Kicking Off 2010

With a big year ahead, the first race of the year is in the bag, and it was a good one. The weather in Phoenix was fantastic, staying in the low 50s. I rolled through the PF Chang’s Rock N’ Roll marathon like it was a Sunday jog. Determined to get a Boston qualifying time, I stayed with the 3:10 pace group for 20 miles. At that point the pacer wanted to back it off but a few of us just wanted to hold the pace. Soon just one guy and I remained and I encouraged him with me to the line in 3:09. It was a 20 min PR for him and I had my time in the first race of the year. It was the easiest race I have ever run – no pain, no struggle. Finished open marathon #25.

In February, I head back to Arizona for a fast 50K. Then in March, I am going to central Colorado for a very hilly marathon. Just a week later it is off to Georgia for another marathon. These shorter, faster races will provide a good speed base for the spring and summer.

In April, the first real test awaits. The Desert RATS 50 miler will provide top-notch competition over difficult terrain. I expect hard trail, and a long day at altitude and in the sun will prove valuable for the summer. Scarcely two weeks later is another 50k, and I am toying with this race. Regardless, in mid-May is another marathon in the mountains. I expect to run hard and place well.

Another short two weeks after that is Memorial Day, and I am heading to Wyoming for a double marathon. It is the same course that I won on a few years ago. Now I just have to do it twice. 52.4 miles will be the longest test of the year leading up to the race.

June is going to be free of races due to a new baby joining us, but without having to work, I will be able to run more trail and longer than usual. July dawns with a serious challenge – the Leadville Marathon. It rockets into the clouds and promises to be a slow, difficult grind. Finally, I am off to southern Colorado for a 50K to end my preparation. Again, I hope to run very well here and end the training on a good note.

It all leads up to the Leadville 100 on August 21. After a finish in 2006 and a DNF in 2009, I want nothing more than to rock this one. My goal is sub-21 hours. I was on this pace during the 2009 race and I am itching to get the sweatshirt to prove it. In addition to the race schedule announced, the main component of my training will be trail runs. Between Team CRUD and the Incline Club, there are more than enough runs near here to simulate the race. I have two trips planned to Leadville for reconnaissance: A double crossing (20 miles) of Hope Pass followed by the Colorado Trail, and a darkness traverse of Sugarloaf Mountain. These are the Crux of the race and I need to really know them. I also am lifting about twice a week and focusing on core several times a week. I will be more ready than ever before.

Winter Running Achievements

A season shouldn’t be defined by the final race. A few jaunts in the winter woods have both humbled me and provided confidence for the upcoming year. The final race of the Pikes Peak Road Runners Fall Series was in Palmer Park just after a major snow. What was normally a 7+ mile loop was reduced to about 5 miles due to icy conditions on the rocks. My race started a tad aggressively since I expected to enter trails immediately. Instead, ¾ of a mile later, we were still going uphill on the long park road. By the summit I was gassed, and continued to go backward from there. Rather than pass people, I was the victim as many runners cruised by. I struggled to the finish line barely able to hold on to a top 30 placing. My buddy Steve was under a minute behind me, indicating a very excellent race on his part, and a not-so-good race by me.

A few weeks later we ran the Turkey Trot Predict the Saturday before Thanksgiving. This race had runners predict their time, and leave the starting line when their time posted, thereby having everyone (theoretically) hit the finish at the same time. I put 19:36, having not raced a 5K in years. When my time came, my name was announced and off I went. It was like the Tour de France with people cheering as you rolled out on the course. Almost instantly I caught the people who had left ahead of me and all idea of pace was out the window. I rolled up on Steve who had more than 1:30 in hand, and by. The end was chaos as hundreds of runners approached the finish. I crossed in 19:06, surprised I was able to run the pace with no speed work. I was way off the time! Sarah rolled in just under 3 seconds off for 8th place. Our friend, Susan, took home 2nd and a turkey!

