to stay at his parent's house for the weekend.  The drive down was stunning as we paralleled the Colorado River and Aaron's company was hilarious, as usual.  We fueled up on some delicious Mexican food courtesy of Los Jilberto's and I got a great night sleep in a comfortable bed, rather than sleeping in my truck.

I woke up around 4:30 a.m., early enough to get to the race start area, check in and then run a couple miles on the course to warm up.  I returned to the start area, grabbed my vest and water bottles, took a few pictures and jumped into the last quarter of the pack of about 200 runners (both 25 and 50 mile racers).  The first mile was on a wide gravel road and I slowly worked my way to mid-pack before the course turned onto single track.  I kept the pace very manageable but still found myself moving faster than the people I was running with, so I picked my way past small groups when the trail was wide enough.  After passing one small group, I heard someone whine, "Let people know what side you're passing on!"  Gee, I thought this was a race.  "Right on." I replied.  The climb continued on for about a mile before we hit an awesome rolling, technical, slick rock section that went on for 3-4 miles.  After cresting the ridge, the views of canyons and the Colorado River below were spectacular.  I was still able to pass every now and then but I noticed myself being overly cautious about passing when OW! I rolled my right ankle and heard it make a popping sound.  The pain was immediate and I started to consider dropping from the race before I even hit the first aid station.  Damn. Not an auspicious beginning.  I slowed a bit but kept moving and reassessing whether or not my ankle was OK to continue and finish.  As I ran into the first aid station, I decided to keep going and see how things would play out.  On the next climb, I felt like the pain would be manageable and was determined to finish.  After that, I would only experience an occasional sharp pain when I ran downhill.   I decided to just stick to my original plan and run slow, hike all the hills, take some pictures, enjoy the views and concentrate on staying hydrated and nourished.



From there, my run played out really well and I felt good the rest of the morning (with the exception of my ankle and, later, my tender feet).  I had started eating gels after the first half hour and continued eating one every 45 minutes as well as drinking water quite often and eating something quickly at each aid station (chips, a banana, M&Ms, etc.).  As a result, my energy levels never decreased and I didn't get tired during the race.  I maintained a moderate pace that was still fast enough for me to keep catching small groups of runners, pass them, then keep working away until I got to the next group.  The beautiful desert rock kept me inspired the entire time.  Around the 10 mile mark, I hiked, then ran, for a couple miles with a guy named Rob (Ganger) from the Denver suburb of Englewood and struck up a conversation.  It turns out that he will be running all of the ultra-trail races that I'm doing this summer.   I enjoyed his company and the pace he was running so it was a pleasant to continue with him for half an hour or so.  He was doing the 50 miler, so his pace was a little slower and I passed him in the late teen miles and pressed on by myself.  Around the 20 mile mark, I hit another aid station, where I had my water bottle filled for the third time and also had my electrolyte bottle filled.  The morning had been pretty cool but it was starting to warm into the high 70s/low 80s, which felt quite warm to me.  After that, the course began it's last major climb, about 800 feet back to the top of the Mack Ridge.  I was still feeling so good that I reeled in at least 6 more runners before hitting the top.  It was clear to me that staying fueled early was really paying dividends at this point in the race.  Everyone I passed looked so fatigued and was really struggling.  One guy pleaded, "I'm a road runner!" as he slowly hiked up the rocky trail.  I couldn't help but feel like I knew something that my contemporaries were not privy to, so I just kept the tempo even.  The only issues I had at this point were that my feet were feeling pretty tender from miles of rocky trail that I wasn't quite accustomed to after running on dirt roads and snow all winter.  The final descent, perhaps a mile and a half or so and very technical and steep was a little painful and I was glad to get back to the last mile of gravel road as it was just slightly less rough on my feet.  As I neared the finish, I didn't really charge to the end like I usually do, but rather casually jogged it in, wondering if I should do the 3 extra miles I had planned on doing before the race started.   I did about a half mile and decided I just wanted to stop, relax and enjoy the scene at the start/finish area.  I milled about, ate some post-race food and talked it up with some of the other runners.  When I saw Rob going back out on his second lap, I ran out to wish him luck and told him I'd be looking for him at a future race.  I stayed around for another half hour or so, took some more pictures then decided it was getting too hot out for me and it was time to head out and begin my recovery. 

