Leadville 100 2011 – Race Report

As you all know, I attempted the Leadville 100 last year and DNFd at mile 53.  I came back this year dedicated to redeeming myself.

Last year, the night before the race, I slept maybe a total of 3 hours.  This year was much much better.  Despite thunderstorms throughout the night ( I was in a tent at Sugar Loafin' campground), I slept pretty well.  I woke up around 2:15 am ready to go.  My friend and fellow racer, Nick Dale, made our way to the start around 3:40am.  The start was signaled at 4:00am, as is tradition in Leadville, with the blast of a  shotgun into the cold mountain morning air.  We were off.

Start to May Queen - 13.5 miles

My strategy this year was to push myself hard from the start.  I wanted to leave absolutely nothing out on the trail this year.  I ran at a decent pace all the way to the first real climb which is only about .5 miles from the forest road up to Turquoise Lake.  I hiked the

Power Line Trail

short climb at a decent rate and started on the trail around the lake.  This early in the morning it's still pitch black outside and a headlamp is required.  The darkness, even with the best headlamp, makes the root and rock covered trail hazardous in spots.  The first half of the trip around the lake went really well.  After that point, the trail becomes single-track with almost no spots to pass other racers.  Just as I did last year, this year I got stuck in a long line of other runners so I was forced to walk and run whenever the leader walked and ran.  We all snaked up and down the trail into May Queen Campground, the first aid station of the course.  I covered the 13.5 miles in 2:14:37 (roughly 10:00/mi pace).  Almost 33 minutes faster than last year.  So far so good.

May Queen to Fish Hatchery - 26.5 miles overall

The sun was up at this point but it was still really cold.  I had ditched my gloves in May Queen and holding my ice cold water bottles was making my hands freeze.  I made decent time up the 3 mile or so climb up to Hagerman Rd and jogged a slight trot to the beginning of the climb up 11,000' Sugarloaf Pass.  I hiked the climb to the summit of Sugarloaf at a pretty decent rate (my goal is to be able to run this section next year, it really is runnable).  Last year I made a slow descent down the Powerline trail trying to save my legs for the rest of the race.  This year I bombed down the trail as fast as I could and I made decent time into the Fish Hatchery.  I arrived there in 4:32:30 (30 minutes faster than last year).  I was still feeling great at this point.     

Fish Hatchery to Tree Line - appx. 30 miles overall

The stretch from Fish Hatchery is short but sometimes brutal if it's hot.  It's a relatively flat section of pavement.  Last year I was forced to walk the majority of this section just because it was hot and there's no shade of any kind.  I was determined to run as much as I could this year and I did just that.  I only walked maybe 100 yards of the 4-4.5 miles.  Treeline is only a crew access point, not an official aid station.  I arrived feeling pretty good.  For the first time in the race I sat down here.   I took some time and ate plenty of food and hydrated well.

Tree Line to Half Pipe - a couple of miles from Tree Line

Half Pipe is a new aid  station this year replacing Half Moon II.  It's only a couple of miles from Tree Line on forest road so the section here is pretty uneventful.

Refueling in Twin Lakes

Half Pipe to Twin Lakes - 39.5 miles overall

The difficulty of this section is often overlooked which is a huge mistake.  The first few miles are on a more or less flat section of forest road.  I did pretty well here.  I didn't run a lot of it but that's only because all of the food I had eaten at Tree Line kicked in and I was feeling great and speed-walking a 12:00/mi pace.  No need to try and run when I'm doing that.  After the road, the course changes direction and heads up the Colorado Trail.  This is when things get tough.  The initial climb is pretty brutal and seems to never end.  Luckily, this year I focused on my hiking ability and my legs were much stronger than last year.  I was able to hike the climbs at a pretty good pace, without stopping, and run the downhills.  Still, this section is always pretty tough.  I arrived in Twin Lakes in 8:22:41 (22 minutes faster than last year which was still much slower than I wanted to be).  The sun was beating down now and I was ridiculously hot.  Unfortunately, there's zero shade in Twin Lakes.  I sat on the steps of the convenient store and fueled up and hydrated.  Last year Hope Pass ended my race so I wanted to make sure I was fueled and ready before making the climb this year.  Lindsey had been soaking a white handkerchief in ice water. I put that on my head, under my visor, and it cooled me off really well.  We had run out of ice at this point and it was too hot to drink warm fluids so Lindsey went into the store and bought some ice for my water bottles (which ended up being amazing).   I got some rocks out of one of my shoes and headed for the pass.

