That Was Heavy

When I signed up for the Leadville Heavy Half last November, it was the first on the list of Colorado races that I knew would kick my butt. Coming up from San Diego to race at altitude several times before, I am no stranger to the humility that comes from lacking the oxygen to perform. Knowing that I was moving to the big kid’s playground of Colorado in January, the 16-mile race at over 10,000 feet sounded like a great way to punish myself as a new Coloradan. The race has over 3800 feet of climbing and takes you to the top of North America’s highest mountain pass at 13,200 feet above sea level.

Running and training between 20-30 miles a week in Golden and Boulder, I have fallen in love with trail running. The challenge and lack of boring asphalt monotony are just second to the absolute beauty the dirt and rocks bring. Cresting a bend to watch the expansive wilderness and lakes unfold in front of you like a huge curtain being opened brings me another step closer to God.

The day had finally arrived. My training partner and good friend Brett and I left on Friday for the Saturday race. Brett’s friend Mike came along with us as he was running the full marathon. As we drove upwards into the Colorado Mountains, some of the views would make you think we were in the Swiss Alps. Large peaks, lush valleys, rambling streams and wildlife that brand Colorado as my favorite state were everywhere you looked.

As we drove past old mines and historic buildings once inhabited by the likes of Doc Holliday, we entered the 10,100-foot City of Leadville. I parked my 2012 Subaru right in front of the 1875 Saloon and we walked across Main Street to pick up our race packets. The modern day cowboys we are, our ration bags were filled with the normal stack of race flyers, a couple of snacks and a paper bib number, which would be my sole identity in a little less than 14 hours.  

A friend of mine from San Diego invited us to dinner. She had moved to Leadville in January and it was cool to see someone from Cali in this remote town. She made the world’s best salad and lasagna, and we polished it off with a huge bowl of chocolate ice cream. Now we were full cowboys ready for a good night’s sleep before the gun battle.

The alarm went off at 5:00 AM and the three of us started to stir. I drank my normal full glass of water first thing and ate a cliff bar before pouring my first cup of coffee. We went through the typical pre-race check and then headed to the hotel breakfast room to grab some breakfast. I had some eggs, toast and some coffee before we made the drive to the start.

The starting line was packed, but not as crowded as you would see at a typical marathon. The runners here were much more eclectic, and the attitude was not as serious as the standard city race event. I saw everything from shirtless bearded men in vibram shoes to old ladies in new balance trail shoes. They looked fitter than I did I’m pretty sure. They started the half marathon and full marathon participants together. One massive wave headed straight for the mountain ahead, which seemed both unfathomably far away and unfathomably high. Looming in the distance like a giant monster awaiting its prey was Mosquito Pass.

Brett and I started together and I kept an almost painfully slow tempo to ease into the race. The altitude was not affecting me as bad as I thought it would, but I could tell every time I pushed it, that the lack of oxygen would be unforgiving if I tried to be a superstar. The paved road out of town was about a 3-4% grade for about a mile before we hit the dirt road that would continue up Mosquito pass. The dirt road reminded me a lot of some of the rises on Magnolia Road outside Boulder. A grinding 4-6% grade had people walking as soon as the race started.

I ran slow and steady the entire way to the first aid station about three miles in. The grade was constant from the start to this aid station so I knew that if I just kept my heart rate down and fell into a groove, I’d be pacing it just fine. And I did. I made it to the first aid station in about 32 minutes and stopped to get some water and wait for my buddy Brett to join back. I was not worried about a time at this race as I just wanted to finish strong and survive. Total climb to aid station 1 was around 1000 feet.

Brett caught back on and we continued. The dirt road became a single-track trail descent for about a mile taking you down into a historic Leadville valley full of old mine shafts and collapsed wood structures. It was just crazy to ponder the vast history of this area. Old ore graced the hillsides and laid out in front of us was an expanse so great you could not help but look up at the looming Mosquito Pass.

After a slight ¼ mile uphill we hit the second aid station at mile 4.4. We were 50 minutes in. We had a 5K standing between us and the summit. I thought to myself that if I could push to the summit in 40 minutes, then I had a good shot at breaking three hours on the course. This was the first time I thought about actually reaching a time goal on this course. We headed out.

The first mile after aid station 2 was a little more of a grind then the first three miles of the course. About the same grade as the beginning, but now we had to hop rocks, run through a few small stream runoffs and watch our footing. I pushed on ahead of Brett and made my way up the trail. I still felt good, and I was passing a ton of people who had decided to walk at this point.

Then I hit the real climb. The pitch of the road kicked up to 10-15% and I was about to cover 2,000 feet over about 2 miles to the summit. The trail was as rocky as a river bottom. Full of loose material, rocky and dirty. You had to watch every step. I walked as fast as I could, powering up the climb at a 17-20 minute/mile pace. I was passing a ton of people as I power walked the slope. Up the climb I saw the leaders cresting the summit. They were killing it up there.

I continued to push on realizing quickly that my 40-minute goal for this stretch was a little ambitious. My pace in sections was 21 minutes/mile. Despite the slowdown, I crested the top in 48 minutes.

I paused for a second to take in the view. The highest pass in North America, you could see for miles in every direction. It was incredible. I spent a minute or so on top of the world before the mountain chill told me it was time to keep moving.

Move I did. I blazed back down the rocky slope just praying that I would not slip on a rock and bail down the mountain. I was pushing a 6:50-7:00 pace down the slope, which was as fast as I could go and still maintain footing. There were a ton of people still making their way up and it was like dodging trees at times as I watched my feet below me. I saw Brett and stopped long enough to encourage him to keep going and apologize for pushing on. He was in the zone himself so we slapped hands and went on.

The whole way down I felt good. Hammering the descent my quads started to burn, but I knew I’d make it. I was able to push up the mile 12 climb with no real issues. Just hitting it slow and steady was the key and I held an 11-12 minute mile pace up the climb.

With 3 miles to go at the last rest stop I asked for the time and I knew if I kept up my pace, I’d break three hours with ease. I hit the final dirt road descent and focused on my turnover and breathing. I caught up to another runner and we were pushing 6:50-7:00 pace down the hill.  

About a mile from the finish I could see downtown Leadville. My hamstrings and quads were screaming out in pain, but I pushed on. For a minute I thought my hammy would explode but I tried to ease pace just enough to finish.

Crossing the finish line, I knew I had just finished the hardest running race in my 37 years. My legs were shaking so bad I almost fell over and a woman held me up. Overcome with emotion I may have let out a few tears. With rest stops I had finished in 2:51:00 which was good enough for 8^th in my age group and 37^th overall. Here is a link to my Strava profile.

I walk-hobbled to the car to grab my camera so I could film Brett finishing. He came in not too far behind me all smiles, tears and elation. I love that kid.

Already thinking that I need to cross the full marathon off my list next year, but we will see. For now, I’ll hobble around and nurse my legs back to health so I can focus on Ironman in September.

[Photos Courtesy of Brett Marraccini]