There is a short steep climb at mile 5 of the Leadville 100 that seemed to audibly laugh at me and assert the truth that an extremely difficult 27 hours was ahead of me. My quads were heavier than barbells at the bottom of the ocean. My breathing felt like each breath was moving through a straw. And worst of all, a crack in the strong armor of my mind rapidly grew from a hairline fracture to what would eventually grow to be the Grand Canyon.
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This has been an epic summer in Leadville. Signing up for
the Lead Challenge or ‘Leadman’ series was something that I have thought about
since my first Leadville 100 finish in 2016. Completing the Marathon, the 50-Mile run,
the 105 Mile MTB, the 10K and the 100 Mile run over the course of 10 weeks was
a bit daunting, but something I was excited for. The challenge of balancing
both mountain biking and running ultra-distances would prove to be difficult both in terms of
time and training.
Having made it through the 105 mile mountain bike the weekend before
mini
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| Finish and buckle at the LT100 MTB |
I rested and stayed off my feet the week after the bike and leading into the
run. My left hip was acting up which has been problematic since the Tahoe 100
back in 2018. I did my best to rest and stretch lightly as the hip would throb
a bit as I laid around. The 105-mile bike stressed those hip flexors and my
quads, but I remained super positive that I could still have an amazing day on
the run.
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The day before the 100-Run, I had a peace about it. I had been here before. I was well trained. I knew the course with my eyes closed. Running long distances is just what I do.
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| Check in at the LT100 Run on Friday |
I set my alarm for 2:30 AM on Saturday and did
my best to groggily get dressed and ready to face the brisk morning air at 6th
and Harrison in Historic Downtown Leadville.
Julie drove to the start and walked down the starting corral with me.
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| My partner in crime at the race start |
“You’re going to do great,” she said “Running 100's is what you do!”
We kissed and Julie made her way to the sidelines to join the hundreds of other spectators waiting for the early start.
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| The waiting is the hardest part! |
I lined up near the front of the field. It was cold out, but
not quite as cold as I had expected it to be. I had on arm warmers and my
Cotopaxi pull-over windbreaker and felt comfortable.
BOOM!
The gun went off and 700 headlamps illuminated the night sky
in a bobbing sea of white as we made our way west down 6th. I knew I wanted to push pace a bit heading
out towards Turquoise Lake to avoid the conga line that plagues slower runners
on the single-track trail around the lake. I was running a steady, but somewhat
hard, pace down the dirt road before making my way down the asphalt toward the
Lake. I was a bit winded but knew I’d back it off once I got to the lake.
We turned right up the steep hill at mile five that they
call ‘little powerlines’, a 35-40% grade uphill section that lasts ¼ mile or
so. My quads screamed at me in revolt. I could instantly feel the miles from
the 105-mile bike 6-days prior in my legs. My lungs cried out in pain and I
slowed to a more manageable effort. Unfortunately, the blast of reality shut down my positive mindset like a light switch.
It's too early to feel cooked...
I crested the small hill and headed out onto the single
track around the lake. We all had plenty of room to move and run which was
nice. I backed way off pace at this point and let runners go around me as
needed. The night was still dark and the water to our left glistened as our
headlamps passed by. I turned and looked behind me to see a string of lights
along the trail that travelled for miles. My breath puffed in clouds of vapor
in front of me.
My negative thoughts continued as I was struggling to move
my heavy legs down the trail. My right ankle was super sore for some reason, and
as I stepped on the ground it shot needles of pain through my foot.
How can things be falling apart this early?
My friend Brandon caught up to me and we chatted for a
while. I was happy to have some company for a bit as a few more miles passed
by. His positivity lifted me for a moment until he blasted off like a rocket ahead of me on the trail.
Eventually we made it to Mayqueen at mile 12.5 and I
refilled some bottles. I tried to both get a grip mentally and reason with the pain that was now building
in my right ankle and legs. It only took me a couple of hours to get to Mayqueen, but my body felt like I was already at mile 50 of a race.
I shot Julie a text:
The next section of the race was 11 miles and took us over the
Sugarloaf climb and down the notoriously steep Powelines descent. Fortunately,
my climbing legs were now working okay at slower speeds. The flats and
downhills though were killing me though. The ankle pain was starting to migrate
up my right leg.