Hope Pass to Winfield - 50 miles overall

Heading for Hope Pass

The grass section from Twin Lakes to the river crossing is runnable but it's pretty risky; I've turned an ankle more than once here so I  walked speedily most of the way to the river.  The river was just below my knees and felt really good on my legs and feet.  I paused for a minute to soak my knees.  Next, the tough part began.  The summit of Hope Pass is about 5 miles and 3,000' from Twin Lakes.  Last year the climb completely killed me.  This year I felt as though I was much better prepared but the climb still destroyed me.  I did pretty well in the beginning but as it got steeper I had to take a couple of short rests.  There's really no good way to train for what it's like to make a climb like that after running 40 miles.  By the time I made it to the Hopeless Aid Station just below the summit of Hope Pass my water had warmed so I got new cold water and headed down the other side of the mountain.  Last year my quads were totally shredded by this point and I had to painfully struggle all the way down.  This year, I was able to run most of the way and by the time I reached the bottom I was feeling great--that would fade fast.   The section of road from the bottom of Hope Pass into Winfield is slightly uphill but pretty brutal after going 47 miles. And, there's not much shade.  In addition, there's usually quite a bit of traffic kicking up dust which is no fun to inhale.  There were race officials at the bottom of Hope giving out surgical masks to help with the dust but I just decided to deal with it.  I wasn't able to run any of the road section but I walked quickly.  There were clouds starting to move into the area and I got sprinkled on for about 10 minutes but upon arriving in Winfield my crew told me that it had poured there for quite a while so I was lucky to miss the rain.

I arrived at the  aid station in 13:09:58. 40 minutes faster than last year,and 50 minutes under the cutoff, but hours slower than where I wanted to be--the climb up Hope Pass did me in again.  Luckily I had  time this year to recover in Winfield.  I sat down and ate and drank as much as I could.  Lindsey rubbed Aspercreme into my knees (which felt great) and massaged my shoulders a little bit (they were dead from carrying my water bottles for so long).  After a few minutes I was ready to make the return trip over Hope Pass.  The climb from the Hope Pass trail head to the summit on the Winfield side is about 2,000' in roughly 2.5  miles--it's brutal at best.  But,  I had put down times of 1:06 and 1:15 in training on this climb so that gave me some confidence.  But, it wasn't going to be easy.   I had just over 4 hours to check in at the Twin Lakes aid station to make the cutoff.  I knew I would have to put in a pretty good performance to make it in under the wire.  I had a three-pronged approach: Tylenol, Caffeine, and my pacer (and cousin/running/business partner) Ian.

Climbing Hope

Hope Pass to Twin Lakes - 60.5 miles overall

A short break to refuel before pushing for the summit

I took one Tylenol to take a little of the sting out of my legs.  Next, I drank quite a bit of Coke (which I had flattened earlier in the week).  I pried myself out of my chair and started the trek.  Ian and I walked the first 1/4 of a mile or so of  the road before running the rest of the way to the trail head.  We both ate a gel about 20 minutes before  the trail head to have a little boost of energy to start the climb.  It begun.  I kept my head down and kept putting one foot in front of the other.  The combination of stronger legs this year, caffeine,  Tylenol, and Aspercreme resulted in us being able to hike pretty quickly (much faster than I imagined I would have been capable of at that point).  We passed numerous other runners and pacers.  I told Ian that I wanted to repeat something that I had done in training with good results: stop in a particular group of trees just before timberline and eat a gel--during training it always gave me enough energy to make the summit with no problems.  We reached the group of trees and I sat down and ate the gel next to another runner who had decided to take a break at the same spot.  Once the gel was down we continued and made the summit pretty easily (and quickly) considering I had been moving for about 55 miles now.  I was so amped on caffeine and simple sugars that, upon reaching the summit of Hope, I yelled out "Oh Hope Pass! Somebody's stronger this year bitch!!" Which made all the runners and pacers around me laugh.  I didn't care; making the summit for the second time in the race was a huge mental boost especially because I never made it this far during the race last year.  We made the summit, from the trail head to the top, in 1:20 which is astonishingly fast for me considering the fact that I had gone more than 50 miles at this point and that time is only slightly slower than the times I put down in training.

