“I’m not having any fun out here” I cried tearfully with my
head hung low and covered up with a towel. As Julie and my crew stood over me,
I was emotionally spent from racing toward the front of the Leadville pack for
the past 10 hours. “I’ve been alone on the trail all day. I haven’t looked
around at the scenery. I’m working my ass off out here and it all hurts. I’m
miserable,” I whimpered through my tears.
“We get it Tim. You’re doing amazing. This is the first time
you have raced a 100-miler at this pace. It’s a different game, but the good
news is that now you have pacers to cheer you up and get you back home,” Julie
consoled me with a hand on my shoulder.
This was Winfield. The dusty ghost town nestled in a valley
surrounded by mountain peaks that also marked the ½ way point of the iconic
Leadville 100 Trail Run. I had ran up and over the 12,600 foot summit of Hope
Pass and I would have to do it all over again if I wanted to see the finish
line.
----------------------
----------------------
2019 has been a year of redemption for me. I battled a
hamstring and hip injury all of 2018. In 2016 at Leadville, I failed to reach
my 25-hour ‘big-buckle’ goal by 33 minutes.
 |
| Pre-Race Brief with the Crew |
Reflecting back on those words as I approached Winfield 10
hours into the race, I felt the reality of what it was actually going to take. The
pain that my body would experience by the extra effort was a lot. I hit the
half-way point, sat in a chair and began to cry.
 |
| Prior to Race Start |
We hit the dirt road heading towards the lake. The full moon
illuminated the forest around us as headlamps bounced up and down like bobbers
in a pond. We blasted down the road at a fast 8 minute/mile pace.
“We are going out too hard.” I commented to Kaitlyn noticing
the vapor rising from my breath into the headlamp glow in front of me.
“Yep,” she replied “we will slow it down once we get to the
single track.”
“We better,” I replied “or its going to be a sufferfest.
After a short but steep climb up the scree field they call “mini-powerlines”,
we found our way to the single-track that would take us another 7 miles around Turquoise
lake.
Kaitlyn and I backed off a little on the pace a bit to stay
on the lookout for roots and rock that seemed to jump up out of the trail on
all sides of us. Looking back across the lake you could see a stream of
headlamps forming an illuminated line of traffic. I was happy to be out in
front of them this year – running. The moon was glowing off the water to our
left in a glorious shimmer that left us breathless.
With about 4 miles to go into Maqueen (the first aid station
at mile 12.5) I somehow found myself all alone on the trail. Kaitlyn had pulled
off to fix her headlamp. The runners in front of me were no longer visible and
the runners behind me were at least 50 yards back. I took in the solitude and
let my breath guide the way.
Running through Mayqueen, I was right on goal time at 2
hours. I grabbed some more fluids and kept moving towards the Sugarloaf climb.
The sun was starting to illuminate the sky. Once I climbed up the short 2-mile Colorado
Trail section and onto the dirt road, I was able to shut off my headlamp. “Now
it’s time to get to work” I told myself and started grinding up Sugarloaf in a
quick-stepping jog.
Before I knew it, I was hammering down the other side of the
mountain on the steep Powerlines side. You could see the valley and mountains
in the distance with the morning fog quickly burning off. I tried to take it
somewhat easy to avoid blowing out my quads but they were yelling at me anyway.
The Altra Professional Joshua Stevens was directly in front of me for a while
and I let him drive the line down. I figured it would be one of the few times
anywhere near a pro in a race!
 |
| Exiting the Powerlines Descent |
We spilled out onto the asphalt road leading to Outward
Bound and I could tell just how worked my legs were from the past 20 miles of
effort. I found myself mentally focusing on landmarks along the road to keep
from walking on the way to the aid station. Most of the time it worked,
although I was power hiking the steeper road sections on the way there. I could
see the aid station in the distance and just told myself not to walk.
About four hours into the race I hit Outward Bound and saw
Julie and Hillary there. We refilled my nutrition. My quads were pretty worked
from coming down Powerline and I was tired, but still moving well. Julie and
Hillary refilled my nutrition, gave me some words of encouragement and sent me
on my way out into the wide open field leading to Treeline.
