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| Before the start, double checking gear Jess, Me, Whitney and Rick |
August 21, 2010
100 miles
29 hours 20 minutes 27.5 seconds
847 registered runners
363 finishers
847 registered runners
363 finishers
The day is here before I know it. Last night it was a little noisy in the cabin and I had to get out to clear my head. I walked down to the end of the campground road and looked at the mountains that I would be traversing the next day. In front of me I saw the gravel, dirt road that we runners would be on in the morning heading out of Leadville toward Winfield. A deep breath of fresh, clean cool mountain air and I relax. I am quietly joined by Rick who must have sensed I was getting a bit overwhelmed inside.
I tell him I just needed some peace and quiet and as we head back to the cabin, we pass a few other runners making their way to their tents or cabins. No salutation is needed, a slight tilt of the head at the green medical wrist band acknowleging each other and our own personal demons or desires, is all that is required or desired. Each of us is heading into the race tomorrow with our own goals in mind. We are beginning our preparations, going over and over in our minds our pre race check list - what will the weather be? Shorts or running pants? Do I have enough gus/gels/aspirin in my pockets? Where is my flashlight? Whatever it is, each of us is doing it and we all need that peace and quiet and silence.
On our return to the cabin, all of the family and friends must have realized that I needed quiet and those not staying with us have returned to their cabins or rvs. It is now time to say goodnight and try to get some sleep. The demons will have to wait until tomorrow.
I tell him I just needed some peace and quiet and as we head back to the cabin, we pass a few other runners making their way to their tents or cabins. No salutation is needed, a slight tilt of the head at the green medical wrist band acknowleging each other and our own personal demons or desires, is all that is required or desired. Each of us is heading into the race tomorrow with our own goals in mind. We are beginning our preparations, going over and over in our minds our pre race check list - what will the weather be? Shorts or running pants? Do I have enough gus/gels/aspirin in my pockets? Where is my flashlight? Whatever it is, each of us is doing it and we all need that peace and quiet and silence.
On our return to the cabin, all of the family and friends must have realized that I needed quiet and those not staying with us have returned to their cabins or rvs. It is now time to say goodnight and try to get some sleep. The demons will have to wait until tomorrow.
It's 2:30 am and I roll out of bed as quietly as I can so I do not wake Rick, Whitney, Jess, or Josh on the sofa. I turn on the light in the bathroom, gather my running clothes that I prepared the night before, brush my teeth and make sure the coffee is on. Now begins the questioning that precedes each race - the same questions I faced alone the night before. It is never about my training. I trained hard. I trained long and I put in the miles of trials. It is about what to wear, what to take, does my crew understand how vitally important they are to my ultimate success or failure? Can those who do not run 25 miles alone each Sunday possibly understand?
Dad pops in a little before 3:00 am and I rouse my sleepy girls. It's almost time to drive to the start, check in, and begin this little race. Rick and Jess jump into car with me and we're off. Whitney and Josh follow along and I lose track of all the others. I am focusing on the race. I am running around Turquoise Lake in my head, power hiking up Hope Pass and sloshing through the meadow. Run it; run it; run it a thousand times in your head before ever putting toe to line.
Dad pops in a little before 3:00 am and I rouse my sleepy girls. It's almost time to drive to the start, check in, and begin this little race. Rick and Jess jump into car with me and we're off. Whitney and Josh follow along and I lose track of all the others. I am focusing on the race. I am running around Turquoise Lake in my head, power hiking up Hope Pass and sloshing through the meadow. Run it; run it; run it a thousand times in your head before ever putting toe to line.
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| Waiting to start at 4:00 am |
I arrive at the start in plenty of time. Rick, the girls, Josh, Dad, Robin, Mom, Woody, and I think Michelle are all here. I'm really only aware of Rick and Jess and Whit. After checking in, I tell them which side of the road I'm going to line up on so they can see me as I start. "You're Stronger than you Think you Are" booms from the co- race directors and the count down begins.
Strangely, I am not nervous, I have no doubts, I just want this race to begin. I know I can't afford pre-race jitters as they'll take too much of my energy and I'm jealously guarding my energy today. It's 4:00 am on the dot and the gun goes off. The line surges forward down 6th street heading out of town; however, as far back as I am, I begin to slowly shuffle at first and hope my family sees me as I pass them.