I made the climb and suffered through the steep downhill, already wondering where I would drop out of the race and how I would break the news to my crew and family.
Hitting Outward Bound at mile 23.5 I explained the pain to Julie. She told me that we knew that the cumulative load would add up and that the pain should be expected.
Micah told me to ‘pretend it was a long training
day’ as they pushed me out of the aid station on the way to Twin Lakes. My
friend Jared was also there telling me that I was a bad ass and to get out of
my head.
The next 16 miles were spent fading in and out of the pain
cave. I moved like a zombie through the forest, running when I could and hiking
when I couldn’t. Through this section, I just chipped away at the miles, and it
felt slow, but typical in ultrarunning. I chatted with some people to pass the
time and it felt nice to not think a bit. My friend Samantha who was also doing
the Lead Challenge offered some strong words of encouragement to me as she
passed, letting me know that the pain was normal and that the first time she
did the Lead Challenge she struggled the first half too.
There were also some cat and mouse games through this
section. There was a guy that seemed to keep burning matches only to slow way
down as he ran out of steam. It was super funny as I just moved at a steady
clip the whole time. I’d pass him and he would practically sprint back around
me. It sounds bad, but I just toyed with him to keep my mind going.
After what felt like forever, I slowly made my way down the
steep hill towards Twin Lakes. The quad and ankle pain was just getting worse
as I went. Coming around a corner I saw my friends Becki and Jeff who
encouraged me to try and stay positive and just keep moving. I crested a small
hill and Micah was there to guide me down to the crowded town of Twin Lakes.
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| Micah walking me to my crew at Twin Lakes |
Twin Lakes was as crowded as ever. People cheered for me and tried to hug me as I just tried to make my way to Julie and my crew. It was all a huge shock and contrast to how I was feeling inside. After 2016, I made the conscious decision never to be aggravated or mean to people that are trying to help me. Those emotions were replaced with ignoring the compliments and tuning out the noise.
Micah directed me to a chair where I sat in a heap of
emotion. Seth, Lauren, Chris, Hillary, Micah, my run team and others watched as
I sat in the chair, put my head down and just started crying. Tears of
frustration, pain, mental suffering, disappointment, and doubt rolled down my
cheeks.
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| Hammered and done |
“I can’t do this.” I cried. “I hurt like I’m at mile 80. I
can’t fathom going over that mountain twice” I said looking up at the massive
mountain to the South.
While my crew tried to assess what they could do to help me,
I was at a loss on how to direct them. My right leg hurt from bottom to top and
I was super tired. The only good news is that nutrition was spot on so I was
hydrating well and eating.
I don’t know why I got up out of the chair, but I think it
was to just head out of the craziness and crowds of people. I knew that if I
could make it over hope, I could drop at Winfield without anyone telling me no.
I would have 3-4 hours to think about that decision.
So I left as Hillary walked with me for a while offering
words of encouragement. My friend Jared came over and told me to believe in myself and get it done.
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| Jared encouraging me to keep going. |
I worked my way across the valley floor. The water crossings were minimal this year and the creek was only about knee high. Before I knew it, I was at the base of the 3,500 foot climb that would take me over Hope Pass.
Despite my broken state, I fell into a familiar groove and
started climbing up my favorite mountain in Colorado. I know every crook and
cranny of this trail and with some music going in my headphones I embraced my
old friend.
Steps turned into miles as I passed waterfalls, river pools
and meadows. I brought my mind back to what a gift it was being out here. I was
hurting, but I had also decided that my suffering would be over in a few miles.
“Only 8 miles to Winfield” I said out loud. "And then I can finally drop"
I didn’t stop moving and I made it to the Hopeless Aid
station where I got some Ramen and texted Julie to let her know that I would be
done at Winfield.
The responses came back instantly.
I must be honest. At this point in the race, there wasn’t
much anyone could say to me to change my mind. I was just happy that the day
would be done soon. I felt bad for my pacers and crew that were hopeful to have
a chance to pace me and see me finish, but they were also not in the mental and
physical place I was.
“No one has a clue” I thought, ignoring Julie’s texts.
