100 Miles Across the Sky

The Starting Line
I was laying in bed with my eyes wide open when the alarm went off at 2:50AM. For the past six hours, I had been mentally running through every segment of the run between a few short sleep breaks. It was going to be a long day and I was ready to finally race. I had a pit in my stomach knowing the event was finally here.

I ate a Clif Bar and went downstairs to heat up some water for coffee. My crew and pacers were still sleeping and it looked like a college slumber party downstairs as I stepped over bags and sheets making my way to the kitchen.

Sipping on my coffee I went back upstairs and put on the rest of my clothes. This included my standard run gear, arm warmers, wind shell, gloves, beanie and headlamp. The rest of my crew would be waking up shortly, so I sat on the bed for a few moments, closed my eyes and did some deep breathing. Julie came over to me and put her arm around me and laid her head on my shoulder. “You will do great baby.” She whispered in my ear, “you’ve got this.”

Getting ready for the big day

I did my best to keep from tearing up and made my way downstairs. The crew was waking up and getting ready to brave the cold 40 degree starting line.

I’ve always hated being the center of attention, and today was no different. As much of an extrovert as I appear to be, most days I would prefer to crawl inside myself and be alone with my thoughts. To have such love and attention from my crew was pretty special, but it stressed me out knowing that I would be potentially letting them all down if the day didn’t go according to plan. Both Brett and Seth had agreed to pace in past years and their runners never made it.

Julie and I the morning before the race

We left the house into the dark of early morning. You could see our breath rise as we walked the three blocks to the starting line. It was 3:45AM and people were filling the starting corral to take their place in line for the shotgun blast at 4AM.

My crew and pacers at the race start

 Killing time, we took some pictures as a group and made some small talk before I made my way into the mass of 700 people that would be starting the race. I made my way to the middle of the starting area and posted up. It was surreal knowing that statistically less than half of the people in the starting corral would be able to finish the race.

My coach and mentor Junko

I saw a few friends around me, and wished them all luck. While it was now 39 degrees outside, most of us were shivering from nervousness and not the cold.

I took a few deep breaths and before I knew it, the one minute countdown had begun. 3-2-1 “BOOM!” The sound of the shotgun went off at 4AM, and the race was on.

Start to Mayqueen (13.1 Miles)
I started to move my feet as the cladder of runners made their way west down sixth avenue. Bobbing headlamps and crowds of people lined the streets cheering on the runners. I smiled a huge grin as I fell into an easy warm up pace around 10:00/mile.

The race start

I held an easy tempo and stayed steady as we made our way towards Turquoise Lake. There were already runners making moves around the crowd burning early matches that they would probably never get back. I was still holding around a 10 minute mile and sticking to plan as runners came blasting by me at 7-8 minute mile pace.

Running in the dark is special to me. Looking down the Boulevard, I could see spots of light ahead of me from hundreds of headlamps. I was feeling good. My body felt like it was falling into a good groove and I would be able to hold this pace for a long time.

We hit the first little climb of the day called ‘mini-powerlines’ and I shifted to a light hike. Moving steady, I made my way up the steep half-mile hill before spilling out onto the long single track trail that skirts Turquoise Lake.

Looking up "Mini Powerlines"

The single track around the lake is stunning at night. Looking at the moonlight water splash on shore as we made our way around the lake is pretty amazing. When the trail curved, you could see the headlamps of other runners along the shoreline about a mile ahead on the trail. It was beautiful.

About 8-miles in, I got caught in a long line of runners. It is impossible to pass on the narrow single track trail, and there were some slower runners ahead that started to back things up. I watched my goal pace for the section slide out of reach as I tried to pass one or two runners at a time.

I got upset on this section, and while I wasn’t trying to go out fast, seeing people walking the flat sections and downhills at this stage in the race was frustrating. I had trained slow easy miles in the mornings, but the 13-minute mile pace those people in front of me were keeping was too slow for comfort.

When the road finally spilled out at Mayqueen, I had lost over 12 minutes on my anticipated goal pace. I refilled my water as quickly as possible, and got back out onto the trail.

Aid station one complaining to Junko about all the slow people.