We make our way down the dirt/gravel road known as the boulevard and my first miles are at 11:43 and 11:29 respectively. I don't know this since I've vowed not to look at my garmin too much and race too much against myself during Leadville. It would be insane for me to do so. All I am worried about is making it to each checkpoint with time to spare before the cut-offs. I've given Rick a preliminary estimate of how long I think each segment will take me. Turns out, I was spot on the first 50 miles, even added some padding to my rough estimates; but after 50 miles, all bets are off. However, I digress, let's get back to the first leg of Leadville - from the start to May Queen aid station on Turquoise Lake at 13.5 miles into the race.
Before I jump onto the single track around Turquoise Lake, I realize I am passing my own campground and trodding on the very same road I stood at last night. I look to my left and spy one of the pirate flags I passed out to my crew, friends and family. It is Gloria waving her flag and shouting encouragements to strangers as if they were her own children. What a glorious sight! I yell to her and she sees me and smiles as she now has a target for her frantic well wishes! I pass her my long sleeve shirt and tell her to give it to Rick when she sees him. Wow. What great friends. It is freezing cold for her (mild 30s CO) and she is out in the pre-dawn hours watching, in her mind - a bunch of lunatics, run 100 miles.
Continuing around the lake in the early morning mist, I hit traffic. I am about 8th line behind someone picking their way around the lake and my blood pressure begins to rise. Just pull over I scream in my head; but nothing doing. I hate it when runners ignore those piling up behind them. I know it's dawn and it's a single track; however, it is a race you bloody fool I want to yell at her. Finally, after what seems to be miles and miles, I cannot take it anymore and when the trail widens a bit, I pass all 7 in front of me. I am quickly followed by, it seems, 6 others. Ha! I wasn't the only runner silently swearing in the safety of my own head.
After the single track, we hit road and I can hear May Queen before I see it. 2 hours 41 minutes and 25 seconds and I'm in May Queen! The cut off is 7:15 am and I am here at 6:41. Good, over 30 minutes ahead of the cut off. I hope to keep that up as I continue. As I come in, Jess and Robin are there cheering me on before I hit the aid station. Jess runs alongside me with walkie talkie in hand. She asks me what I need and relays it to Rick.
When I pull through and find my crew, they swarm me and all begin asking me what I need. This overwhelms me and I cannot process anything.
I am not used to having any crew in an ultra and this ... wow, all this with good intentions; but I cannot think, let alone process. Fortunately, I do get the essentials and I grab what I need from willing hands and hit the trail again with Rick jogging along side me for a bit. I know I must have been a bit short with them; but I'm in a race now, I'm not there to socialize and every second I stay there is one less I have to run. (I found out later that the walkie talkies were not working).
Back out on the course and I feel great. I have no issues right now, I am running at a nice pace and the weather is absolutely gorgeous. I begin to notice those around me and talk to a few as I pass them or they pass me. What a great day!
This section takes me over my first major climb - Sugarloaf Pass at 11,071 elevation. I begin climbing the fire road that winds up to Sugarloaf pass with my power hiking that I've honed all summer long and I trudge up the road in grand style passing people. Once I hit the top, I spy Barefoot Bob and a runner with him. I tell Bob I don't know who is crazier, him or me. He is wearing rubber sandals and I already see blood on his right foot. Geesh, what a glutton for punishment I think before I realize who it is and that he's run with the Tarahumara. The runner next to him begins to talk to me and I find out he's run Leadville numerous times so I ask him for advice. "Virgin," he says, "take it easy on the downhills." Good advice for me, since this is someone I really need to listen to and I must make sure I don't blow out my quads. Also, I love running downhills and have counted on my ability on the downhill sections to make up time.
I am having a problem now. It started before May Queen and I elected to ignore it. The heels of my running shoes are rubbing my own heels raw. I've never had this problem before and I run through my pre-race week. Darn it! It occurs to me I put new insoles in my shoes about two weeks prior and this little bit of extra padding is wrecking havoc on my heels. I shove this pain to the back of my brain. It's not intense, just annoying and what am I going to do? Stop? Ha! I read a story earlier this year and one of the runners in it had his pacer tell him, "Blisters?! You can't die from blisters! Get up!" So, with that running through my mind, I press on and begin the descent down to Fish Hatchery.