Deciding to test my ultra skills, I went to the infamous Incline in Manitou Springs. Just enter "Manitou Incline" into Yahoo! Images search and see what the hype is about.  This one-mile long trail of railroad ties rockets 2000’ into the clouds at an average gradient of 41%. I started strong and soon started a suffer slog of lactic-acid in my teeth and death in my legs. The maximum incline is 68% requiring the use of all four appendages. It was a nightmare! But I crossed in 25:40, an excellent time and a desire to try it again in better shape and without snow on it! But the real kicker is the 4-mile bomb down Barr Trail. After falling once on the ice and nearly dying, I was glad to be done.

I joined Matt Carpenter’s Incline Club for some trail training. Rather than embarrass myself the first week, Steve took me up the route the week before. The run up Ute Pass trail was gnarly and required a lot of walking. But ultimately you gain the trail to Waldo Canyon and are rewarded with amazing views before looping back. I ran out of fuel and struggled all the way in. This was a really hard run taking 2:44 for 15 miles!

The following weekend I invited Michael Trahan down for the Incline Club. We started with 135 other trail runners up the road and out the trail. Our goal was to pace well and we slowly gained on those ahead of us. We made a game out of catching those ahead of us and staying ahead. The Waldo loop was very icy and it was cloudy. We ran very solid and finished back at the car in 2:16, nearly half an hour faster than the previous week! Only Matt and one other guy finished the route faster than us.

The next weekend I entered the Rock Canyon Half Marathon in Pueblo. It was amazingly cold leading up to the race (below O), but I still stripped down to shorts for the gun. The pace went out pretty fast, dropping from 6:30, to 6:20 over the first three miles. I thought this was too fast given my sub-1:30 goal for the day, but I just tucked in the pack. It blew up at three miles so I took over chipping at the field ahead of me. I was in about 23rd place and kept running in the 6:30s. People just kept coming back. I ran with experience and was never passed in the whole race. At mile 10 I came up on a guy with his arms flailing and legs twisted. As soon as I went by, he surged to stay with me. “Fine,” I thought to myself. “Burn yourself out.” But 30 seconds later he was still there. I figured if I wasn’t going to shake him, I might as well help him. So I told him to stand up more, relax the shoulders, and stop surging. He did and stayed with me. When he faltered, I would correct him. After all, he was only 18. He had been on the state championship XC team and was off to Arizona State in the fall. We rolled past people left and right in the final miles, going 6:22 and 6:16 uphill into the wind. He urged me to go with him as we passed a runner, but I just laughed knowing that I only had one gear. Soon I caught him anyway and had to push him on. At the end of the monstrously hilly 13th mile (which we ran in 6:31), I told him not to let two old men out kick him and he was gone. I maintained and crossed in 11th place with a time of 1:24:59, winning my age group. I was ecstatic with the pace (6:29 per mile) since I had only run 6:09’s for my 5K. Due to the stomach, I hadn't run more than 3-4 days a week for about three months. Now I am up to 6 days a week, yet only about 35-43 miles a week. With no speed work this early in the season, good things will come.

I have a fast half marathon under my belt, a good time on the Incline, and some excellent trail experience. 2010 should provide some excellent races.

Dude! So What’s Up with Your Stomach?

Time to talk about what has been going on. It started at mile 42 of Leadville. BAM! Instantly I couldn’t run anymore. The next two week s were filled with frustration from a DNF, mild nausea, and some discomfort. Then I went to the American Discovery Trail Marathon. Despite being on-pace for my goal at mile 21, I was crippled to a jog with stomach shut down.

I took a week off of running and scheduled a doctor’s visit. He thought I had a gastric ulcer. After sticking his finger in a place where no man should touch me, I was put on ulcer medication. That night was spent doubled over in pain with no sleep. I had cramping, sharp pains, and fullness. For 11 weeks, I could not eat a reasonably sized meal without feeling completely stuffed. I was never hungry anymore. A glass of beer would spoil my appetite for the entire evening. Many nights I would just skip dinner all together.

I went to the Denver Marathon with a goal of taking a Boston qualifier home. Everything was fine for about 20 miles, then it got hard, as marathons should. But at about 22 miles, I was throwing up stomach acid and slowing. The last mile killed me and I missed my time by a mere minute and 30 seconds.

Eventually, I was seen for an endoscopy to confirm the ulcer, but it came out clean. I was referred for an ultrasound to check gall stones, gall bladder lining, and other gastrointestinal structures. Again, it was clean. So I continued on the medication for a few more weeks. Then it ran out.