I was so pumped up that I was ready to attack the trail back down into Twin Lakes.  We stopped briefly at the aid station to fill fluids and then began the descent.  The summit push we made was impressive; the descent was down-right amazing in terms of what I thought I was capable of.  Even during training I was never really able to put together good downhill running on this part of the course.  But, Ian and I, headlamps on in the dark now, totally dominated the downhill.  My legs felt great and we flew (relatively speaking).  Ian (a skilled trail runner) stayed right on my heels and kept me on a strict fluid intake clock.  We were able to exchange bottles without stopping--handing them back and forth.  We didn't stop at all from the summit down to the bottom of the mountain.  I've never had a section of running that went so well in all of my training and certainly never experienced a run where I was so in sync with another runner.  This, I imagine, is how the elites feel when their races are going extremely well (not that I have any delusions of speed; we weren't amazingly fast but it was incredibly fast for where I was in the race).  To top it off, Ian was texting updates down to the crew, and taking pictures, while we were running--nice job man.  We sped-walked the flat section to the river crossing and then into Twin Lakes.

I checked into Twin Lakes at 17:03:43.  We had made the crossing in about 3.5 hours and made it 42 minutes under the cutoff.

Just making the summit. Huge mental boost here.

Ian and I on the summit of Hope. My face is a combination of "I made it to the top of Hope Pass for the second time!!" and "I still have 45 miles to go."

Ian and the llamas at the Hopeless Aid Station (Ian had only done 5 miles at this point)

Twin Lakes to Half Pipe -   70.9 miles overall

In Twin Lakes I changed out of my Montrail Rogue Racers.  I dried the cold river water off of my feet and put on dry socks.  I put on my Vasque Mindbenders (the same pair I ran the race in last year; I hadn't worn them much since then).  They were a welcome change for my feet.  And, getting dry socks on felt great.

By the time Ian and I made it out of Twin Lakes, we had about 3 hours to make the cutoff 10.4 miles away at the Half Pipe aid station.  And, this section of the trail is no joke in this direction.  It climbs straight out of Twin Lakes and doesn't stop for a long long time.  As we rounded the corner in town and as Ian saw the trail he said "Is that it?! Man, it get real right away, huh?".  Yes, yes it does.  We climbed.  And climbed.  And climbed. It was never ending.  In the pitch dark we couldn't see the crest.  We could only see the occasional headlamps of runners and pacers ahead of us up the hill to see how far we had to go.  I had to stop briefly multiple times to try and catch mybreath.   I don't know if it was because of the caffeine or just because I had been going for so long, but no matter how long we stopped I just couldn't catch my breath.  And, to top it off, my stomach was started to get angry.  I was feeling nauseous and any time I ate or drank I would get the hiccups.  It was really strange (and annoying after a while).  We marched along.  After what seemed like forever, we finally reached the final descent down off the Colorado Trail and onto the forest road.  I can't remember for sure but I don't think I had any run left in me at this point.  I think we walked all the way into Half Pipe.  We arrived in 20:21:24 (54 minutes under the cutoff). From here we walked the couple of miles to Lindsey and the rest of the crew that were waiting at Tree Line.

Ian paced me for a total of about 22 miles including the summit of Hope Pass.  He later told me that the longest run he had ever done in his life was 15 miles.  hahaha.   Thanks for waiting until after we were done to tell me that.

Tree Line to Fish Hatchery -  76.5 miles overall

I knew I would have to hurry to have any chance of making the cutoff at the Fish Hatchery.  The problem was that my stomach was still turning and I hadn't eaten anything in a while.  And, it was now freezing.  My body had lost all ability to regulate its own temperature.  After moments of plopping into the chair at Tree Line I was shivering uncontrollably.  Lindsey wrapped me in blankets which helped only a little.  While I knew that I needed to get out of there to start the road into Fish Hatchery, I also knew that if I didn't get myself back together that I had no chance of making the cutoff at all.

I asked Lindsey to make me some chicken broth which sounded amazing at that point.  While she heated in the van I sat in the chair trying to drink any fluids and shivering severely.  Once the broth was ready I drank a few sips before I felt a sudden cough coming on.  It quickly and unexpectedly turned into me puking my brains out.

There I was.  In the middle of the night.  73 or so miles into the Leadville 100.  Freezing my ass off.  Sitting in the middle the mountains, vomiting over the side of a camping chair.  If there was a low point to my race (hell, my year) this was probably it.  The only upside was "I'm 73 miles into Leadville 100!!! WOOHOO!!"  Lindsey rubbed my back (hats off to her for not gagging and running away).  The positive was that I felt 100 times better after puking.  I drank the rest of the broth and Lindsey forced me out of the chair (and out of the warm blankets; not that they were helping much).