In all, it was another wonderful celebration of running and worth the time and energy to come and run in another beautiful Colorado location.  I ended up with a 28.29 mile/5:04:30 total effort and race result of 25.5 miles/4000+' in 4 hours, 22 minutes.   In the following days, my quadraceps were very sore but I've recovered nicely and went for a hike/run last night for about 45 minutes.   Since Quad Rock is in only 3 weeks, my plan from here is to get some decent 2-3 hour runs in the next two weekends and keep my weekday maintenance runs very modest or just rest altogether.  At this point in my training, most of my fitness base is already set, so I don't have anything to gain by running hard, especially so close to doing a 50 miler.  Looking ahead, I think Quad Rock is going to be a really tough race, with alot of elevation change (+/- 11,000') and, probably, high temperatures, so it could turn into a death march if I'm not careful! 

Leadville Trail 100 Race Recap

Katy and Bronwyn, her crew chief, tried to leave for Leadville on Thursday night but got vehemently denied by a combination of mudslides and one badly running RV. Instead, we headed south the next morning, me following in my truck. After the heavy rains the day before, it was a beautiful morning and we made it to Leadville in plenty of time for Katy to do her pre-race medical check-in and to sit in on the race briefing and crew meeting. 800 runners had registered for this year's race, it's largest field ever and about 750 made it to the starting line (362 finishers) Saturday morning at 4 a.m.

We awoke around 2:30 a.m., got ready and drove to the start. Even in the dark, cold morning, the energy at 6th and Harrison was palpable. Bronwyn, myself and other crew members, Johnathan and Laura, watched on as Katy and hundreds of other runners, streamed down the road, headlights beaming, beginning a grand adventure. We then loaded up into the Suburban and made our way to the first aid station, May Queen, where we would resupply Katy after the first 13.5 miles around Turquoise Lake.

Due to the incredible volume of people crewing for runners, the roads were a madhouse all day. At May Queen, we parked about a half mile from the aid station, assembled and loaded a gear chariot and towed Katy's supplies (food, extra clothing, etc.) down to meet her. Katy arrived at May Queen looking calm and relaxed in about 2.5 hours. Her first question, "Did you bring the blue bag?" was met with befuddled looks from the rest of us. Immediately, John bolted into a run back to the Suburban. As a crew, we were now batting 0 for 1. Still, there was no big hurry to get Katy out on the trail right away and she ate a little and stayed warm until John returned with her gear. The next leg had an aid station about 10 miles from this point but we wouldn't meet her until Twin Lakes, about 27 miles away. She packed and wore a running backpack with enough supplies to get her there. After a brief stay, she rejoined the race and began the trek up the Colorado Trail towards Hagerman Pass and onto what would become her toughest stretch.

After leaving Katy, the rest of the crew went back to our campsite to prep food for later in the day and I tried to start mentally preparing myself to pace. We left for Twin Lakes and arrived there a couple hours before we expected Katy to arrive. The little "town" was all abuzz and the front runners were already starting to trickle through. When she finally arrived, Katy complained that the IT band (connective tissue running along the quadracep from the hip to the knee) in her left leg was giving her problems and locking her leg up when she tried to run flats or downhills. The pain had started around mile 18 and wasn't getting any better. John, our masseuse, worked on her for a few minutes as she ate and got ready to climb Hope Pass. I think everyone was little nervous at this point but Katy was determined to keep going. A few minutes after she left Twin Lakes, she called from her cell phone to tell me that she had passed the leader, Anton Krupicka, going the other way (Unfortunately, Anton ended up not finishing the race after "bonking" around mile 80) and to say her leg was locking up again. Still, we stuck to the plan and John, Laura and I went to Winfield to wait for her.