I was by myself the majority of the next 16 miles on the way
to Twin Lakes. I turned on some tunes to help me zone out a bit. Just like in
training, I ran the majority of what I could and minimized any walking through
this section. I was really starting to fatigue.
Passing mile 30, The little devil on my shoulder whispered
in my ear, “you can’t run 70 more miles. It’s just too hard. You burned all
your matches.” Feeling a little deflated, I began to talk to myself out loud,
“you’re doing great Tim. This is your day” over and over. If others would have
been around me, they would have thought I was a little crazy, but I said it
over and over and kept raising my voice. “YOU'RE DOING GREAT TIM. THIS IS YOUR
DAY!”
Running through the vegetated forest, this is one of the
prettiest sections of trail in the race. Despite the slight uphill most of the section,
it is mostly runnable and there are numerous streams to cross and lush landscape.
 |
| The Colorado Trail section leading to Twin Lakes |
Eventually, I popped out at Twin Lakes. I was so excited to
see the crowd of people there and hear the cheers. I saw a ton of people there
I knew, and they were all cheering me on. Friends guided me to my crew that was
set up at the Berkeley Park tent where I sat down for a few. Taking stock of
things, I was pretty spent, but I forced down a full PB&J sandwich and
drank a coke. It was wonderful to see everyone there. Grabbing my poles, I
said, “See you in 12 miles” and headed out towards Hope Pass.
 |
| Entering Twin La |
I was a little worried that this year’s course was 2 miles
longer than when I did it in 2016 and I kept checking my watch trying to do the
math on where I was at goal wise, but I couldn’t process much of anything. I
decided just to focus on getting to Winfield.
The river crossings and valley floor out of Twin Lakes were
my favorite sections of the course. It was absolutely beautiful and the
mountains jutted out of the valley like monoliths. “God’s Country” by Blake
Shelton came on my playlist and for a minute I thought I was in Heaven.
 |
| The Valley Floor |
The euphoria was short-lived however and I found myself deep
in the pain cave on Hope Pass. My only goal was to keep moving. Leaving 9,100
feet to do a 3,500 foot climb in 4 miles is no joke. About all you can do is
put your head down and go. Still alone on the trail, I just kept moving up the
mountain.
By the time I got near the top at Hopeless Aid Station (Mile
45) I must have looked awful as the medical director came flying over to me
asking if I needed salt. I assured him I’d be fine, but I took some salt and drank
some coke to make him happy.
Cruising over the summit, I didn’t even stop for a photo. I
kept moving towards the valley floor. The lead runner had just passed me on his
way back and I wanted to keep going. The backside of Hope Pass stretches on for
a while and the trick is to run when you can and power hike the rest. There is
almost another 1,000 feet of climbing after the steep descent before you reach
the turnaround. I could smell Winfield in the valley below and wanted to get
there.
Finally, I rounded the corner, crossed the ½ way mat and immediately
had my first meltdown in the race. I was grateful for the empathy my crew
showed me as they allowed me to cry a bit and let it out. After I was done
feeling sorry for myself, my crew got me out of the chair and Oliver began his
hard job of pacing me back towards home.
 |
| Trying to regroup at Winfield |
 |
| Oliver walking me out of Winfield |
Heading back out to tackle Hope wasn’t on my pleasure list
of things to do at that moment, and Oliver didn’t mess around. He was already forcing
gels and nutrition down me on regular intervals. I argued relentlessly that I
didn’t want any of it, but it didn’t matter. He made me eat anyway.
We started the climb up the back side of Hope Pass and I
wanted to vomit. I don’t ever remember this climb being so hard. Covering 2,500
vertical feet in just over 2-miles, the back side of Hope is a soul crusher. Oliver
would encourage me to take in a view every now and then but I was cursing under
my breath, and just kept moving the best I could. Even though the views on Hope
rival the most scenic landscape you can imagine, I had no interest in anything
but summiting.
 |
| Suffering up the impossibly steep climb up Hope. |
Heading up the pass, I was beginning to see some of my other
friends coming towards me just making their way down the mountain towards
Winfield. I wished them well and smiled the best I could.