There is a horrible stretch downhill called power line here and I pick my way gingerly down the washed out section with power lines buzzing above me. It's a steep downhill and the words of wisdom given to me miles ago play back in my head. My right IT band twinges a bit down here and I take some fast acting tylenol to knock it out. Little did I know this was a precursor of things to come.
I make it down this section a lot slower than I thought it would take and then get back into a groove again as the course levels out. That's a funny statement! I'm running in the Rocky Mountains and I consider a stretch without a major climb or descent, level!
Once again Jess and Robin are yards in front of the aid station waving a sign and yelling at me! A big smile spreads across my face and I relay through Jess to Rick what I think I need. I cruise into the aid station with a total elapsed time of 5 hours 5 minutes and 2 seconds. This second stage of 10 miles has taken me 2 hours 23 minutes and 36 seconds to accomplish -- not bad considering Sugarloaf Pass. The cut off time is 10 am and I am here at 5 past nine. I have added another 25 minutes to my padding on the cut-off time (total of 55 minutes ahead now) and I am very happy.
Going through the aid station, I spy my crew and tell Rick my heels are killing me and he, Chris and Whit quickly take my shoes off to put mole skin on them. The whole time they do this, I am complaining about all the time I am losing. Those poor guys, trying to help me and all I want to do is get back out there and run!
This aid station pit crew stop is a lot smoother than the first. Rick realized what happened and had a talk with them I guess. He walks me out of the aid station as I eat a banana and hold a peanut butter sandwich. Silly things like not having the banana peeled are bothering me and I tell Rick. Once again, they've never seen me so demanding!
I'm off on the third leg with 23.5 miles down, only 76.5 miles left to go! This section starts with 4 miles of asphalt road with no cover and it is a place where good flat runners can make up time.
Heels are the only thing really bothering me now. The mole skin helps a bit until my sweat causes it to move around, now it is just getting annoying and I have more difficulty pushing it to the back of my mind. However, during this stretch I meet a wonderful racer. In the middle of Rick and Whit trying to fix my heels, I forgot to pick up my seal bag of salt tablets for this stretch! The road is warming up with the sun getting higher and hotter as I run. I pass by a runner with a British flag on her backpack and strike up a conversation. She and her husband are running Leadville! Her name is Nicole Brown and she and I talk a bit as we run on the road. I tell her how upset I am and how silly it is, over salt tablets. She reaches into her pocket and says, "here, take some of mine." I thank her profusely as I do take 3 to tied me over to the next crew stop. She confides in me that she is not feeling well and we run together a bit more as I try to reassure her and give her confidence. My pace is a bit faster and I ask her if she wants to go along, no thank you. So I continue up to Treeline and my crew.
This section goes by quickly for the crews, it is a dash to get to the aid station and set up before the runners come in. The runners cannot be crewed at Half Moon aid station, so we get what we can before then at Treeline. This is important since we won't see them again until mile 39.5 and Twin Lakes. I am noticing a phenomena before each aid station. Jessica and Robin's clothing is getting a little more crazy each time I see them! It takes awhile for this to dawn on me and when it does, I finally realize why they were late getting to Leadville the night before. And I yelled at them at the time. Sorry guys!!
Now, my crew is working so well together. I spy Woody and tell him about Nicole behind me and that she may need a pacer out of Winfield. She didn't bring any with her. He nods and tells me he will talk to her as she goes through. It's sunny, I'm doing well and I'm running in the Rockies with my family all there ... does it get any better?
Out of Treeline and up to Half Moon. This section seems to go on forever. Two years ago, I thought it was just a couple of miles from Half Moon down to Treeline when I paced Felix; I must have been mistaken. I spy Nicole ahead of me; she passed me as I was getting crewed. I slowly catch up to her and ask her how she is doing. Not so hot Nicole says. I don't know what else to do so I give her a piece of my candied ginger and tell her it really helps settle my stomach. I hope it works for her. We talk a bit more and Nicole once again tells me to push on and with a smile I do just that.
It seems this section is all uphill so I end up powerhiking a good deal of this section. In addition, the moving mole skin is now killing me. Finally, I see the tent for Half Moon. It is a quiet aid station and I quickly pass through looking for first aid for my heels. I am directed to the first aid tent and I am flipped on my back on the cot for them to see my heels. This feels pretty good as it stretches my core.