After a dusty and slow drive out to the ghost town of Winfield, we anxiously waited a few hours for Katy's arrival. There was well over a thousand people at the turnaround and it was really quite a spectacle as masses of people gathered to spectate and support these incredible runners. As it got later and later passed the time we expected her to show up, we knew Katy's injury was getting the best of her. We started to think that maybe she had turned around and headed back to Twin Lakes but with a scant 45 minutes to go before the cutoff time, Katy came rolling into Winfield. Her IT band had definitely taken a turn for the worse but she was determined to continue as long as she could. After another massage and conferring with a doctor at the medical tent (who recommended she NOT continue), I joined my beautiful and persistant girlfriend back down the dusty road for 3 miles before heading up the south side of Hope Pass.

We tried to run on the road but it was just too painful for her. However, once we reached the trail she had no problem with the uphill hike. On the contrary, we began passing many people on the climb. Most were just having trouble dealing with the altitude. I know it was frustrating for her that we had no problem passing 20 or so people on the uphill knowing that the downhill would be excruciatingly slow. We reached the Hopeless aid station (complete with 30 or so llamas that had brought in all the supplies) just as the sun was going down, around 8 p.m., and ate a cup of noodles and stood by a fire for a couple minutes. It was getting cold and we were a little underdressed since we had planned to do all this section in daylight. Still, we trudged on downhill, into the dark woods. After about an hour more, we reached the first of several, cold water crossings. These, combined with some cold mud, made the last mile fairly uncomfortable. Just after 10 p.m., we reached the Twin Lakes aid station, 15 minutes after the 9:45 p.m. cut off time. Katy's run had covered 60.5 miles in 18 hours. Not her desired result but very impressive considering her physical condition. Mentally, she did not let down at ANY time. She's a champ.

After a few hours of sleep, we awoke to cheer on some of the final runner's along the part of the course that went by our campsite. Around 9 a.m. we all went to the finish line to watch the last people who would make the 30-hour cutoff (and one that wouldn't). The street was lined with a couple hundred people and the finish was a very emotional scene, especially for these final runners who had fought the course longer than those before them. Particularly moving for me was one man who was in the 70-79 year age group who finished with about 10 minutes to spare. The crowd roared as he came through. Amazing. Chances are very good that Katy and I will both attempt the Leadville 100 next year.

2010 Tahoe Rim Trail 50K Race Report

I packed up the dog and a long weekend's worth of supplies and started driving towards South Lake Tahoe around 4 a.m. on the morning of the 15th. This is the part I will skip next time. A plane ticket and a couple of bags in exchange for 32 hours in a hot, cramped 20 year old Toyota pickup with 282K miles on it. I suppose I could look on the bright side and say that I did a crash course in heat acclimation by driving on the freshly blacktopped asphalt of I-80 in 103F degree heat. Then, did some sleep deprivation training on the drive back by leaving at 7 p.m. and driving through the night to get home. Apparently, ultrarunning and family are labors of love. :)

The race was amazing. Jay dropped me off at the satellite parking for Spooner Lake State Park and I chose to run the half mile down to the start as a warm up rather than take the shuttle. I already felt light and nimble and ready to run. A crowd of around 400, that consisted of both 50K and 50 mile runners, amassed at the starting line a few minutes before the 6 a.m. start. The 100 mile racers had left the start an hour prior. After picking up my race number, I spent a few minutes snapping photos of the runners. The Race Director went over some pre-race info (like only doing the Red House Loop ONCE and avoid the mountain lions and bears that are known to visit the Rim Trail.) I jockeyed for a spot near the front a minute before the start, eager to run the best race I could. I think I heard someone say "Go!" and we were off.



The temperatures were coolish at the start of the race but everyone knew it would warm up to near record temps as the day progressed. I heard someone say that it was 20 degrees warmer this year than last. The first part of the race would be a 6 mile climb up to Hobart Aid Station, from Spooner Lake at 7000' up to 8500'. Without trying to go out too fast, I was able to work my way up into what I felt was the first 20 or so runners in the first miles as the trail meandered and slowly climbed a forested hillside. We started out on a double track road, but after a couple hundred yards we jumped onto a single track and the runners spread out into groups of people running at similar pace. Still not trying to run too fast, I found myself slowly working my way past runners for the first 3 or 4 miles.