Finally making it to the summit, we paused for a moment to
take things in. It was 4:20 in the afternoon and I made a joke about getting
high. The lady manning the aid station said, “we can take care of that if you
want!” I just laughed and told her that I wanted to finish the race and not
fall asleep.
 |
| 4:20 on the Summit of Hope |
Oliver and I got some potatoes and ramen at Hopeless and
began the quad crushing descent to Twin Lakes. We ran at a good clip and made
some good time heading down. I actually felt pretty good through this section
and tried my best to keep taking in nutrition.
 |
| Oliver and Laura as I ran back into Twin Lakes |
Before we knew it, we were back in Twin Lakes. With the same
electric energy in town, I made a full clothing change in Twin including
changing out of my wet shoes and socks. In the valley floor there were over 8
water crossings that we had to go through, several of which were up to my quads.
The crew in Twin Lakes was in good spirits. We were making great time, but for
some reason, my brain still couldn’t do any math and I thought we were cutting
it close to make the 25 hour goal.
 |
| Julie helping me change at Twin Lakes |
Oliver and I left Twin Lakes and began the climb up to the
Colorado Trail. I was beyond fatigued on the climb and started dry heaving
every time I had a sip of my liquid nutrition. By the time we made it to the
top of the trail, I remember leaning against a tree and swearing to Oliver
telling him I didn’t think I could make it. I was spent. He gave me a bit of
tough love and told me he understood, but that we would get this done.
 |
| Just trying to hold it together out of Twin Lakes |
The next several miles for me were the toughest of the race.
I was unable to throw up, but I was dry heaving frequently and wanted nothing
more than to puke. Everything hurt and my energy was in the toilet. Oliver
poured out my tailwind nutrition and gave me a bottle of water with a GU electrolyte
tablet in it. The fizzy drink seemed to bounce me back and we started clocking
off 10-11 minute miles on the way to Halfmoon. Feeling a little more energized,
we moved well to Outward Bound just as it was starting to get dark. We hiked
when we had to and ran the rest.
Moving across the dark field on the way to Outward Bound, it
seemed like the aid station was 100 miles away. Seeing the bright lights and
hearing the cheers of people across the field, yet never seeming to get closer plays
tricks on you. With relentless forward motion, we finally found ourselves under the timing banner and looking for our
crew.
Sitting down in a chair Oliver’s pacing job was done and he
was passing me on to Hillary. I wouldn’t be surprised if he also breathed a sigh
of relief since he didn’t have to deal with me acting like a 10 year old
anymore.
I was sick of any sugar at this point and was having a
difficult time with any uphill running. I was still fatigued and worried about
making my goal time of sub 25 hours. I just felt like I was slowing down big
time despite being back in Outward Bound just after 9PM.
It wasn’t all that cold yet at Outward Bound. I can’t
remember what extra clothing I took at that aid station, but it wasn’t much. I
tried to get some potatoes down and I drank some coffee before heading out into
the dark again.
Standing up out of my chair I felt
like fire was lit inside every muscle fiber of my legs. Things were beginning
to scream at me to quit. As the train started moving down the dark road towards
the infamous ‘Power Lines’ climb, Hillary coached me through each move.
I have gotten a little better over the
years at taking orders from my pacers and just doing whatever they tell me to
do. Hillary was doing a great job of making things manageable. She would give
me a heads up and tell me we were going to run to the next tree, and we would.
I would run until I couldn’t run and then we would hike. I remember dropping a
lot of swear words during this section as I was frustrated that my body was not
moving like I wanted it to.
We made it to the relentless Powerlines climb. It was dark at this point and our headlamps lit the path
directly in front of us while the buzz of overhead powerlines filled the night
air. Hillary told me to look back at one point and you could see the entire
valley and town of Leadville lit up in the distance. I only had 20 miles left
to get this thing done.
Since I was dry-heaving every time I
had sugar, Hillary was giving me various foods to get me to eat. Eventually,
she ripped off small corners of a Bobo’s Oat Bar (at least that’s what I think
it was). I’d put the dry cookie in my mouth and let it dissolve.