My dad recommended Probiotics to help set the digestive system straight. I was skeptical but I was looking for anything to change this feeling. I don’t want to jump the gun, but so far, so good. I haven’t had the full feeling, I am able to eat reasonably, and although I haven’t run a marathon since starting treatment, I haven’t puked or had stomach problems. I am looking for things to improve gradually on this treatment and return to the doctor if there isn’t a significant change. 2010 looms with a lot of tough runs and I need to be set straight.

28 miles of Xterra…

….Or, how to run a marathon on three days a week.

No, this is not the standard marathon distance for Xterra races. But by the end of the day, this is what most GPS watches would read. The day started well enough – perfect temps for a marathon. In fact, there might not be a better place to run. Colorado in fall is marked with changing colors of leaves on trees, crisp air, and snow-capped mountain peaks. Clear skies and cool temps are a given. It was going to be a good day.

Shockingly, Brooks Williams was with me for the first couple of miles of the race. Each time I have run with him he prefers to be more out in front. But this time he was back with me, chatting about his most recent race (a 50 miler where he took 6th). It made sense why he wasn’t up front. Brooks has an amazing story and you can read about him here. He would finish 4th today and cap an amazing ultra season. Congrats, Brooks!

We got separated on some hills and I ran alone. My goal was to be ultra-conservative for the first 18 miles. The course was quite hilly and I figured that I need to be cautious. After my last disaster of a marathon, I took a week off and had only been running three days per week for the last month due to the repeated stomach issues. I wasn’t ready to hammer and a challenging course only made it worse. But what a beautiful run it was. Never was there a flat spot. Even the sustained downhills had rollers in them every 30-40 meters. Any uphill came with an array of switchbacks. Boulder fields complicated even the flattest of sections. It was a killer through and through.

Despite the challenges of the course and my fitness level, I cruised through the half marathon point in 3rd place, and crept up on 2nd just after the line. I was very pleased with my positioning because, let’s face it, the split of 1:59 was nothing to write home about. With the good pacing thus far and the fact that my stomach was still good, I was excited about the prospect of negative splitting and attacking 1st place, who just rolled past in the other direction. The hunt was on.

I moved past 2nd and up a hill. After cruising down a nice rolling hill, I came to an intersection and was directed to the left by a volunteer. That didn’t seem right. “Left?” I shouted. He nodded. “Even for marathoners?” I verified and again was told to go left. Well up the hill I went and around the corner but instinctively I knew I was going the wrong way. We didn’t go up this hill this early the first time (it was a two ‘loop’ course, essentially). And there went the 8 and 21 mile mark. I was at neither at this point in the race so I stopped and waited for the guy I had passed to come by. A 5K women was next up the trail. I asked if this was right and she looked at me like I was speaking Russian. I then asked where the other guy was. She had no idea. So I turned again up the hill looking for an intersection before cursing, turning, and rocketing down the hill back the way I came. “It’s the wrong way, God Damnit!!” I yelled, whipping back around the corner onto the correct trail.

Interestingly enough, my wife stood at the intersection in a heated argument with the volunteer. She had been waiting for me at an intersection and when people that I was ahead of earlier went by, she became worried. She started asking the guy how to get me back after he directed me the wrong way. He had no idea what she was talking about. Then I came around the corner complaining and off in the other direction. She was relieved until the next racer approached. Again the guy tried to direct him up the hill. Sarah yelled at him to turn and he was obviously more afraid of her because he obliged despite what the official volunteer had instructed.

What frustrated me beyond belief is this: First, the 1st place runner had just come through. Why the guy thought I should go a different way baffles me. Next, the 3rd place runner argued with the volunteer and followed the path of 1st. So did 4th. I came back cursing and complaining about being sent the wrong way and followed the competitors. So why he thought the 5th place runner needed to go up the hill makes me want to recommend this guy for testing. Granted, it was a difficult intersection that was crossed 4 times (in two different directions) by marathoners, 2 times by half marathoners, and once by 5k runners, but still, be aware. At 2 hours, I am not at the 8 mile mark nor the 21st. So it would be a fair assumption to send me off in the other direction. Apparently, all of the runner volunteers were working aid stations. They would be much better suited on the course making judgments.