I had done the math and new my chances of making the cutoff at the Fish Hatchery was pretty slim but I was determined to give it a try ("leave nothing on the trail").  I walked to the road and then began trotting along as fast as I could (which was really slow).  I ran as much as I absolutely could and walked when I absolutely had to.  Once I got closer to the Fish Hatchery I looked at my GPS, calculated the distance I had to cover and the time I had to cover it and realized that I couldn't do it.  I realized that my race was over.  I was crushed.  I'd come all this way only to fall short once again.  Another year of training behind me and I still wasn't good enough.  This course defeated me once again.  I marched down the road toward the aid station determined to at least have my wrist band cut off like a man.  Within the next couple of minutes I told myself all kinds of things to try and come to terms with my defeat.  "I had given it my best; it just wasn't good enough this year."  "I'll be back next year for sure." "At least now I can go to sleep."

That's when it happened.  A man walked up to me from the direction of the Hatchery. "C'mon man you can still make it! I just walked from the Hatchery.  It's only 1/2 mile away. You can still make it but you have to run a little bit!"

"Only 1/2 mile???" I thought it was still 1 mile away. I had done the math wrong or figured the distance wrong or it was shorter than I thought.  Either way, if the anonymous man was right, I STILL HAD A CHANCE!!  I started jogging as fast as I could (which, like before, was still really slow).  I could see the Hatchery now and I was determined to make it or die trying.

I checked into the Fish Hatchery at 22:54:34 (5.5 minutes under the cutoff).  I made it.  Within a matter of seconds I'd gone from utter defeat and disappointment, nearly fighting back tears, to absolute adrenaline--"I'M STILL IN THIS THING!!!"

Fish Hatchery to May Queen - 86.5 miles overall

I made a quick stop at Lindsey to get water and gear.  I had about 3:30 to cover the 10 miles into May Queen which included climbing 11000' SugarLoaf Pass.  I headed off and started mentally preparing make the climb up Powerline.

Powerline is tough in the daylight.  It's terrible in the dark.  At least in the light you can see the multiple small summits and on to the next.   In the dark you can't see anything (obviously).  You can't see the top of the climb you're on.  You can't see across to the next summit.  You can't see the final summit.  I climbed as fast as I could (which was slow) and took short breaks when I had to.  I climbed forever.  It seemed like I would never make the top.  The sun had come up enough to bring about early twilight.  I was cursing the mountain out loud for about  5 minutes before it was light enough for me to see one of the towers above timberline--I was at the top!  Realizing I had made the climb was energizing.  Now it was time for the descent.

I was hoping to be able to run the descent down Sugarloaf but my legs just weren't having it.  I walked as fast as I could down to Hagerman Rd.  Once on the road I was able to jog most of the way to the turn off onto the Colorado Trail.  I hiked the trail, running when I could (which wasn't very often), making my way down to the road which would lead me into May Queen.  the battery on my GPS had died at this point so I wasn't 100% sure of how much ground I still had to cover.  Although, my GPS proved me wrong into the Hatchery so maybe it didn't really matter.  I ran up on another runner and his pacer and we made the way off of the trail onto the road together.  I was pretty sure that we were going to make it in time but we ran just to be sure.

I checked into May Queen in 26:21:40 (8 minutes under the cutoff).

May Queen to the Finish - 100 miles overall!

I made the stop at May Queen pretty quick.  I knew I still had a challenge ahead of me to make it to the finish under the cutoff.  I still had to make my way around Turquoise Lake on the single track trail and then on the road all the way into Leadville.  My legs were feeling really heavy.  I knew I needed a pick up; some change to make my legs feel  lighter.  I decided to go against conventional wisdom and change into my lightweight shoes.  I put on my New Balance MT100s (I never saw  a reason to upgrade to the MT101, maybe the 110 when it comes out).  They felt great!  My feet felt light and my legs had more energy.  I ran every flat and downhill on the trail around the lake only walking the uphills.  I made it to Tabor Boat Ramp in pretty good time.  I met my crew there and stocked up on water and gels for the final push to the finish even though I couldn't eat or drink anything at that point.  The hiccups were back and they were worse.  Now, whenever I ate anything, even gel, or drank anything, even a sip, I got the hiccups.  I had to walk or stop until they went away before continuing.  I knew I didn't have time for that so I decided to not eat or drink anything rather than deal with the hiccups.

I made it the rest of the way around the lake and down mini-powerline onto the forest road.  I committed to running the entire road until Sugar Loafin' campground.  That's where my crew and I were staying and I was hoping that my running partner Nick Dale, who had DNFd in Twin Lakes outbound roughly 18 hours earlier, would be waiting for me there.  As I got closer I could hear him and his family cheering.  Knowing they were there gave me the motivation to run the entire way to them.  Nick let me know how far I had to go and how quickly I had to do it.  I couldn't get the energy to run again after the turn onto the road through private property.  Once I was about 1/8 of a mile from the turn up to the little climb in the road I decided to run until the turn.  I knew I'd be walking the climb so I wanted to at least run a little bit.