While the climb rises over 2500 feet
in 4 miles, we took things step by step. I felt like Hillary and I were in sync
and she offered me the perfect amount of empathy and encouragement mixed with
tough love to keep me moving. I’d run for ¼ mile and then walk. “Great effort
Tim” she’d say.
Nearing the top of the mountain, the ram’s
horn of the rogue Space Camp Aid Station bellowed in the silence. Things up
there were not as crazy as I have seen in year’s past, but the party animals
were raging, nevertheless.
“Do you need anything?” one girl
asked.
“Do you have CBD cream?,” I asked, “My
quads are killing me.”
Before I knew it, I was sitting in a
chair by the fire at Space Camp, both short legs pulled way up and Hillary
rubbing one quad with CBD cream and another girl rubbing my other quad down.
“Have I died and gone to heaven?” I
wondered.
The pleasantries only lasted a couple
of minutes before some drunk guy came over and told me to get moving. He was probably jealous his girlfriend was rubbing me down.
We were back out on the trail. The
road began to descend quickly, and we ran all we could. Hillary was encouraging
me and pushing me to do all I could to go quick.
The dark and rocky Colorado Trail
section seemed to take forever. Landmine after landmine sending stabbing pain
into my quads. “One step at a time,” I’d tell myself.
We eventually popped out of the dark
and headed down towards Mayqueen. My brain was finally starting to work and I
did the math on what it would take to finish in less than 25 hours.
“Oh my God Hillary! I’m going to do
this! I have 4.5 hours to make it to Leadville from Mayqueen!!”
“I know Tim, we’ve all been telling
you all day how good your doing, but you didn’t believe us.” She said in a ‘yeah
duh!’ kind-of way.
We jogged into Mayqueen and Laura was
waiting to take over pacing duties. It was 12:30AM. Typically, 3-3.5 hours is
about what it takes to make it to Leadville from Mayqueen and that requires
quite a bit of jogging and fast hike.
“Just get me into Leadville before
5AM,” I said
“Don’t you worry,” Laura replied in
her bouncy kind of way.
 |
| Leaving Mayqueen |
A cup of coffee and a warmer jacket
later, we were on our way to Leadville. Laura and I jogged where we could, and
she pushed the moving pace ahead of me to make sure we were not going to be
against the wire. We settled into a 15-16 minute/mile moving pace. Laura wanted
me to run at points, but I was not interested in any more pain. All I had to do
to meet my goal was to keep moving at this pace and we would get it done. I
told her that power hiking was my reward for pushing so hard early on.
Laura and I kept moving steady. The
moon rose and lit up the lake to our right. Way out in the distance on the
hillside, we could see the tiny headlamps bounce like stars up as runners made
their way down Sugarloaf.
We caught up to my buddy Jordan and
his brother Justin and chatted the night away up the Boulevard. They were
moving at a similar pace and were both from Colorado Springs as well. It was
great to have some conversation!
Rounding the corner at the top of the dusty
Boulevard, it was just before 4AM. I almost started crying as I saw the Leadville
High School flag blowing in in the wind. We had one mile left to go.
“We are doing this!!!” I screamed in
the night.
Cresting the top of the hill on 6th,
Julie, Oliver, Raji, and Hillary were waiting for me. They joined me in hiking the
last ¼ mile as we made it towards the finish. About 200 feet before the finish,
I found one last push to try and run across the line. I got my legs to turn
over and started a comically slow jog towards the finish line banner with my
entire team cheering me on.
I had the finish line all to myself at
4:06 in the morning. I crossed the line with tears streaming down my face. I
bowed and gave thanks to the Lord for carrying me through and hugged Merilee as
she hung a medal around my neck.
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| Merilee Hanging the Medal on my Neck |
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| Julie and I at the Finish. |
 |
| My amazing team |
I had done it. Leadville finish #2.
24:06. Big Buckle and close to a 90 minute 100-Mile PR.
I feel incredibly blessed to have had
such an amazing team this year to help me get this done. It has been a difficult
year for me personally and professionally, but to have this one moment to
celebrate success has shown me a ton. Through adversity comes some of the most
amazing moments that define our lives. I will never shy away from what is
difficult in life. Push through, lean on your friends and have faith that it is
the journey that ultimately leads to freedom.
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