As I crested the summit of Hope feeling bad for myself, my
thoughts quickly turned to panic as the air temperature dropped 20 degrees and
a sleet, rain and snow storm hit us. We were being crushed by rain and hard ice
balls and all the runners struggled to pull out their jackets for cover. I
helped a runner that was quickly going hypothermic and couldn’t unzip his
jacket to get it on. All our fingers were frozen, and we were trying to get
down below tree line as fast as possible.
The rain and sleet continued for the next 40 minutes as we
got down the steep part of the mountain and turned onto the Colorado trail
towards Winfield.
I don’t know if this external stimulus snapped me out of my
mood, but I started to feel better overall. I was moving slow but steady across
the valley. I had some good conversations with other athletes on this section
and before I knew it, the rain had stopped and I had about a mile left to
Winfield.
I started thinking about my friends and family that
supported me all summer.
My wife and son that gave up weekends and time so I could
train. Hillary, my coach and one of my best friends that gave up this weekend
and the last one to crew and pace me at the MTB. Seth and Lauren who flew out
from Mammoth to crew and pace me.
Could I honestly let these people down because I was tired
and hurting? I was WAY ahead of cutoffs.
I made up my mind on the road down to Winfield that I would
keep going after getting some food and resting for a bit. I would not let them
down.
I rolled into Winfield in much better spirts and sat in a
chair for a while as a volunteer refilled my hydration and got me some food. I
shot Julie a text from my Garmin InReach to let her know I would continue on.
“I LOVE YOU!! See you in twin Lakes!” was her reply.
I rested up in Winfield for about 25 minutes and got up to
make my way back to Twin Lakes.
The journey back up Hope was uneventful. I was in a better
frame of mind, although I was moving slower. The storm had passed and the wind
was still. It was a beautiful journey back up the mountain. I was relying a bit
more on my poles to carry my painful gate but I was climbing pretty well.
I crested the summit and stopped for a quick photo of my favorite place on earth. I love the summit of Hope Pass and the views up there are what inspired me to tackle the race itself. Time seems to stand still up there.
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| The Summit of Hope Pass |
Descending towards Twin Lakes, I gingerly hobbled down the
rocks. I stopped briefly at Hopeless Aid Station where some friends were
crewing and ate some more Ramen and drank some Coke.
It took what felt like forever to get back to Twin Lakes. My
right leg was shot, and it was a lot of pain to get down the steeper sections.
I continued moving, however, until I eventually saw Micah standing in the field
outside Twin. He ‘ran’ with me into town and directed me to the same chair I
had shed my tears in 8 hours earlier.
“I’m going to finish this thing” I told everyone as I
was greeted with hugs and smiles.
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| Julie helping me get ready to leave Twin Lakes |
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| Seth and I leaving Twin Lakes |
All we could see was the insane bright illumination of rain in front of our headlamps as we moved forward through the forest. I had a raincoat on to keep my body warm in the wet night air. I was starting to unconsciously take the load off my right hip and lean to the right as I tried to keep the hip pain from getting the best of me. I could tell I was favoring my right trekking pole for balance, but I also knew that that leg was shot from the day.
Stopping at Halfmoon aid, we warmed up in the tent and got some hot food. I changed out of some gear and took my shirt off while the woman working the hot chocolate station looked at me. I apologized for the change, and she creepily smiled at me and said “oh no… please keep changing! I am perfectly happy right now.”
Yikes. LOL.
Seth and I continued. My run pace was slowing considerably as my hips and quads were literally done performing. We power hiked as fast as we could and made the Outward Bound aid station around 11:30 PM. It was hard to believe that in 2019 I had arrived at this aid station about 3.5 hours earlier. Nevertheless, I ate some more Ramen, some mashed potatoes, drank some coffee and we headed back out into the night.
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| Seth, Micah and I at Outward Bound (Mile 78) |
The next section was a blur to me in a lot of ways. I barely remember the asphalt section on the way to the Powerlines climb. While I felt like I was climbing okay, I could tell that I was still favoring that right trekking pole to stay steady. I remember talking about everything with Seth from relationships, to hip hop, vinyl and religion. That’s the thing about your close friends. You can go years without seeing each other, but it’s like you never miss a beat. That’s how it is with Seth. We never struggle to find things to chat about and there is a ton of mutual respect.