Mayqueen to Fish Hatchery/Outward Bound (11 Miles)
The next section over Powerline/Sugarloaf offered more room to move. I was able to hold a good pace through the short Colorado Trail section. The sun was starting to come out, and the forest was starting to light up with color. The sounds of runners feet were spreading out and my easy breathing made a rhythmic noise between steps. Spilling out onto the dirt road, I ran up the slight uphill road to the Powerlines turn. I passed quite a few people and was trying to gather back a little bit of time that was lost over the first section.

I power hiked the Powerline climb and made conversation with a few other runners along the way. It was nice to pass the time a bit as we made our way up to the top. I remembered running this section two other times over the summer and had several landmarks that gave me a clue on where I was at.

What felt like only a short time later, I crested the top of the climb and began to run downhill. Once again, many runners were gassing themselves on the downhill. I could hear them coming like a freight train, thrashing their quads as they ran hard downhill. I stayed light and quick on my feet as I descended easy at 10 min/mile pace. There was still a long way to go and I needed those quads!

Looking towards my mountain climb later in the day

We all spilled out onto the road and I had about 2 miles to the aid station at Hatchery where I would see Julie and my team. I was still a bit frustrated about the time I lost at Mayqueen and I was anxious to get to my crew and let them know why I was so late.

The small asphalt section leading to Hatchery

I power hiked a few sections of the steeper road and ran the rest. The aid station was visible now, and I made my way steadily towards the shimmering cars in the distance.

Crew waiting at Hatchery

I finally arrived at the station, and fully vented to Julie about the first section when Kristina shouted at me, “No one cares Tim, suck it up man, get over it, think about the next section and stop worrying about the past”.

Tough love and right on point, Kris told me what I needed to hear, and it pulled me out of my funk. The crew gave me some fresh water and sent me on my way.

It was time to get to work.

Hatchery to Twin Lakes (16 Miles)
The next aid station was 6.5 miles away, and I began to focus on getting there quickly and efficiently. It really helps with longer races to focus on shorter goals. Even though I wasn’t going to be stopping at Halfmoon, the 6.5 miles was a good distance to focus on. I was happy Kristina busted out some military drill sergeant stuff on me and told me to get my head straight. It was working. I used this time to throw on a podcast and zone out. I ran steady and Halfmoon came and went easily. I could feel the increasing mileage in my legs, but things were holding up well. I only had 5 miles to get to the Mt. Elbert aid station.

The section after Halfmoon is arguably one of the prettiest sections of the course. You are along the Colorado Trail and it is single track amazingness. There are several good climbs along this section that I simply hiked as I needed to. I had a much more manageable goal pace for this section and was not worried about hitting it. I was settled into a zone in which I felt half-drunk and motivated. Not sure exactly what all of that entailed, but before I know it, I hit Mt. Elbert mini-aid and was ready to cruise the 3 mile downhill into Twin Lakes. I was super excited to see Julie after all this time, and I could almost hear the cheers down in Twin Lakes.

I cruised the downhill being careful not to blow out my quads and eventually crested the hill into town.

Twin Lakes is a place bustling with activity and energy. There are hundreds of people along the streets and I came down the hill into town into what felt like a stimulant overload. After three hours in my happy solo place, I was a little overwhelmed by it all. Kristina grabbed my pack, Morgan asked me how I was and directed me towards Julie.

The crew assisting at Twin Lakes

Looking back on this aid station, I feel bad about the way I reacted here. I was so overwhelmed by it all that I was not really myself. I had three people asking me what I wanted, people pointing iPhones in my face videoing me, and what felt like 10 people telling me to eat something. I can remember just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible and start climbing Hope. As I said, I don’t totally enjoy being the center of attention, and this aid station was just too much and I probably acted like a jerk now that I think about it.

Nevertheless, I got sprayed down with some sunscreen, busted out my trekking poles, and headed out of there for the next 11 miles over Hope.

Twin Lakes to Winfield (11 Miles)
I set out of Twin Lakes with a new resolve to survive and move quickly. I was surprised how great I was feeling considering the mileage I had covered so far.

The meadow between Twin Lakes and Hope Pass is beautiful. Green grasses and little streams cruise up to the base of the 12,600 foot pass and appear to have stepped right out of a Bob Ross painting. Happy…little…trees….

The valley leading to Hope Pass

In the valley, we had four significant stream/river crossings. The deepest crossing was about thigh high and had ropes across for us to hold on to as we made our way to the other side. The cold mountain water run-off felt amazing on my tired feet and quads.