The first aid gurus ask me how many miles I logged in my shoes ... but they're my lucky shoes! Not today they aren't they respond as they chide me for wearing my shoes through my 4th ultra of the year. After repositioning the mole skin, they apply duct tape to the whole thing and I quickly lace up my shoes and head out the door. Not so fast, they tell me. I quickly find out, anyone requiring medical attention needs to jump on the scale. Sure, not a problem. The scale tells me I've gained weight. Good! This means I'm hydrating well, eating enough and not bonking. Good also, because no digits are swollen - I don't feel like I am retaining a bunch of water either. However, the total time in the aid station kills me, it's at least 10 minutes and I hate it. Total time elapsed to this point, 6 hours 53 minutes and 11 seconds. This leg (from Fish Hatchery to Half Moon) took 1 hour 48 minutes and 9 seconds. It is 10:53 am and I'm doing fine.
The next leg is a nice leg of running on nice soft trails through trees. It doesn't seem to be all downhill but let me tell you, on the way back, I'll realize it! I enjoy this stretch in the cool trees but I have a new issue pop up. That right IT band, or what I thought was the IT band, turns out to be my right knee.
I am experiencing a sharp, stabbing pain on the outside of my right knee anytime I run downhill. It started as a sporadic pain but is now flaring up each time I hit a fairly steep downhill section. My one true strength, running downhills has just been chewed up and spit out on the course. I am not happy as I frantically run through my mind all of the aches and pains I've had running to date to figure out what this is. If it is something I've experienced before, then I'll know what to do; how to treat it and how to repress it. Familiar pain is just that, familiar. You can block it by treating it like an not-so-nice old friend. Yeah, I hear ya, I know you're there; but I'm going to ignore you 'cause I know you. You don't scare me. That's how I deal with pain - a familiar pain. Unfamiliar pain is scary and more difficult to ignore and make go away. I pop an 800mg pain killer and hope that it blocks the pain for me since I can't seem to do it on my own.
After about 30 minutes, I can run but I am running very gingerly downhill now. The uphill, I am good, the flats, they don't bother me as long as I am wary. Overall, I can't decide if I need to tell anyone or not. I don't want my crew to worry needlessly and as I told them before the race, I'd have to have a broken bone sticking out of the skin before I stop running.
After what seems to be a very long time, I hear Twin Lakes and the crews cheering their runners on long before I ever see it. This gives me a great boost and not so long after that, there are Jessica and Robin again! I glance at them and try to tell Jess what I need but the trail dropping down to Twin Lakes is steep and I need to pay attention to it.
Once again my crew is there and waiting for me. They direct me to the truck and I sit on the tailgate while they adjust my heels and shoes again. I don't want them to do too much since I have the water and the meadow next before Hope. They've also thoughtfully set up a lawn chair; however, I shy away from it like the plague -- I'm afraid if I sit down in it I'll never rise up.
Strangely, I am not nervous, I have no doubts, I just want this race to begin. I know I can't afford pre-race jitters as they'll take too much of my energy and I'm jealously guarding my energy today. It's 4:00 am on the dot and the gun goes off. The line surges forward down 6th street heading out of town; however, as far back as I am, I begin to slowly shuffle at first and hope my family sees me as I pass them.
We make our way down the dirt/gravel road known as the boulevard and my first miles are at 11:43 and 11:29 respectively. I don't know this since I've vowed not to look at my garmin too much and race too much against myself during Leadville. It would be insane for me to do so. All I am worried about is making it to each checkpoint with time to spare before the cut-offs. I've given Rick a preliminary estimate of how long I think each segment will take me. Turns out, I was spot on the first 50 miles, even added some padding to my rough estimates; but after 50 miles, all bets are off. However, I digress, let's get back to the first leg of Leadville - from the start to May Queen aid station on Turquoise Lake at 13.5 miles into the race.
Before I jump onto the single track around Turquoise Lake, I realize I am passing my own campground and trodding on the very same road I stood at last night. I look to my left and spy one of the pirate flags I passed out to my crew, friends and family. It is Gloria waving her flag and shouting encouragements to strangers as if they were her own children. What a glorious sight! I yell to her and she sees me and smiles as she now has a target for her frantic well wishes! I pass her my long sleeve shirt and tell her to give it to Rick when she sees him. Wow. What great friends. It is freezing cold for her (mild 30s CO) and she is out in the pre-dawn hours watching, in her mind - a bunch of lunatics, run 100 miles.