The climb was fairly gradual over the entire distance with a couple of flat sections. The early trail was in the trees the entire time, the surface kind of a mix of sandy and rocky with some soft dirt sections, as well. Once, I arrived at Hobart, I decided to pass the first aid station without stopping since I still had a full water bottle and a half (I was carrying two)and had eaten one Honey Stinger gel.

The next leg was a longish traverse and climb (with a tiny section of snow) and then descent down to the Tunnel Creek Aid Station.



By now, I felt really warmed up and ended up chasing a really strong runner down a multitude of switchbacks in the forest. This 2 or so mile long downhill was one of the most fun parts of the race for me. The other runner kept a fast pace and I didn't have any trouble staying with him and no one was gaining ground on us. Towards the end, I backed off a little bit to save some for later in the race, as the other guy pressed on ahead. I coasted into Tunnel Creek feeling good and pumped for the next section, the infamous Red House Loop.



At the aid station, I had both of my water bottles filled with ice water and grabbed a handful of fruit and nuts to eat. I lingered just a moment and then started a climb out from Tunnel Creek. I think I ate my second gel about this time but don't really remember when. I brought 5 and ate one about every hour. I hiked alot of this section because it was pretty steep.



I think we were about 12 miles into the race by now so I knew I shouldn't try to run any uphills at this point. Too early. After the climb was a gnarly steep downhill. I figured this would go on for a while because of the reputation of the loop. About this time, I started seeing 100 mile race runners coming up from the Red House. A few were still rather upbeat but there were a couple who were really not liking that climb out. I had to slow myself down for some of the descent because it was so steep but I still made great time down to the bottom and the turnaround water station.



I only lingered for a second and started out of there quickly. The climb out wasn't that bad for a little while and I caught the guy I had chased down to Tunnel Creek and we both mostly ran this section. I liked his pace so I was happy to just hang behind him for a while. We passed a bunch more 100 mile racers and I tried to encourage all of them to have a great day (and night!) when we passed. Once we hit the steep part of the climb, I switched to hiking and started passing everybody I encountered all the way back up to Tunnel Creek. I was surprised how well I was climbing but it seemed like all my mountain running at home was really paying off. At Tunnel Creek, I took a few pictures, got some cold water and a few things to eat and took off again.

The next section was going back up the hill I had chased down earlier. The race started getting really tough in this section. Here was another big climb and the temps were starting to crank. I kept pounding water and steadily hiked everything steep. I eventually caught up to a cool guy named Mike from Phoenix, AZ. We started talking and it helped me take my mind off how my hamstrings were starting to hurt from the uphills. Turns out he is a fairly experienced ultrarunner and went to CU-Boulder. I was grateful for his company on the climb. As we crested the hill, we were treated to another great vista of Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe and we saw a couple mountain bikers who had stopped to take in the view, too. I almost ran on but when I saw Mike stop and ask for them to take his picture, I had to do the same. It was a beautiful spot. Shortly thereafter, the two of us hit Hobart.



At the aid station, I spent a couple minutes talking away with the volunteers. Man, they really made the race. All the people are so nice and helpful. Filling water bottles and getting you food and salt tablets or whatever. Giving you info on the course. So helpful. They even had a bar set up at this aid station and assured me I could have a shot of Jameson, if I wanted one. (I declined but apparently a couple of 100 milers didn't earlier in the day. I can't imagine.) I was curious what place I might be in because I kind of felt like I was doing pretty good. One of the volunteers said I might be in the top 10. "Really?! I better get going!" I was so surprised. Based on my goal time of 6 hours, I thought I might be doing pretty well but this was still a shock. I left the aid station and headed out noticing that Mike had already left maybe a minute or so earlier. I took off down the sandy trail and passed a group of kids walking to the aid station who told me I was in 12th. "Cool!" I thought.