Reaching the other side, I began my consistent effort up the 3,500 vertical foot 4-mile climb up Hope. My goal was to hike it without stopping or going into the red. I fell into a rhythm with my poles and started passing people by the dozens. I had climbed hope twice over the summer in training and both times it went well. I’m built for climbing and I was confident in this section.

I had not peed since Powerlines and I decided I should try and pee. Kidney issues are common in ultras, and the last thing you want to do is get dehydrated and start peeing out blood or other toxins. I had been drinking a little better on my way up Hope and I choked down a wafer and rice cake so I went to the side of the trail and gave it a go.

Relief came as I was able to get some pee out and it looked somewhat normal yellow in color.

I pushed on towards the top of Hope and crested the summit around Two in the afternoon. I had been running for 10 hours and still felt okay.

The downhill run out of Hope was a beast. My legs were starting to hurt a bit and the steep grades didn’t feel good. I managed to stay light on my feet and push down the backside. Things loosened up a bit and I was able to make it down to the flatter sections. I had another three miles to Winfield, and I’d be able to see my crew and pick up my first pacer.

I must have started getting a little tired, because I don’t remember much of this this section. I walked the uphills and ran the flats and the downs until I made it to the dirt road leading to Winfield.

It was such a great feeling to hit the halfway point in the race. Julie greeted me and walked me into the turn-around. It was wonderful to see her, and I was happy this aid station was less crowded than Twin Lakes. Mentally I shifted at the half-way point and was a little less stressed out.

Arriving at the 1/2 Way Point

I sat down for a couple of minutes and took in some fluids and food. Seth was ready for action and I was stoked to have some company. I hit Winfield in 11:15, giving me a big cushion for the rest of the race.

Winfield to Twin Lakes (11 Miles)
Seth and I headed out to tackle the back side of Hope. The journey up the backside of Hope is shorter but steeper than the front. You cover 2,700 vertical feet over 2.5 miles and grades exceed 45% in places. The best way to cover it is to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.

Seth was good company. I thought it was funny how chipper all the pacers were compared to the runners. The runners all had their heads down grinding it out and the pacers were greeting every outbound runner with a smile and words of encouragement.

Rock field on Hope Pass

I was sick of most foods and drink at this point and Seth did a good job of forcing nutrition down me regardless. His background in endurance sports was helpful since he knows what it feels like not wanting to eat or drink in late stages of a race. He did a good job of talking when he needed to in order to keep me positive and moving.

Things were really starting to take their toll on me in terms of fatigue and nutrition. While I was still eating and drinking, nothing sounded good. I was tired of moving forward. I remember thinking that it was going to be a tough road back.

Seth and I took Hope a chunk at a time, and even through my fatigue, I was moving pretty well. Seth was just behind me encouraging me to keep it up.

What felt like an eternity later, we summited Hope and stopped at the top to take a few photos. The views from the top of Hope Pass are breathtaking every time.

Seth and I at the top of Hope Pass

We descended down about ½ mile to the Hopeless aid station where Seth grabbed me some ramen and other salty foods. The broth was just what I needed, and I felt like a new person after sucking it down. After 13 hours of sweet foods, savory ramen broth was amazing.

We began to cruise into the valley. I once again tried not to crush myself and just steadily made my way down the mountain. Seth was right behind me telling stories and making me drink every ten minutes or so.

And then I yelled out in pain. “OUCH!!! My ankle! Holy crap that hurts! Something stung me!”

I had been stung in the ankle by a ground bee outside my right foot. It hurt like hell, and I took my sock down to survey the damage.

There was a red welt there, but we did not see a stinger. I had Seth call down to Julie so she could prepare with some antihistamine ointment at Twin Lakes. I was not allergic to bees, but there was no point in taking chances.

One of the more 'mellow' river crossings

We pushed on to the bottom and into the green valley. Seth was stoked to cross the rivers and was taking some killer photos along the way. We eventually made it to Twin Lakes with smiles on our faces.

Seth and I arriving back towards Twin Lakes

I took the time to change in Twin Lakes. I threw on a warmer shirt, fresh socks, shoes, calf sleeves and a base layer for warmth. We knew it would be getting dark in an hour or two and the temperature would be dropping fast. Morgan was ready to go and her smile was impossible to ignore. We rubbed some ointment on my bee sting, but it looked okay.

