Leadville 2021 - Race Report

Race Day: August 21, 2021

No matter when you go to bed, 2:45am is butt crack early. I get dressed, gobble down some breakfast (overnight oats, half a bagel, and an RX bar), and honor the long-standing tradition of making room for my race nutrition (if you know what I mean). The crew car is already mostly packed from the night before, so I grab my banana, slip on pair #1, and head out the door at 3:25. Now, when you’re at 10,000’ – even in August – your windshield frosts overnight. We still have plenty of time as we pull away, but Lesson #1: start the car early.

We almost snag a parking spot right near the starting line, but another car sneaks in, so they drop me off and park a block or two away (which is still pretty good!), I think. It’s a cool, crisp 36°F and mostly clear – thankfully, not smokey. I’m wearing my orange puffy coat on top for warmth before getting going but am nice and comfortable in shorts. I stretch a little before my crew joins me, though I’m mostly just milling around the start area as more people begin to fill the empty spaces around me.

At the starting line with Courtney / with Vicki & Dad

At some point, I reach for the packet of Kleenex I brought with me for the first section and come up empty. Maybe it fell out of my pocket before getting out of the car; Courtney runs back to see if she can find it. Turns out it was in my jacket pocket all along… She’s gone for longer than I expected, and it’s starting to get so crowded now; I’m getting nervous that I won’t find her again before the start. She returns – phew! Lesson #2: if you don’t have it at the starting line (unless it’s critical), it’s not worth the anxiety of sending your spouse back to find it! The fact that I had trouble remembering it was the Kleenex packet shows how important it was(n’t).

Start of the 2021 Leadville 100

BANG! The shotgun signals the 4am start after a rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner and we’re off. With everyone’s headlamps, it really isn’t that dark. 1356 legs pound the pavement and whoops and hollers fill the air as we make our way down 6th Street, headed for the mountains. Less than a quarter mile in, most of us walk the course’s first hill. It seems silly when it’s only a couple dozen feet of gain, but I guess we want to save our legs 😊 We descend into the darkness on a dirt road and my brain defeats the excitement that is trying to trick me into picking up the pace. I started toward the back in an effort to keep myself from going too fast out of the gate. Keep reading – that will be lesson #3... I stop to pee in the woods around Mile 2 and shortly thereafter, I pass a guy running in sandals. Barefoot Ted and I have a quick friendly exchange; I say something stupid and garbled.

Mountains in the morning twilight, County Road 36

We turn right after Mile 5 and make our way up “mini Powerline” – the first somewhat significant climb (about 150’ in a quarter mile). I maintained about an 11:00 pace on the roads for the first 5 miles. I probably could have gone a little faster, but it was comfortable. The chill starts to really set in as we reach Turquoise Lake after conquering our first mini climb. It’s probably down around freezing now; good thing we’re moving! The trail narrows to a wide single track and the passing game begins. I make some headway as we make our way around the lake and past the campgrounds, where many people have already woken. Crazy people up before sunrise... I have to pee again at 7.5 and lose that progress.

The sun begins to rise over Turquoise Lake

I also get stuck in the conga line. The frustration steadily increases, especially when those in front start walking some of the flat parts (and around the lake is pretty flat). My 12:00 pace slips over 13:00. Keep calm – the energy you save now will help you later, Mike. {Ironically, I probably spent more energy on the frustration.} Finally freed at Mile 12 as we hit the paved campground road, I hustle the half mile to first aid station. I get my bottles filled, skip the spread, grab my drop bag, and head to meet my crew on the other side of the bridge. Feeling good at this point, and I’m happy to see my family. I roll into May Queen outbound well behind schedule, over 2:30 into the race (6:30 am). Lesson #3: don’t start too far back – you’ll get stuck in the conga line around Turquoise Lake. I probably lost a good 10-15 minutes there.

Free to roam at May Queen campground before the first aid station

MAY QUEEN OUTBOUND – 6:31 am – 12.6 miles, 2:31:02

Transferring trash at May Queen outbound

I spend 3-4 minutes at May Queen OB. I grab my hat and a few food items and try to stay ahead of the conga line. Turns out my crew actually grabbed my drop bag already, so I apparently picked up my inbound drop bag… they run it back to the aid station for later as I go. I run a bit of the road to the trailhead and gain a better position before hitting singletrack on the CDT/CT (Continental Divide Trail/Colorado Trail). The first mile or so on the trail is pretty easy running, though the footing is a little tricky in spots. I chat for a few minutes with a guy from Maryland. I bid him farewell and good luck as we start climbing the first section up Sugarloaf.