The next few miles were a gradual climb up to Snow Valley Peak and the aid station there. Mike got away from me on this leg and I was content to run alone for awhile. While in the woods, I got passed by another runner as I stopped to take a picture of some really cool moss growing on a dead tree. It was a luminous green color and it just stopped me in my tracks. So cool looking. When we climbed out of the forest, I could see him every once in a while, only about an eighth or a quarter mile ahead of me. I just plugged along, put a little more snow in my hat and stuck to my steady uphill pace. As I ran down to the aid station, I could hear the volunteers cheering for me by name. I thought this was so cool. When I ran into the aid station I said, "I didn't realize I had so many friends here!" I had my water bottles filled with ice water and grabbed a quick orange slice and darted out for the next 5.5 mile downhill. At the aid station, I had managed to catch up to Mike and the other guy but I also saw a woman who had snuck up behind me. It didn't matter, the next leg would be my best running all day.

From Snow Valley Peak, the single track trail does a nice gradual, traversing downhill for about a mile or so before heading down into the woods. I was feeling so rejuvenated I just took off at about a 5:30 to 6:00/mile pace. I flew past Mike and caught the other runner in front of him about a minute later. Now, I was feeling really jazzed and kept a steady fast pace down the trail. I could see myself gaining on one more runner about an eighth of a mile down the trail and within 3 minutes I caught him and passed. I could hear him struggling a bit with the downhill and knew he wouldn't try to chase me. Once I hit the treeline, I just maintained my pace. The problem with my strategy was that when I left Snow Valley Peak, I didn't know how far it was to the finish or the next aid station. All I knew is that it was all downhill from here. I was gambling a bit but betting on myself. I looked at my GPS watch and saw my run time was 5:40. I decided to run the fastest pace I could maintain for the next 20 minutes and see where I was, hoping beyond hope that it was at the finish line.

I had the time of my life running down this trail, feeling good. I passed a couple groups of day hikers that were hiking up the trail and most of them cheered me on. A few looked puzzled. It was a great boost because I was starting to fade. I ate my last gel, kept pounding water or dumping it on me to stay cool and just hammered every step I could. At 5:58, I hit the final aid station, just a water stop, at Spooner Summit. I had my water bottles filled again and asked when the last runner came through. "The first woman left about 5 minutes ago." Rats. Wouldn't catch her. How far to the finish? 1.7 miles. "Oh, I got this!" I said as I ran off.

The last section was relatively flat as it worked it's way around Spooner Lake. The trail was heavily treed, so it was nice and shady but I couldn't see or hear the finish and I was SO ready to stop running. Still, I ran a steady pace and really felt like all my long runs this year (especially the day long outings with Katy) had really prepared my legs to keep running even after 6 hours. I was stoked. Finally, I turned the final corner and just burst into a near sprint. I could hear my sister yelling and saw her and my niece and I felt like a million bucks. I waved at them and crossed the finish line. Then, I sat down. Damn, that felt good.

A couple of other runners were still sitting at the finish and confirmed that I had finished 10th. I still couldn't believe it. I just walked around, stunned for a couple minutes, trying to soak in the whole experience. Checking the results online after getting home, I found out my official time was 6:11:13. I also found out that I had been racing against some pretty seasoned ultrarunners, including Tim Tweitmeyer (former record holder for the ENTIRE 165-MILE TAHOE RIM TRAIL), who finished 4th, about half an hour ahead of me.



I am really happy (obviously) by how the race played out. I think I can attribute my good run to several factors: 1. Several good long, slow runs after an early season of gradually rebuilding my mileage 2. Lots of hill work on my shorter runs and pushing it on those up and down hills 3. Resting when I needed to 4. Eating lots of nutritious, natural food and cutting back on sugar 5. Good lovin'!

This coming weekend, I really get to have some fun and run fast. I'm doing the Spring Creek Memorial 9 miler here in beautiful Steamboat Springs. It's my first time doing a race in the running series and I'm looking forward to it. Gotta represent at home!