Quick rest at Twin Lakes

Twin Lakes to Hatchery (16 Miles)
The climb out of Twin Lakes is relentless. You head straight uphill for a few miles before spilling out onto the Colorado Trail section. I put my head down and powered through as Morgan told some great travel stories and kept the mood light. Like Seth, she was making me drink every 10 minutes or so.

We were back on my favorite section of trail. It was beautiful out and twilight was hitting. I was tired but still moving forward. Morgan was pushing pace well and we were able to continue a run at 12-13 minutes/ mile.

I fell into a zone in this section of the run. I knew inside that I would be able to finish the race, and it was exciting to know I would be able to reach my goal. While there was a long way to go, the 50K I had left didn’t seem too daunting.

My mind wandered through all sorts of strange things in this section. I was moving intentionally, but I didn’t want anything to eat. I was tired of my liquid nutrition, wafers and pretty much everything else. Poor Morgan kept trying to get me to eat, but I had lost all interest. I even faked drinking out of my water hose at one point so she wouldn’t bug me about it.

I had become a little kid. I zoned in and out of stories Morgan was telling me about her travels, hearing bits and pieces of her story and laughing like I was right there with her. It was horrible, I know. Had my brain stopped working? I was crawling into survival mode and the beam of my headlamp in the woods was the force guiding me home.

Morgan was great at getting me to run when I didn’t feel like it.

“Let’s run to the next hill Tim. It looks flat here,” she would say, and I would look up the trail at an obvious hill knowing she was lying about the ‘flat’ part but I ran anyway. 

We made it to Halfmoon, and I grubbed down some potatoes and salt. I was convinced it was the most amazing thing I’d ever had to eat in my life. I washed it down with some Ramen broth and chased that down with some coke.

We made our way towards Hatchery, still passing people on the road. We held a great pace until I hit the asphalt road.

Then Leadville punched me.

My shins and ankles hurt worse than any pain I have ever had in my life. I felt like I was running on broken legs. Each step hurt like fire had been lit inside my shins.

We slowed down to a fast hike and got into Hatchery. The last two miles into Hatchery were terrible and I felt like I was unravelling quickly.

We found the crew at Hatchery and I added some extra clothes for warmth. I don’t remember much about the change here other than I tried to eat a lot of warm stuff.

Julie helping me put some warm clothes on at Hatchery

Hatchery to Mayqueen (11 Miles)
Kristina picked me up and we power hiked the road to the Power Line climb. I was looking forward to climbing again as the flat running hurt worse than anything. My shins were toast and my ankles were not working that great.

Turning onto Powerlines, Kris flipped a switch and started to relentlessly drive me up the mountain. In my stupor, I just remember her saying, “Good Tim, Go Tim, Run this part Tim, Power it out Tim.” This continued all the way up the 2,600 foot four-mile dark climb. We passed numerous people, and I was hurting worse than I can ever remember hurting. I was swearing under my breath with every step as Kris told me to suck it up and keep moving.

We crested the top of the climb and hit the ‘secret aid station’ with all the glow in the dark hippies tripping on God knows what and dancing circles around the runners. I don’t know who was tripping out more at that point, the partiers at the top of the hill or me.

We blazed through there and started the downhill run. I couldn’t manage to go quickly due to the pain in my shins, but I did get into a cadence that was manageable. Kris was way up the road and I couldn’t catch up. I was digging as deep as I could but it didn’t matter. I was slowing down.

We hit the rocky Colorado trail section and I went as quickly as I could. Every step was killing me, but I kept moving through the dark. It made no difference to cry or swear, I still had 15 miles left to go.

What felt like an eternity later, we reached Mayqueen. I was totally spent and not in my right mind. I sat in the chair for a second and ate some. Brett was ready to roll so they got me up and I started moving.

Forcing out a smile at Mayqueen

Mayqueen to Finish (13.5 Miles)

“We have time to make up” Brett said. He went on to tell me how much they all believed in my ability to break 25-hours and that I needed to give more in order to do it. I moved as fast as I could, but even in my twisted mind I had already run the math. It would take a 13-minute mile average to make 25 hours. On fresh legs, I ran this section fast at just under 11-minute mile pace. On my shattered legs, 13 minute miles was impossible. My mind was willing to push, but my body was not able to go harder.