The gloves are off now. So is the headband. Less than a mile later we ditch the trail for Forest Road 105A, which is a fairly smooth dirt road with a gradual incline (3-6% grade). As we get going, I shed the jacket – the sun is starting to come through so my tee with arm sleeves is plenty warm on the uphill. I am feeling strong and able to run quite a bit up Sugarloaf. I maintain a 12:30-13:00 pace up the lighter incline portions. I enjoy the lush valley views of Busk Creek in the Hagerman Pass Drainage. Feeding off the views overlooking Turquoise Lake, with the early sun reflected in the water, I pass dozens of people before reaching the top of the climb at around 11,000’ (roughly Mile 17.5). A guy passes me close to the top and loses a plastic baggie. Thinking he might need that later (and because I despise trash in nature), I catch him and return it. He thanks me and puts his headphones back in. Nailed the first major climb and did my “only footprints” environmental duty!

Turquoise Lake from above (on Sugarloaf)

The 3.5-mile descent down Powerline is fairly steep for much of the way, so I am careful not to destroy my quads or overstretch my hamstrings. My right hamstring did feel a little bit tight once or twice, so I monitored that situation closely. I maintain about an 11:00 pace down the 1500’ drop before hitting highway 300. As we make the turn onto the road, some spectators enthusiastically exclaim “hottest runner - right here!” It’s not me they are talking about, but it makes me chuckle as I pass. The sun starts getting warm, so I welcome the shade along the big curve before Outward Bound and surge under a 10:00 pace and cruise into the second aid station (23.5 miles).

OUTWARD BOUND OUTBOUND – 8:57 am – 23.5 miles, 4:56:54

After filling my bottles and grabbing a quick snack, I meet my crew in the field just past the aid station. While packing away some more food, a humorous attempt at spraying me with sunscreen is taking place. It’s more of a narrow stream… guess that’s what I get for buying the cheaper brand.

Getting sunscreen and foot at Outward Bound outbound

My rice “sticky bites” are cherry chocolate and are delicious, but I’m tiring of chocolate and pack some more salty foods. Lesson #4: More salt! I also decline the extra sports drink packet, forgetting that there’s an aid station in between OB and Twin Lakes. My crew informs me that I should probably get moving so that I don’t get into cutoff jeopardy. I eat as I depart through the (rather uneven) pasture, having spent 4 minutes with my crew.

Back on the warm asphalt for about a mile and a half (on Halfmoon Road), I am able to push the pace a little again (under 10:00), before a gentle uphill and returning softer ground. I start to tire a bit as I approach the unofficial Pipeline crewing area, so I pull back a little. I hadn’t anticipated anyone being there but seeing Milo and others from Neal’s crew gives me a little boost as I run straight through. I catch up to Neal shortly after passing through Pipeline. We end up running and hiking together off and on pretty much the rest of the day (which was great). Just after hitting Mile 28, we take a right onto Forest Road 160 and begin a long, gradual 6 or 7-mile climb (1000’). I refill my bottles at Halfpipe but end up wishing I brought the powder from Outward Bound.

Aspen grove near Halfpipe

HALF-PIPE OUTBOUND – 10:05 am – 29.3 miles, 6:05:10

I’ve become a pretty solid uphill runner and hiker over the last couple of years. At least for a former flatlander… With the voices of my crew in the back of my mind, I end up picking up a lot of time on the section from Outward Bound to Twin Lakes. After some good coach-athlete time on 160, we join the CDT/CT again around Mile 32.5. I leave Neal behind when he makes a quick pit stop, and I enjoy the next couple of miles of single track through a delightful aspen grove. Just as we begin the descent before the ponds, one of the guys in the group of three runners ahead of me takes a tumble. Uninjured – other than his pride, he says – we continue on. I let several people pass me on the downhill, again keeping an eye on the hamstring. I take it easy going down the steeper (10-12% grade) section as we drop 1400’ over 2.5 miles into Twin Lakes. Neal catches me on the final descent, and we both avoid the embarrassing tumble into town and aid station #3 (37.9 miles).

 

Enjoying the aspens and mountain views as we approach Twin Lakes

TWIN LAKES – 12:10 pm – 37.9 miles, 8:10:16

Emotion hits me when I see Courtney as I enter the aid station (where I do the food and fill drill). Before the final descent into the village, there was a guy with two small children who were SO excited to see their mom go by. It made me think about all the love and support that family and friends are giving us runners to help achieve our goal. I feel comfortable saying that for almost all runners, it would not be possible to get there without that love and support.

 

Twin Lakes outbound (refueling and refilling)

We try again with the sunscreen, with similar results. I pick up my jacket and my poles for the long climb; I plan to use those the rest of the way (and boy would I…). I spend 8-9 minutes in Twin Lakes, probably a little bit too long. I munch on some potato chips as I walk through town and Courtney meets me on the other side to send me off. I must have really been focused on the chips because somewhere near the Highway 82 crossing I missed her cousins Tim and Garrett, who came to check out the fun. I didn’t expect to get emotional so soon; it was a little more than a flash feeling, but I re-focus on the mountain ahead.