Continuing around the lake in the early morning mist, I hit traffic. I am about 8th line behind someone picking their way around the lake and my blood pressure begins to rise. Just pull over I scream in my head; but nothing doing. I hate it when runners ignore those piling up behind them. I know it's dawn and it's a single track; however, it is a race you bloody fool I want to yell at her. Finally, after what seems to be miles and miles, I cannot take it anymore and when the trail widens a bit, I pass all 7 in front of me. I am quickly followed by, it seems, 6 others. Ha! I wasn't the only runner silently swearing in the safety of my own head.
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| Coming into May Queen |
After the single track, we hit road and I can hear May Queen before I see it. 2 hours 41 minutes and 25 seconds and I'm in May Queen! The cut off is 7:15 am and I am here at 6:41. Good, over 30 minutes ahead of the cut off. I hope to keep that up as I continue. As I come in, Jess and Robin are there cheering me on before I hit the aid station. Jess runs alongside me with walkie talkie in hand. She asks me what I need and relays it to Rick.
When I pull through and find my crew, they swarm me and all begin asking me what I need. This overwhelms me and I cannot process anything.
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| May Queen and Crew |
I am not used to having any crew in an ultra and this ... wow, all this with good intentions; but I cannot think, let alone process. Fortunately, I do get the essentials and I grab what I need from willing hands and hit the trail again with Rick jogging along side me for a bit. I know I must have been a bit short with them; but I'm in a race now, I'm not there to socialize and every second I stay there is one less I have to run. (I found out later that the walkie talkies were not working).
Back out on the course and I feel great. I have no issues right now, I am running at a nice pace and the weather is absolutely gorgeous. I begin to notice those around me and talk to a few as I pass them or they pass me. What a great day!
This section takes me over my first major climb - Sugarloaf Pass at 11,071 elevation. I begin climbing the fire road that winds up to Sugarloaf pass with my power hiking that I've honed all summer long and I trudge up the road in grand style passing people. Once I hit the top, I spy Barefoot Bob and a runner with him. I tell Bob I don't know who is crazier, him or me. He is wearing rubber sandals and I already see blood on his right foot. Geesh, what a glutton for punishment I think before I realize who it is and that he's run with the Tarahumara. The runner next to him begins to talk to me and I find out he's run Leadville numerous times so I ask him for advice. "Virgin," he says, "take it easy on the downhills." Good advice for me, since this is someone I really need to listen to and I must make sure I don't blow out my quads. Also, I love running downhills and have counted on my ability on the downhill sections to make up time.
I am having a problem now. It started before May Queen and I elected to ignore it. The heels of my running shoes are rubbing my own heels raw. I've never had this problem before and I run through my pre-race week. Darn it! It occurs to me I put new insoles in my shoes about two weeks prior and this little bit of extra padding is wrecking havoc on my heels. I shove this pain to the back of my brain. It's not intense, just annoying and what am I going to do? Stop? Ha! I read a story earlier this year and one of the runners in it had his pacer tell him, "Blisters?! You can't die from blisters! Get up!" So, with that running through my mind, I press on and begin the descent down to Fish Hatchery.
There is a horrible stretch downhill called power line here and I pick my way gingerly down the washed out section with power lines buzzing above me. It's a steep downhill and the words of wisdom given to me miles ago play back in my head. My right IT band twinges a bit down here and I take some fast acting tylenol to knock it out. Little did I know this was a precursor of things to come.
I make it down this section a lot slower than I thought it would take and then get back into a groove again as the course levels out. That's a funny statement! I'm running in the Rocky Mountains and I consider a stretch without a major climb or descent, level!
Once again Jess and Robin are yards in front of the aid station waving a sign and yelling at me! A big smile spreads across my face and I relay through Jess to Rick what I think I need. I cruise into the aid station with a total elapsed time of 5 hours 5 minutes and 2 seconds. This second stage of 10 miles has taken me 2 hours 23 minutes and 36 seconds to accomplish -- not bad considering Sugarloaf Pass. The cut off time is 10 am and I am here at 5 past nine. I have added another 25 minutes to my padding on the cut-off time (total of 55 minutes ahead now) and I am very happy.
