Saturday, August 20th, 2:45 AM
The night’s sleep, if you can call it that, went roughly as expected. Nerves dominated my overnight “nap,” but I managed to at least get about 5 hours. I was probably already half-awake when the alarm went off. First tasks: hydrate, eat my oats, get dressed. Last year it was slightly chiller at the start (30s) – this year: the 40s… shorts weather! At 3:30, we drive a few minutes closer and walk the rest of the way to the start line.
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| Walking to the start line with Courtney |
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| At the start line with my parents and sister |
Saturday, August 20th, 3:59 AM
Go time. After exchanging hugs with my family, I’m ready for adventure! I barely hear the shotgun start at 4:00, and while I’m pretty sure I’m not hallucinating yet, I follow Hulk Hogan across the start line. Me and 700+ other headlamps set off down 6th Street into the darkness.
| Start of the 2022 Leadville 100 |
I start off cautiously, not wanting to anger anything right away. Starting closer to the middle of the pack helps me avoid the conga line along Turquoise Lake until the very end of the leg. I weave my way through the crowded field as we arrive at May Queen, checking into the first aid station (12.6 mi) in 2:38:12. Surprised to be 7 minutes behind last year already – and to get/stay ahead of the mass of runners fueling up around me, I make it a quick pit stop (3 minutes) with the crew.
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| Crew waiting for me to arrive at May Queen |
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| All smiles early on at May Queen |
I try to stay patient as I join this year’s conga line dancing its way up the singletrack trail to Hagerman Pass Road, where we finally get a little more breathing room. It is still cool and cloudy despite the sunrise, so the jacket and gloves stay on until we hit Hagerman. I cruised up Sugar Loaf last year, running a fair amount of the gentle(r) climb. I take it a little easier this year, walking more of it to conserve my energy and keep the niggles at bay. Before starting the steep descent down Power Line, I dodge a brief scare of needing to use my emergency toilet paper. I take my jacket off, but with the cloudy conditions, the arm warmers stay on. I handle the descent a little better (i.e. faster) this year and stay more relaxed coming in to the second checkpoint, Outward Bound (23.5 mi), at 5:00:41 – about 4 minutes behind last year.
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| Overlooking Turquoise Lake from Hagerman Pass Road |
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| The last little climb before lots and lots of downhill |
No laughable drizzle squirt of sunscreen needed this year, so I get a bug spray shower and 3 minutes later, I am off and running again.
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| Checking in with Courtney at Outward Bound |
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| A bit of blue sky peeks through as I take off from Outward Bound |
I avoid pushing as much on the paved portion this year, keeping things steady. The sun makes a nice cameo for a few minutes shortly before Half Pipe – enough to lose the arm warmers, but the clouds take over again soon enough. I feel strong as I pass through Half Pipe (29.3 mi) without stopping, 4 minutes ahead of last year (6:01:08).
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| Cruising on Forest Road 130S after Half Pipe |
| Starting to tire in the aspen grove near Mt. Elbert |
Despite tiring a little on the climb up to Mt. Elbert (35.3 mi), it’s still easy enough to enjoy the singletrack through a beautiful aspen grove. Then it's time for downhill. Boy am I happy to be rolling down into Twin Lakes (37.9 mi). While I “lost” a good 10+ minutes between HP and TL, I’m still feeling good about things. At 8:17:10, I’m still over 70 minutes in front of the cutoff. I enjoy a few minutes with my crew, get another bug spray shower, and gratefully grab my poles – time for the fun to really begin…
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| Happy to be arriving in Twin Lakes |
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| Re-stocking at Twin Lakes outbound |
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| Poles in hand, it's time to get to work! |
Splash! It’s not quite as refreshing going through the river with no sun this year, but at least it’s the warmest part of the day (upper 50s).
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| Crossing the creek before the big climb |
Last year, I charged up to Hope Pass. Knowing that I had plenty of time to get to Winfield if I hadn’t gotten injured, I settle into a steady climb this time. It’s a long climb with some pretty steep sections; we go from the lowest point on the course (river crossing at 9200’) to the highest (Hope Pass at 12,500’) in 4.5 miles. Just before I emerge from the forest, about a mile before Hopeless Aid Station, I hear rain falling and the wind picking up. Even on such a long climb, it feels a little cool. Rain jacket: ON. I arrive at Hopeless (43.5 mi, 10:53:31) after a half hour of drizzle, and I’m feeling like I could use a bathroom stop. No way they have a bathroom way up here, right? I’ll just try to hold it until Winfield. I get some mashed potatoes from “volunteer” Neal (as opposed to “coach” Neal or “friend” Neal) and set out on the last stretch of the climb. I cheer on Rodrigo, the Dream Chaser, who catches me just before the top.