Leaving Twin Lakes and headed for the Hope Pass

It's a flat 2 miles between Twin Lakes and the start of the climb up to Hope Pass. About a half mile before the climb, there’s a double crossing of Lake Creek. The water is cold and refreshing, about calf-deep at the main crossing – it feels good. Our soaked shoes squish for the next half mile. I squeeze by a couple of people as we hit the forest and hop on Willis Gulch Trail. Our shoes are starting to dry already, thanks to the dry Colorado air, as we start up the North side of Hope Pass. It’s midday (12:45 am) as we start the climb at 9200’ and I have lots of energy 40 miles in. I feel strong as I pass other runners and feel very good about my 25:00 pace on the 15-20% grade. I catch Neal again just past the split for Little Willis (Mile 41). A few grunts are exchanged as we push each other up the mountain. We step aside a couple times for the leaders (Adrian Macdonald, Matt Flaherty, Anton Krupicka, Ian Sharman), who are bouncing back down already, 20 miles ahead of us. The trail “eases up” to a 10-15% grade before we hit the climb halfway point, but it certainly doesn’t feel much easier!

Waiting my turn to cross Lake Creek

Llama sighting! Neal leads the way into the Hopeless Aid Station (about Mile 43.5), where the pack llamas who hauled up the aid station goodies lounge in the meadow. It’s a relatively quick stop, and we eye the pass now in view. The final push takes us another 500’ the last half mile of the climb. A few of us play leapfrog on the switchbacks. Neal catches up to me near the top. Funny, I hadn’t even realized it was him who urged me on from the side of the trail as I passed. Must be the altitude!

 

Llama selfie at Hopeless / looking back north from the top of Hope Pass

HOPELESS OUTBOUND – 2:43 pm – 43.5 miles, 10:42:57

Breathless. It always leaves me breathless. This is technically the sixth time I’ve been atop Hope Pass, and it never disappoints. It leaves you breathless because it’s at an altitude of 12,500’. It leaves you breathless because you climb 3200’ in 4 miles to get there. It leaves you breathless because it’s undeniably stunning. It took me just under 2 hours to reach the top with a few minutes of refilling at Hopeless. I stop for a minute at the top to catch my breath and take in the view. I take the first step down…

Neal starts the descent from Hope Pass

…ouch! That’s odd. I was powering up the mountain and now my right foot hurts every time I step. I give it a second and try again. Maybe it’s just a foot cramp from stopping at the top. I hobble down, being cautious. We cross the boulder field about 1.25 miles into the descent, and I’m thinking now that it’s probably not a cramp? I rack my brain to try and figure it out as we hit the aspens and approach the steepest section (20-25% grade). We drop nearly 2500’ in 2.5 miles before we hit a flatter section at the sheep trail just before Mile 46.5. Clouds are starting to roll into the area. I have an idea that might help.

Having poor posture for many years now, I started seeing a chiropractor to correct my spine back in March. Due to a leg length difference, he highly recommended a heel lift in my right shoe, to which I very hesitantly agreed. I slowly worked my way up from 3mm to 9mm in my running shoes, so I was packing the 9mm. So I figure, if I take the heel lift out… maybe it’s just hurting to step on the heel lift? I stop to take off my shoe somewhere around Mile 48 and notice that the heel lift is a little more forward in the shoe than it should be. I toss the lift in my pack and get moving again. It seems to help a little bit. I hobble into the turnaround point at Winfield (Mile 50) around 4:45 pm.

Winfield aid station (photo from 2019)

WINFIELD – 4:45 pm – 50 miles, 12:45:31

I sit in a chair next to Neal and take a little bit of an extended break, rubbing my foot. Neal takes off, and I get up a minute later and use the port-a-potty. Might have been the ramen and mashed potatoes at Hopeless. Overall, I spend about 15 minutes at Winfield before deciding to continue. Looking back, I should have probably asked someone to take a look at it there or at least have done some more massaging. It’s a slow struggle as I start the climb back up. The clouds are back after a brief respite while I was in Winfield, and I hear some thunder. I’m kind of glad not to be up higher near Hope Pass right now. The dark clouds make the dramatic views even more dramatic. It starts to hail. I put my jacket on. A couple of minutes later, the sun is back, and I spot a rainbow. Before even reaching the main part of the climb at the sheep trail (Mile 54), I am in a lot of pain. I consider turning around and heading back to Winfield, but instead I take my jacket back off and stubbornly forge on.

Rainbow!