I estimated that I lost 3 minutes by making this turn. Now I was doing exactly what I had planned not to do – run hard in the early part of the 2nd loop. I was flying, hammering, and trying to get back in contact with the runners I had already passed. The only problem was that the course was all uphill. I made little gains and expended maximum effort. Three miles later, I finally caught and passed 3rd place, a runner I had passed before the half marathon mark. I continued to press the pace but saw no one ahead. Ironically, as I approached the 8 and 21 mile mark (the same intersection that I was misdirected at), I caught 2nd place again. It took me 8 miles to make up the 3 minutes I had lost and I was bushed. The next 5 (or so I thought) miles were going to be brutal. I was soon stumbling over boulders and twisting around switchbacks. My pace on the long uphill portions had started to resemble a shuffle. A huge mistake had been to convince myself that most of the last three miles was downhill. In fact, from mile 22-25 was nearly all uphill. My stomach had done wonderfully, but now I was crashing from lack of calories (largely avoided Gatorade as to not piss off my gut). I popped a Gu at 24 miles for calories, something I normally never would have done, but it seemed to help.

After finally cresting the summit of the climb, it was literally all downhill from there. The last aid station with about a mile to go allowed me to see that 3rd place was only about 200m behind me. Judging from the pace I passed him, I had just given back a ton of time to him. I knew first was out of reach but I kept on under the chance that he might have just been walking on the trail ahead of me, even more exhausted that I was. I clipped down the final descent at about 6:30/mile pace and crossed the line in much better shape that I had felt four miles previously. A conversation with the race director ensued and she offered me free entry next year. I was upset about being misdirected but I understand these things happen so I didn’t make a big deal of it. Ultimately, I don’t know what would have happened. I could have paced better over the harder parts of the course if I hadn’t lost that time. I may have been able to catch first, maybe not. He may have dusted me if I did. You never know. But I would have liked to have made a race out of it.

Regardless, I have to be pleased. It was a long course anyway, and I ran even longer than the rest. Stomach problems, 3x/week running, and getting lost equaled 2nd place. I know I could be in better shape and own this race. It was a crazy day and totally forgettable but for that it will probably be remembered more than most. But my mind is already on next year’s ultra races. This is my sport, and my chance to do it well.

A Brew Per Mile

Ever wondered how to fit trails, hill work, speed work, and a long run into your busy schedule? Just do what I do and combine them all in to a single run! That is how I manage. After two weeks of a very volatile stomach, and good solution to the stress was burgers and beer with friends. So after large amounts of both, I agreed to run the PPRR Pony Express the next morning. What I didn’t consider were the following factors:

1) It was late
2) The race was early
3) It was an hour away
4) I had a bunch of beer as my pre-race meal (unless you count cookies, burgers, and brats)
5) I had only run 2 of the last 14 days.

But early to rise and a long drive to Rampart Reservoir north of Woodland Park left me few other options. First, it was too cold to stand there so I needed to run. Next, it was a loop, so it was pretty much all or nothing. The only setback was my emergency dump in the woods moments before the start. Itchy butt equals an unhappy runner. But even pamper fresh, this run was going to have challenges.

As a side note, if you have never been to Rampart Reservoir in the morning or evening, it is absolutely worth it. The trail is excellent (props to groups who maintain such a remote trail and the views are unbeatable. Pike Peak sits high above in the backdrop of a crystal blue lake, Aspen trees going yellow, and beautiful rock formations.

I decided to run with a friend since I had no real ambition to go for a fast time on beer-filled, ulcer ridden stomach. It was a prediction run, anyway, so the overall winner didn’t receive any more than anyone else. I put down 2:04 b/c the guy I was with had run 2:07 last year. He walked up and put 2:15 complaining that he didn’t drink the night before last year’s race. We started out smart and bombed downhill to the lake. I was pretty happy with the pace as we were working through and relaxed. The trail in the early morning was amazing and it reconfirmed my love of this sport. But soon Steve started to have some stomach issues. Since I had come up to run with him, I stayed with him, chatting sparsely but mostly enjoying the run. That is until the girl behind us ate dirt hard and screamed in pain. We tried to help her but she told us to go on. A mile and 3/4s later we reached the dam.