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| I've been caught by Rodrigo |
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| Happy to be at the top! |
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| On to Winfield! |
Saturday, August 20th, 3:00 PM-ish
My first step down from Hope Pass does NOT send a shooting pain through my foot like last year – sweet! Unfortunately, my stomach starts majorly cramping. Trying to hold things together makes me double over in pain several times on the way down. Afraid to eat anything, I’m able to shuffle along the entire 6.5 miles down to Winfield. Man, that trip down to Winfield is ALWAYS longer than I think… I am even more thankful to arrive there than I was at Twin Lakes! I head straight for the port-a-potties; needless to say, this one ends up a lengthy aid station stop. I depart Winfield (50+ miles) just before 5pm, refreshed and a million times more comfortable.
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| Clouds add more drama to the climb back up to Hope Pass |
The climb up the back side of Hope Pass is never easy… steep, sweaty, grueling. Having left some…weight…back in Winfield, I have a pretty good couple of miles leading up to the sheep trail. That’s where it gets gnarly. While it’s shorter than the front end, it’s even steeper (generally 15-30% grade?), gaining almost 2000 feet in about 2.25 miles. I felt strong, though, and lighter. I slog up to the pass in about 75 minutes, much faster than last year’s hobble up (~100 minutes). I am ecstatic to reach Hope Pass again. At this point, I know that I can make it.
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| Daylight hinting at sunset as I reach treeline |
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| Pumped to enjoy the sunset from the top of Hope Pass |
I take in the sunset as I descend into Hopeless inbound (56.5 mi), about 15.5 hours in. No need for medical care this year – just some mashed potatoes and broth; headlamp and jacket back on, I’m out quickly. Oh hey, what do you know, there’s a little tent with a toilet! Clearly, I should have asked on the way up… There is still some light left as I descend 3000’ in 4 miles. A slight stomach cramp about halfway down brings back thoughts of the trip down to Winfield, but it passes. I did start eating again after Winfield but probably should still be getting more calories.
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| Obligatory llama selfie! |
The second time through the river is a tad chillier, but I’m in good spirits. Last year, I came into Twin Lakes inbound (62.5 mi) knowing that I was done. This year, I feel tears building, but tears of joy instead of pain and disappointment. A surprise appearance by my buddy Drew adds to the adrenaline as I sit down for a change (of socks and shoes) at Twin Lakes. He takes great care of my feet, checking for blisters during the necessary shoe swap. You want Drew on your crew. Your crew wants Drew on your crew. After 9 minutes at Twin Lakes, Ben – my first pacer – and I begin the 3-mile climb out of Twin Lakes, about 17.5 hours in and 30 minutes ahead of the cut.
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| Shoe change at Twin Lakes inbound |
I enjoy the company and comfort of having someone there to keep me moving the rest of the way. We chat a bit and tell a few jokes. My knee starts bothering me a little before Mt. Elbert (65.1 mi); while warming in the tent, I ask if they have any Tylenol or Icy Hot – no luck. The pain isn’t enough to slow me too much; Half Pipe (71.1 mi) comes and goes (20:41:51). Ben’s enthusiasm and energy keeps me going, especially the last mile into Outward Bound that seems to take FOR. EVER. Finally, after precariously navigating the ankle-shattering cow pasture, we pull into Outward Bound (76.9 mi) just after 2am.
Sunday, August 21st, 2:21 AM
The cold just sits in the basin here. Typically, temps plummet into the 20s, but with the overcast skies, the temps don’t dip much below 40. Despite the knee discomfort, Ben and I were able to make up some time, coming in nearly 1 hour ahead of cutoff. Confident that I don’t need the heavy jacket, I put on a warmer layer. After spending a little too much time (17 minutes) near the fires at Outward Bound, we need to get moving. Pacer #2, Neal, lights a fire as soon as we get out onto the road.
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| Getting some warmer clothes on at Outward Bound |
I break into a labored run – even on the uphill parts of the road, somehow. [That was the last time I felt like I really wanted to run, which was probably a stretch even at that point.] Neal knows what he’s doing and knows that I need to keep moving to make the May Queen cut. One last big climb – Power Line – looms.
This is where the grunting begins. I put my head down and go – I feel like a machine going up Power Line: we clock a 22-23 minute average pace up the 4-mile, 1500’ climb. Relieved when we reached the top, I am mostly oblivious to the party going on at “Space Camp” (crazy unofficial aid station). It‘s mostly downhill from here, but that doesn’t mean a ton when you’re 83 miles and 24+ hours in. Neal urges me to keep pushing, and again, somehow I do. Later I told Neal, “I kind of hated you the whole way, but THANK YOU!”