Brett pushed and pushed until I eventually yelled out in the dark, “I can’t f#@*ing run any faster Brett! The last 3 hours have been f$#%*ing miserable. I am freaking trying! Stop pushing me. If I could go any faster I would!” Tears were running down my face.

Brett tried a bit more to squeeze more out of me, but like an old lemon, there was no more juice in there. The fact I was running at all was a miracle.

Running on 'broken' legs

There seemed to be a few moments of silence and he compassionately turned to me and said, “Let me get you home bud. It’s okay”.

In the dark night I was crying. Everything hurt. I was beyond anything I ever dreamt I could do. I had nothing left to give but what I was giving.

At about mile 95, my legs just quit being able to run. I would try and couldn’t get them to turn over. Brett and I power hiked the Boulevard up to Leadville. I felt like we were moving so slow, but was relieved to know we were holding a 16-17 minute mile pace up the hill.

We spilled onto the asphalt road and the one-mile-to go mark into town. It was after 5AM and the whole town was quiet. There were no runners in front or behind me. Brett began to cry a little in the emotion of the moment. I tried my best to hold it together as we rounded the corner towards the finish.

I could see the blinking light up the road where the finish was and my crew came into focus. I started bawling in joy. Tears were streaming down my face as I hugged Julie.

We all walked in as a team and I hit the red carpet.

Mission Accomplished

“Tim Barr finished the Leadville 100, with a time of 25:33!!! That’s a respectable time for Leadville!”

I held my arms in the air, crying like a baby, and went over to give Ken Choubler the race founder a hug.

“God that was hard,” I told Ken.

"That was hard!"

“Of course it’s hard, do you think we just give these medals out to anyone?”

It took an army!

I put the medal around my neck, looked back at the quiet dark street behind me and thanked God for the journey.

Link to my Strava File

Done!

Epilogue

As I look back upon the race, my mind keeps coming back to how big of a challenge running 100 miles was. When I first signed up, it seemed unfathomable that I would be able to run that far. Like so many things in life, if you look too far down the road, anxiety of the challenge can build up and cripple you. 

Leadville was no different. 100 miles is a long way. There's no doubt about that. The big secret is to focus on one shorter goal at a time. By breaking the race down into smaller segments, it is easier to wrap your head around. No longer do you have 100 miles to run, you have 13, or five, or 11---anyway you get the picture. 

Also, like many things in life, sometimes we get held back by no fault of our own. We get frustrated that we can't move forward or get ahead. People are blocking our path. You watch others excel and move up the ranks while even though you are more prepared, you fall prey to circumstance. That first section of the race when I was running to Mayqueen, I got extremely frustrated at other people for impeding my progress. I had a choice to make at that point. I could either play the victim and let that ruin the rest of my day or follow Kristina's advice and realize  that it was up to me to focus on my next goal and be successful in that venture. It's a hard lesson to learn, but I realized that it's just like real life. Thank you Kris, for speaking the truth in love.

I also realized that life takes a team. Although we feel sometimes that we're doing everything solo, we all have a support network of friends and family to help get us through the tough times. Leadville was a huge representation of that. Without my crew and my Pacers, I would not have reached the finish line in the time that I did, if at all. I owe this accomplishment to all of them as much as my training and will-power to get through. There were times when I didn't want to eat or drink or do anything at all. I have battled depression my whole life and this was similar to some down times I feel. My friends recognized those low moments and stepped in to help get me back on my feet. Sometimes I didn't want to listen to their advice, but a lot of times others can see your weaknesses before you can. 

More than any other race this race has affected me deeply. It wasn't just running through the extreme pain that I felt at the end of the race and powering through, it was the amazing love of my friends and that move me to tears when I think about this race. 

There are so many life parallels that I could draw between what happened out there. The moment is all you have to deal with. What do we all think about each day as we get up to live the next 24 hours of this life that God has blessed us with? All I can say is that I want to live every single second to the fullest, let my friends pick me up when I am down, and not be too proud to ask for help.

The number one question I'm getting after the race is whether I'll go back and do it again. I don't know the answer to that right now. There were so many amazing things that happened out there that I would be lying to say that it's not a seed in the back of my mind. One thing I do know is that this experience has changed my life forever.

So worth it!