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| The Powerlines Climb |
Space Camp is the ‘secret aid station” at the top of
Powerlines. I’m not really sure what the issue was up there this year, but they
really need to up their game because it was pretty lame there besides a few handles
of alcohol on the table. Space Camp people, if you ever read this, please up
your game for next year or don't party so hard earlier in the night.
We gingerly made our way down Sugarloaf and eventually onto
my least favorite section of the return trip on the Colorado Trail. This 2.5
mile section is super rocky and steep in parts. If you are not already
destroyed from the previous 85 miles, this section is here to make sure you are
officially toast.
Somehow after thinking I was lost 5 times (which happens
here every year) we popped out on the road heading to Mayqueen.
Arriving at Mayqueen, Seth and I couldn’t find Julie, Hillary or our crew so I sat in the aid station to get some Ramen and rest. Seth called the crew and they said they got stuck waiting for an emergency vehicle and would be there in a few minutes. I didn’t care about the time, so I ate some food and worked on getting some rest for my sore hips. It was about 3:30 AM.
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| Seth, Hillary, Micah and I at Mayqueen |
Julie, Micah, Lauren and Hillary eventually got there and I
said goodbye to Seth. Hillary and I were setting out for the last 12.5 miles.
Unfortunately, my hips and legs were so cooked, I couldn’t
run or shuffle so I knew we would have to walk it in. In my blasted state, I
couldn’t do math and kept asking Hillary if we’d make the 30-hour cut. It felt
like I was moving at a snails pace. She assured me that we would be just fine
and told me to stop looking at my watch.
Hillary was such a great pacer through this section. I don’t
remember much of the journey other than what felt like 100 people passing me
and me not being able to respond. Hillary just encouraged me and kept me eating
and drinking.
What seemed like an eternity later, we made it around
Turquoise lake. The sun was starting to come out, which was something I’ve
never experienced on the race before. It was beautiful as the mountains around
us lit up in a blaze of sunlight.
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| Sunrise |
Literally limping along, we made it to the Boulevard where
we had about 5K left. My 8:00 mile pace about 27 hours earlier had slowed to
about 19:00/mile.
One step at a time….
At the top of the Boulevard, I started seeing friends and others to cheer us on the last mile. While I didn’t perceive it, my right-side lean had become so pronounced, people started saying things about it. I became super self-conscious as I was unable to straighten my torso without my right hip screaming in pain. I was leaned over my right trekking pole as I made my way towards the finish. People must have thought I was an 80-year-old crippled man or just had a stroke. I was super embarrassed by it, but my close friends and crew in good form didn’t even say a word about it. In fact, those closest to me kept saying, "You're a bad ass Tim and a Leadman!"
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| Hiking it in with Julie, Micah and Hillary |
Julie and Micah joined Hillary and I as we walked the last ½ mile towards the finish.
I started to tear up, but I had a ton of friends come over
and start hugging me about 50 yards before the finish line. I high fived and
hugged Jeff, Becki, Brandon, Kaitlyn and others as I smiled in joy that my day
of suffering was finally over. In a morbid way, I wonder if this is what heaven
is like?
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| Congratulation high fives at the finish |
The announcer, having announced my name just before all the
hugs came back and said something to the effect of “well Tim, are you going to finish
or what?!”
Woops.
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| Guess I'd better finish! |
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| Ken, Cole and Merilee (I love Cole's reaction!!) |
I got it done in 27:50:42! I was a Leadman!
After finishing I sat in a chair and cried for what felt
like an eternity. All the pain, all the emotion, all the suffering and pure
grit. I did what I thought would be impossible.
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| Hugging Micah |
In the end, this was one heck of a summer. I owe this finish to my crew, my friends and my amazing wife. Without their support and encouragement I would NEVER have made it. It was all of you that made me keep going and creating a different story than what I would have lived without you. I'm humbled beyond belief for Julie, Hillary, Micah, Seth, Lauren, Jared, Chris, Samantha, Brian, Jeff, Becki, Kaitlyn, Brandon, Cole, Phil and so many more for speaking life into me when I was dead. If I could give you all your own medal I would. You were my 'why' when I had no more to give. I truly love you all.
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| I am a Leadman! |
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