Sunday, August 21st, 6:00 AM
In an ultra, it’s inevitable that there will be lows. It’s about how you respond – and persevering through those lows, knowing a high will eventually come. May Queen (87.8 mi) is one of those lows; probably the lowest point emotionally for me. I am hurting. I am exhausted. I imagine it was hard for my family to see me like this; what I didn’t have the capacity to communicate at May Queen as I took a seat and shed some tears was that despite how much pain I was in, there was absolutely no way I was dropping, and no doubt in my mind that I was finishing this thing.
Sunrise is on the horizon. Too tired to cry anymore, and with encouragement from my crew, my final pacer – my sister Vicki – and I take off toward Turquoise Lake. We barely make it out of the aid station when I decide I should make another bathroom stop at the campground toilets. It adds a few minutes and a lot more stress, but we hit the trail again ready to go – time to bring it home.
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| Relentless forward motion - after sunrise at Turquoise Lake |
Probably the funniest part of the experience happens around mile 90. After passing another runner, Vicki suggests it is “a good time to run a little” – I think, “I AM running!” 😊 Apparently it didn’t look like it! Vicki does a great job getting me to run in spurts; she demands, and like a good little brother, I listen. We somehow manage to move at about a 16:00 pace most of the way around the lake. We have about 75 minutes to go the last 3.5 miles uphill into the finish. Very doable.
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| Determination on the boulevard |
Shortly after we get to the “boulevard” (county road 36), we see my dad running toward us – he had run the 3+ miles from the finish line out to meet us. His excitement is evident, while I’m in full grunt mode (sorry, Vic!). We pick up Drew with about a mile to go. 30 minutes before the buckle cutoff… I’m going to do it! Before turning onto 6th Street for the final stretch, they help me get my windpants off so that my bib is visible for the finish, to the amusement of some young spectators on the corner.
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| Final stretch with the crew! |
I don’t even really notice the last little uphill on 6th Street before we can see the finish. After 100 miles in the mountains, it could have gone either way… Watching runners appear at the top of that hill is a cool thing to see as a spectator – and cresting that hill as a runner coming to the finish is, well, just as cool. The finish line is now in sight! We start “running” with a little over 1/4 mile to go, growing in numbers along the way: we’re joined by my wife Courtney, my mom, and the other crew. The energy is incredible as I close in on Harrison Ave. I hold back tears and ride the wave through the narrowing crowd to finish in 29:46:02 – with 14 minutes to spare.
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| FINISH!! |
| Coming into the finish! credit: Melanie Bryant |
Sunday, August 21st, 9:47 AM
I receive my medal, then a belt buckle and hug from race co-founder Merilee, and then find my family. And a chair. As I down a chocolate milk, some water, and a few potato chips, I sit there and let out some tears of joy, relief, and disbelief. Surrounded by people that I love. [It took a while for it to really sink in that I had done it... hours? days? weeks?)] We talk, high-five, and take pictures. I try to eat a breakfast burrito. After a while, I need to use the finish line port-a-potties. My legs refuse when I rise from the chair, so Courtney and my dad each lend a shoulder. About halfway there, we pass the medical tent and decide to see how things are going in there…
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| At the finish line with my crew |
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| Showing off the goods |
My achy legs are so painful, hurting more than any point during the race, and I get very cold. The staff helps me to a cot and cover me with some heavy blankets and/or sleeping bags. It feels like forever for me to warm up even a little; meanwhile, I cannot get comfortable. My whole body aches (particularly the hips). My vitals seem to be normal; apparently, I win the day for highest blood oxygen level (99%?) in the finish line medical tent. Go me! After a while, we decide it’s not going to get much better in there – what I really need is a hot shower and some warm clothes. [I can’t remember if I even ended up going to the bathroom!]
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| The legs were done... |
With assistance, I get into a nice hot shower, which I enjoy for a long time (sorry drought-ridden west). Immediately after, I follow the lead of my crew one more time: nap time! After waking, I am moving surprisingly well. Relatively, anyway...
According to caloriesburnedhq.com, I burned roughly 14,000 calories in the race. A late lunch at Tennessee Pass Café gets me started on replenishing. If we assume 700-calorie meals for easy math, I still need 19 more meals to fully replenish...
For the next two weeks, I couldn’t get enough to eat. With the caveat that I didn’t even think about trying to run, the muscle soreness wore off after a couple of days; the knee was sore for about a week. But mostly I was hungry. And tired.
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| Medal, Buckle, Number, Poster |
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