I stopped to empty rocks from my shoe and told the emergency staff about her dive. Then I hopped up and took off trying to catch Steve on the dam. After a few minutes of running, I realized he wasn’t ahead of me. He must have stopped to use the bathroom. Not knowing how long that might be, I kept on. The wind on the top of the dam was relentless and I soon found myself feeling very rough for the first time in the 9 miles since we started. Once back on the trail, I resolved to push the effort level up a tad.

I blazed past people in the last 6 miles and ran harder than I had in a while. It was hilly and I didn’t want to bonk like I did at Mohican from pushing too early, but I wanted to feel the pain again. Runners were sparse on the trail inbound but I worked hard anyway. When I ended the loop of the lake I knew there was roughly 1.5 miles to go. A quick glance at the watch said I had 10 minutes to make it back to hit 2:04. I remembered on the outbound that it had taken 9:53 to get here. I pushed it up to finish in time.

Then the wind came. Head on, strong. The trail loosened. Soft sand sucking up the shoes. Then it rose, and rose, and rose into the sky. What was all downhill on the way out was a nasty, twisting uphill road taunting me on the way in. Every minute or so I looked at the watch and charged harder, but it all came to an end. My legs would no longer respond. My stomach finally started to feel bad and it slowed me. But I never quit sprinting (if you can call it that). I must have looked ridiculous - covered in salt, surging and fading up the trail – but it was the first time in a long time I pushed to the line. I felt proud for not letting up and the clock showed I missed my predicted time by only 43 seconds…not bad for being off pace the first two-thirds of the race. I know I have something in me to run some good races and with the stomach performing better than it has been, I am optimistic for the future.

One of the coolest awards in running!

The Beginning of the End

It is no secret I am displeased with not finishing Leadville. Even worse, I got sick this week and barely ran. I wanted to come to the American Discovery Trail Marathon and squeeze a Boston Qualifying time out of the race. But something is going on that I cannot control and I need to figure it out.

Getting dropped off 26.2 miles from where you started in always a little overwhelming. ADT does it, so does Boston, Steamboat, Deseret Morning News in Salt Lake, the Colorado Marathon, and a host of others. There is something about sitting pre-race watching the landscape fly by at 60mph and trying to fathom that you have to run all of this back to your car. It really is disheartening. What makes it worse is when you are dropped off and the bus leaves. It was about 50 degrees and crisp. Why the bus couldn’t stay 30 more minutes and let us stay warm, I don’t know. It wasn’t like it could pick up more runners and return in that time. Plus, it was Labor Day so no kids were waiting.

Anyway, the race is predominately downhill, which means only one thing for marathoners: the race will go out too fast. I felt reserved while people pounded past, and in retrospect I was probably too fast to start. Not significantly so, but the smart start the better. I do have nice things to say about the New Santa Fe Trail as it is well maintained and very beautiful. We rolled out of Palmer Lake and down the front range, before entering the Air Force Academy. As much downhill running as the course requires, it is not easy, and many hills change the pace frequently. I won’t bore your with the details, but soon after the 15th mile, I started to get into a world of hurt.

With nearly two minutes and 30 seconds “in hand” to qualify for Boston, I should have been fine. But something was wrong and my stomach didn’t hold up. As each mile came and went, I slowed and suffered more. At 22 miles, there was no hope of making my time. I had been calculating how much I could slow and still make it. I watched as those milestones came and went. No matter how hard I pushed, I still couldn’t get my time. Done with the suffering, I backed off and literally jogged in. I somehow still pulled an age-group award out of the deal but I was beyond devastated with my body. Why I couldn’t run well anymore was beyond me.

I took the week off and went to the doctor. Boston would have to wait.

Leadville 100..... or so....