By this time, the sun was blazing and there's not much shade on the road to the finish line.  I was ridiculously hot and dehydrated.  I drank my entire water bottle in no time.  But, I had no electrolytes and I was sweating buckets.  I had my GPS but I wasn't really sure how far away the finish line was.  It was going to be close for sure but I was determined not to make it this far and still fall short.  I jogged on the road as much as I could.  Eventually I came to a family that was sitting at the end of their driveway cheering on the remaining runners.  I asked them how far it was to the finish and they told me the exact distance to the pavement and the exact distance to the finish from there.  I did quick math in my head and knew that I could just barely walk the rest of the way and still make it in time but I didn't want to leave anything to chance.  I continued to jog when I could.  With no water left in my bottle and the sun beating down it was a struggle to keep moving forward at all.

Just before I reached the pavement I came up on another runner and his pacer.  I asked them if they had any extra water.  The pacer told his runner to keep going and he stopped to help me.  He quickly pulled the valve out of the tube of his hydration pack and siphoned water into my water bottle filling it to the top.  He put his valve back in while he ran to catch his runner.  This all took only a few seconds and I can't thank that guy enough.  I quickly chugged all of that water and sweat it out just as fast.  I wasn't going to start winning the hydration battle without any electrolytes but I couldn't risk anything upsetting my stomach at this point and putting my finish in jeopardy so I just fought to keep moving forward.

Heading for the finish

Eventually I crested the hill in town and I could see the finish line.  I was so close.  A guy ran up and asked me if I had a pacer to take me in to the finish.  I told him I didn't.  He told me that he was pretty sure that I could walk all the way to the finish but he would help me ensure that I made it in time if I wanted him to.  I agreed.  We discussed my current state and I told him I could run slightly if I needed to.  We ran down the hill for maybe 1/8th of a mile.  That's all it took to make sure I would earn my first buckle.  My crew met me on the road and we walked toward the finish line at 6th and Harrison.  I walked up the red carpet and crossed the finish line in 29:50:33 (9.5 minutes under the cutoff).  Only 6 people finished under the cutoff after me.

I wish I could say that I took the time to enjoy the experience.  The problem was that I was in really pretty bad shape physically and all I wanted to do was cross the finish line and get to the lawn in front of the courthouse to lie down in the shade.  I crossed the line but I never made it onto the lawn.  I took a detour through the medical tent on the way.  I headed to scales to weigh out of the finish area but I was hunched over with Lindsey holding me up and I was unable to even get on the scale.  The Dr. took one look at me  and helped Lindsey get me into a cot in the tent.  I was so dehydrated that I was freezing and shivering despite it being around

85 degrees in the tent.  The medics took my vitals and all was ok.  They wrapped me in sleeping bags and Lindsey ran out to the finish area to get some soup.  She spent the next 1.5 hours hand feeding me Gatorade and hot soup before I was able to speak coherently again.  I really was feeling great all the way until about mile 95.  That's when the heat and lack of fuel/electrolytes

Finished

caught up with me.  Luckily I was just able to make it to the finish line.  The downside of finishing so late and spending so much time in the medical tent after the race was that I was unable to attend the awards ceremony so I didn't receive my finisher's buckle.  Now I have to wait for it to arrive in the mail.

Now, a week later, I feel pretty well on my way to a full recovery.  My legs were super sore for a couple of days but felt much better after that.  My feet and toes hurt and were swollen for a few days but I kept them elevated and iced and they're almost back to normal.  Hopefully I'll be ready to start training for next year in the next couple of weeks.  Next year: under 25 hours.

The main lesson to take away from my race is: NEVER STOP MOVING FORWARD.  Even when I knew in my mind that my race was over just before Fish Hatchery, I still kept moving forward in the direction of the aid station.  It turned out that I had figured everything wrong and I still made it in time (and eventually to the finish).  It would have been so easy for me to just give up and sit down on the side of the road for a while.  In addition, it's totally possible to be battling the cutoffs all the way on the inbound and still cross the finish line in under 30 hours.  It's not fun, but possible.

A HUGE thank you to all of my crew that came out and helped me achieve this goal.  There's no way I could have done it without you.  I promise to train even harder this year so we can all, hopefully, go to bed a little earlier next year

In the med tent after the race.