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| Working on blisters at Fish Hatchery Michelle, Woody (red), Chris and Mom |
Going through the aid station, I spy my crew and tell Rick my heels are killing me and he, Chris and Whit quickly take my shoes off to put mole skin on them. The whole time they do this, I am complaining about all the time I am losing. Those poor guys, trying to help me and all I want to do is get back out there and run!
This aid station pit crew stop is a lot smoother than the first. Rick realized what happened and had a talk with them I guess. He walks me out of the aid station as I eat a banana and hold a peanut butter sandwich. Silly things like not having the banana peeled are bothering me and I tell Rick. Once again, they've never seen me so demanding!
When I went through the aid station I picked up some power bars. Now I spy F on the way out and tell him I picked them up for him! F, Chris and Diane have driven up and made it to Fish Hatchery before me! I tell F what a great stretch that was and that I cannot wait to run the Sugarloaf fire road on the way back!
I'm off on the third leg with 23.5 miles down, only 76.5 miles left to go! This section starts with 4 miles of asphalt road with no cover and it is a place where good flat runners can make up time.
Heels are the only thing really bothering me now. The mole skin helps a bit until my sweat causes it to move around, now it is just getting annoying and I have more difficulty pushing it to the back of my mind. However, during this stretch I meet a wonderful racer. In the middle of Rick and Whit trying to fix my heels, I forgot to pick up my seal bag of salt tablets for this stretch! The road is warming up with the sun getting higher and hotter as I run. I pass by a runner with a British flag on her backpack and strike up a conversation. She and her husband are running Leadville! Her name is Nicole Brown and she and I talk a bit as we run on the road. I tell her how upset I am and how silly it is, over salt tablets. She reaches into her pocket and says, "here, take some of mine." I thank her profusely as I do take 3 to tied me over to the next crew stop. She confides in me that she is not feeling well and we run together a bit more as I try to reassure her and give her confidence. My pace is a bit faster and I ask her if she wants to go along, no thank you. So I continue up to Treeline and my crew.
This section goes by quickly for the crews, it is a dash to get to the aid station and set up before the runners come in. The runners cannot be crewed at Half Moon aid station, so we get what we can before then at Treeline. This is important since we won't see them again until mile 39.5 and Twin Lakes. I am noticing a phenomena before each aid station. Jessica and Robin's clothing is getting a little more crazy each time I see them! It takes awhile for this to dawn on me and when it does, I finally realize why they were late getting to Leadville the night before. And I yelled at them at the time. Sorry guys!!
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| Leaving Tree Line heading up to Half Moon - Rick and Michelle walking next to me. |
Out of Treeline and up to Half Moon. This section seems to go on forever. Two years ago, I thought it was just a couple of miles from Half Moon down to Treeline when I paced Felix; I must have been mistaken. I spy Nicole ahead of me; she passed me as I was getting crewed. I slowly catch up to her and ask her how she is doing. Not so hot Nicole says. I don't know what else to do so I give her a piece of my candied ginger and tell her it really helps settle my stomach. I hope it works for her. We talk a bit more and Nicole once again tells me to push on and with a smile I do just that.
It seems this section is all uphill so I end up powerhiking a good deal of this section. In addition, the moving mole skin is now killing me. Finally, I see the tent for Half Moon. It is a quiet aid station and I quickly pass through looking for first aid for my heels. I am directed to the first aid tent and I am flipped on my back on the cot for them to see my heels. This feels pretty good as it stretches my core.
The first aid gurus ask me how many miles I logged in my shoes ... but they're my lucky shoes! Not today they aren't they respond as they chide me for wearing my shoes through my 4th ultra of the year. After repositioning the mole skin, they apply duct tape to the whole thing and I quickly lace up my shoes and head out the door. Not so fast, they tell me. I quickly find out, anyone requiring medical attention needs to jump on the scale. Sure, not a problem. The scale tells me I've gained weight. Good! This means I'm hydrating well, eating enough and not bonking. Good also, because no digits are swollen - I don't feel like I am retaining a bunch of water either. However, the total time in the aid station kills me, it's at least 10 minutes and I hate it. Total time elapsed to this point, 6 hours 53 minutes and 11 seconds. This leg (from Fish Hatchery to Half Moon) took 1 hour 48 minutes and 9 seconds. It is 10:53 am and I'm doing fine.