There’s still an outside chance I can make the 10pm cutoff back at Twin Lakes, I think to myself. I managed to average about a 17:30 pace limping through the lower aspens. If I can make the next 8 miles in less than 4 hours, I have a shot. The 2.5 miles back up the South side has to be the hardest part of the course. Going down that 20-25% grade wasn’t easy, and it’s 20-25 times harder going back up. A small group of us try to keep each other encouraged as we continue what seems like a never-ending slog. By the time we reach the boulder field at Mile 55, I know my chances are pretty much out the window. It really settles in as we get close to tree line. The last mile and a half up to the pass are a mix of stubborn determination, painful groans, and unabashed tears. I muster up some hope for the others around me, but I know I won’t make it. Even if I somehow make the cutoff, there’s no way I can continue past Twin Lakes with this foot pain. The time it takes to complete last few switchbacks up feels like eternity.

It’s nearly 6pm as I hit 12,500’ again at Hope Pass. The sun is starting to set, which is as beautiful as ever. But that also means it’s about to get chilly, so I only stop briefly to put my jacket back on and get my headlamp out (and take a photo). If I wasn’t injured, I would still have a chance even at this point. I let out a deep sigh and hobble down to Hopeless, which is kind of how I feel.

The sun begins to set on Hope Pass

HOPELESS INBOUND – 5:50 pm – 56.5 miles, 15:50:51

I am a bit dejected as I arrive at the aid station. One of the volunteers graciously brings me some broth and mashed potatoes. I request medical attention for my foot as well. I go sit by the fire to keep warm because it is now dark and, not moving, I am getting pretty cold. Perhaps they thought I left, but I sit there for a few minutes before realizing the EMTs are just standing around chatting, and I call to them myself. All they can really do is wrap my foot and hope it helps. It feels as if I stay there for an hour. Neal has decided to throw in the towel as well and offers to wait for me while they work on my foot. My watch runs out of battery before we leave the aid station, so I don’t have a record the rest of the way.

Wrapping my foot may have made it feel worse. We don’t make it very far before it is excruciating pain again. A passing runner sees me moving gingerly and asks if there is anything she can do to help. I ask if she is trying to make the cutoff (yes, she is) but still she stops for a minute or two to share some Tylenol. The way people help each other out the trail can be really amazing and touching. I am so grateful for her kindness. After a few minutes the pain is more tolerable, and I can move at a better pace, though still quite slow.

A lot went through my head as Neal guided me through the darkness on our way down the mountain. I can’t imagine having to do that alone and am so thankful that he kept me company. One of the positives, I suppose, is that I had a lot of time to process my first DNF. There was anger; there was severe disappointment; there was acceptance. At least moderate acceptance.

The foot starts hurting more again probably around Mile 60, and I start to get impatient. We still have 2+ miles to go and all I want to do at this point is lay down and cry. Suddenly I feel a sharp pull around the plantar fascia area on my next step. After that, I only feel it once again, thankfully, so I don’t think I ruptured the fascia or anything. The last 2 miles are full of anguish, and I am completely exhausted, having used my poles essentially as crutches for several hours now.

We finally clear the forest and cross the creek – which is a great, albeit brief, ice bath for my foot. Ben, who was set to pace me from Twin Lakes to May Queen, and Milo meet Neal and I about a mile out and walk it in with us. Ben keeps me company for most of that last mile and hands me off to Courtney when we get close to town. I appreciate Ben’s thoughtfulness to let me and Courtney have a moment together before walking in the last few hundred meters. My dad meets us at the cutoff point (Vicki was resting up before her pacing assignment), where I officially surrender my wristband. My race is over.

TWIN LAKES INBOUND – about 11:00 pm? – 62.5 miles, missed the 18:00:00 cutoff

Putting on my puffy jacket to keep warm, Courtney helps me hobble “across town” (which isn’t really that far in Twin Lakes) to the medical tent to get my foot evaluated. The EMT feels around my foot and determines that nothing feels out of place or structurally amiss. The speculation is that the peroneal tendon is (quite) strained. The medical team keeps me warm and comfortable in the tent while my dad retrieves the car. At least I’ll get to sleep in a bed tonight…!

Courtney walks slowly with me over to the car to head back to the house in Leadville. I feel an enormous amount of gratitude for her; for her encouragement and enthusiasm in the time leading up to the race, for the sacrifices she has made for me to be crazy and chase this goal, for all of her love and support, and the tenderness she showed in this moment. I know it’s not easy to crew for these races, especially when it’s someone you love out there. It’s hard to stay focused while being anxious, excited, fearful, joyful… it’s exhausting emotionally and physically. I will always be thankful to have her there (or wherever!) with me.

Up Next: Leadville 2021 - Reflections