Even though I could barely sleep in the early hours of Friday morning, I missed my dad’s phone call at 5:30am. I soon found that my grandmother had passed away on the night of her 85th birthday. The news was both devastating and expected as she had been sick for some time. My grandfather, aunt, and mother were shouting encouragement over the phone to run hard for grandma. I choked back tears and agreed, but that isn’t what grandma would have wanted. She was “a tough old bird” and she would have wanted me to run for myself – for me to take pride in my effort and be strong over the long haul like she was recently and throughout her life. She fought for months- years- and now I needed to take that fighting spirit with me to the mountains. Her battle was over. Mine was about to begin.

There couldn’t have been a more perfect day for a 100 mile jaunt in the mountains. The air was crisp but not cold and the sky was a splatter of white stars on a black canvas. Tony Krupicka brushed past me in the final moments before the gun and took his place among one of the most competitive start fields ever assembled at Leadville.

The first several miles went by without a hitch, as they should. As one guy went bombing past me downhill in a way that reads DNF all over it, tape, pain killers, and other medical devices flew from his backpack. I scooped them up and yelled to him but his headphones blocked all efforts. Not wanting to sprint early in the race for this guy who was violating several of my fundamental beliefs, I was about to huck his gear into the woods. But I slowly reeled him in and tugged hard on his backpack to which he finally realized other people were out there with him.

The fantastic Jamie Donaldson breezed by me just before the power line climb and I was shocked to see her back here at this point in the race, but she was soon out of sight, in pursuit of the great Darcy Africa who I had finished just in front of here in 2006. Once we gained the lake trail, I was in awe of the beauty of this course with the shimmering lake reflecting the trees and stars that surrounded it. It is truly frustrating that the most picturesque section of this race is completed both out and back in the dark.

Approaching the boat ramp on the outbound is always one of my favorite portions of the run. The headlamps are bouncing along in a line around the water’s edge like a string of fireflies in the night and all the while a dull roar grows louder as you approach a seemingly worthless crew point (mile 7). Yet, at 5am, hundreds of crew members were packed along the narrow trail 3-4 deep on both sides yelling and creating a tunnel of emotion as we rocketed through. Most people don’t stop here or take aid, but it is a nice boost just the same.

The next portion of trail was very challenging. Small rocks dot the otherwise smooth trail and narrow passages meet larger boulder. All of this runs along a narrow ridge and the trail is often muddy. People were far too eager and ran every little ridge of this trail. Trips and spills occurred just ahead and often behind me. It is always the same: A thunk, a loud swear, and someone is in the dirt. I just never saw the advantage of charging up hills and hurting yourself at mile 9 of 100. But to each his own. I rolled into May Queen (13.5mi) 6 min slower than 2006 and very happy. I had expended no energy. A new camelback, a toss of the headlamp, and I was gone up the road in mere seconds, as was my goal.

The next few miles of the course, I believe, are responsible in the end for more DNFs than any other part, and here is why: This section is early in the course and mistakes are made. Hours later it isn’t Hope Pass that ends people – it is Hope Pass with this mountain in your legs. First, you climb the Colorado Trail which you would run any day of the week, but not race day. It is just steep enough to burn you out if you run the whole thing. Then you gain Hagerman Pass Rd. and you think you can run to the top of the mountain. Well, it will destroy you. I hooked up with Brooks Williams on this section and started talking. We watched people continue to run up the hill but never pull away from us as we walked and drank. It was pointless. On top of the peak you can run forever down, but pushing too hard will leave you destroyed for the flattest and easiest part of the course. In 2006, I blazed up and hammered down this 10 mile section and it cost me physically and mentally later that night. I was casual, and came in only 4 minutes behind 2006, meaning I made up 2 min (probably in the aid station) while chilling out on the climb and descent.

What is really funny is the next 4-6 miles are about the easiest on the course. Pavement, flat, lots of aid before and after. But for some reason, this section really sucks. I think people who push too hard in the first 24 miles really pay starting here. The paved part is slightly uphill and you can see all of your competition up the road. This year I just set a good tempo and rolled. People came back naturally. Although I wasn’t in pain by the end of these 4.6 miles like 2006, it was still tough. But I was moving and not even remotely struggling.

Due to a military helicopter crash during the week, the course had been rerouted. The new section was welcomed – the approach to the Colorado Trail was more gradual and mostly on dirt road. I was still being ultra conservative by walking most sections that even resembled an incline. After all, I was only at about 30 miles. It was a pleasure to run some of this section with Lynette Clemons, the eventual women’s winner. I pulled away from her in an aid station and continued to be conservative, catching a few people anyway but also giving back a spot or two. I came up Jamie Donaldson who was really struggling. She looked like she had been throwing up so I walked some hills with her. Later she would recover for 2nd place. I wish I were that strong.

The descent into Twin Lakes is difficult, painful, and scary. I was begging for the end of the rocky slope and my wish was finally granted. A quick check of the watch proved I was about 30 seconds ahead of 2006 at 40 miles despite all of my conservative pacing! I couldn’t have been happier. Unfortunately, my luck was about to change.

After changing shoes, I elected to go with a single water bottle for Hope Pass. It was a long section but mostly shaded and I had some stomach issues that I was chalking up to too much Gatorade. So I went with water, and it was a mistake. But before disaster struck, I plowed through the open meadows and the river crossing at the base of the mountain. I was passed by Lynette and a group of guys as I emptied out my shoes. Then I started the climb. I would not be back.

The first step up the hill was terrible. Instantly I felt a pain in my stomach and could barely manage to keep going. Hoping that it would pass, I continued walking up the mountain as runner after runner went by. It was like watching myself in slow motion. I could see one foot go in front of the other but I could not get the message from my brain to my legs to go faster. There was a blocking wall in the middle of my stomach that would not let me run. I struggled significantly for more than an hour and felt blessed to finally come upon Hopeless Pass aid station. I sat on the ground drinking soup and Coke like it was going out of stock. The medic had me come to the tent where my pulse, oxygen level, and blood sugar were all checked and were all perfect. Yet my first few steps out of the aid station proved that I was no better off than when I arrived 20 min previously. Brooks gained the summit and shouted in triumph. Tony and Tim Parr both had gone past on the inbound while I was sitting on my butt.

There are few things less enjoyable than the descent of Hope Pass. The trail is narrow and full of switchbacks so getting a rhythm is impossible. If you aren’t in the top 10 then your entire trip down the mountain is halted by frequent people and their pacers coming back up. The sun is beating down and you are at a point of dehydration and exhaustion that makes the mere thought of going back up and over this beast in a few miles seem impossible. My trip down was all of these things. No momentum was gained because my stomach actually hurt more going down than up. My water bottle had half Powerade and half water (as refilled at the aid station) and none of it was going in. I shuffled down the entire path, stopping every 50 meters or so to let people pass me going up. I figured they had a shot to make a race out of this. I was looking to survive.

The dirt road into Winfield is miserable. It is all up hill and you are constantly reminded by how far back you are by the number of people on their way back toward Leadville. The worst part is the many cars of crew members coming and going on the dirt road. There is only one route into Winfield and it gets very crowded.

I staggered along the road running sparingly but not feeling the need to push any kind of pace what so ever. The long uphill road was unwelcomed as my water bottle yielded only hot Powerade. Upon finally reaching Winfield, I knew things had gone horribly wrong. I was about an hour behind where I should have been after leaving Twin Lakes. The sit down with Sarah and Michael was depressing. The urged me on like a good crew but I was reluctant to proceed. I figured that I could take some water, start walking, and eventually drop out. There was no need to prolong the inevitable. But stubborn as Michael and Sarah were, I walked about a quarter of a mile. It was depressing realizing that even if things did improve, hours had already been lost. I turned back dejected and frustrated. Getting your bracelet cut off is one of the lowest moments in ultrarunning.

Later that evening at dinner, the lack of calories final took their toll. I was dizzy and nauseous as I struggled to munch a taco with my head rested on the table. It was miserable. My hydration was low but came back fairly quickly and my legs were surprisingly strong the next morning. I just could not figure out what the problem had been. I have paced brilliantly and my legs felt perfect. Something deeper had gone wrong and it would take me another 3 months to get it together.

50 miles for you, grandma. 50 miles for each of the times you woke me up at 5am for hockey practice, fed, me, and pushed me into the frozen car. 11 hours for each year you sat on hard bleacher seats to watch me play hockey. You were a classy chick, and we love you. I wish I could have done more for you. Rest in peace, grams.