The next leg is a nice leg of running on nice soft trails through trees. It doesn't seem to be all downhill but let me tell you, on the way back, I'll realize it! I enjoy this stretch in the cool trees but I have a new issue pop up. That right IT band, or what I thought was the IT band, turns out to be my right knee.
I am experiencing a sharp, stabbing pain on the outside of my right knee anytime I run downhill. It started as a sporadic pain but is now flaring up each time I hit a fairly steep downhill section. My one true strength, running downhills has just been chewed up and spit out on the course. I am not happy as I frantically run through my mind all of the aches and pains I've had running to date to figure out what this is. If it is something I've experienced before, then I'll know what to do; how to treat it and how to repress it. Familiar pain is just that, familiar. You can block it by treating it like an not-so-nice old friend. Yeah, I hear ya, I know you're there; but I'm going to ignore you 'cause I know you. You don't scare me. That's how I deal with pain - a familiar pain. Unfamiliar pain is scary and more difficult to ignore and make go away. I pop an 800mg pain killer and hope that it blocks the pain for me since I can't seem to do it on my own.
After about 30 minutes, I can run but I am running very gingerly downhill now. The uphill, I am good, the flats, they don't bother me as long as I am wary. Overall, I can't decide if I need to tell anyone or not. I don't want my crew to worry needlessly and as I told them before the race, I'd have to have a broken bone sticking out of the skin before I stop running.
After what seems to be a very long time, I hear Twin Lakes and the crews cheering their runners on long before I ever see it. This gives me a great boost and not so long after that, there are Jessica and Robin again! I glance at them and try to tell Jess what I need but the trail dropping down to Twin Lakes is steep and I need to pay attention to it.
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| Twin Lakes and working on the blisters ... again. Michelle, Woody, F, Rick and Chris |
39.5 miles into the race and I've been out for 8 hours 39 minutes and 48 seconds and I'm not even halfway through the race. This section took me 1 hour 46 minutes and 36 seconds. Overall, it's 12:40 pm and the cut-off is for 2 pm. I'm making time. I'll need this since the hardest part is staring right up at me ... Hope Pass and a 10.5 mile stretch to Winfield.
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| Leaving Twin Lakes - Hope Pass ahead |
I get off the tailgate and head out into the open meadow while eating and drinking. I'm taking it slow as I push into the meadow, I have a lot of climbing ahead of me. Not quite half way through the meadow, I hit the first of 5 water crossings with the last the deepest. The water is freezing but feels great on my burning heels and as I go through the last one, I stop in the middle for a second since it is up to my knees and I want the water to cool off my right knee a bit.
It is during this stretch that I look up and see Tony Krupicka running towards me with his pacer. I yell at him good luck and marvel that he has already climbed Hope Pass twice while I'm still on this side of the meadow. Note: Tony was an hour ahead of the next runner but dropped at Twin Lakes or Half Moon, not sure where.
Once through the meadow, I begin the long uphill to Hope Pass. I force myself into a slow, mile crunching slog up this mountain. As I slowly make my way up Hope, I am astonished to see so many runners on the side of the trail. As I pass them, I ask them if they are alright. One responded, "yup, just stopped for a picnic." I pass 12 runners that have stepped to the side to catch their breath and numerous others that were moving, just a tad slower than I.
Don't get the impression that this section was easy; it was by far the most difficult stretch I ran (excluding Windy Peak at Golden Gate Dirty Thirty which probably prepared me for this); I invoked my Gimli the Dwarf saying numerous times, "Keep breathing, just keep breathing." I had to continue, I dared not stop and not be able to start again. I saw a runner ahead of me place her hands behind her back in Apollo Ohno speed skating style and so I tried this technique and found it worked well. Head bent down, don't look up, one foot in front of the other, breathe, and do it again, and again, and a thousand times again.
After what seems ages, the trees broke and I was above treeline looking up and seeing a tent. It was the aid station below Hope Pass and I only had about a mile (or so it seemed) to go to get to it. It was windy and cool and I was happy I had my yellow jacket tied around my waist. I zipped it up and trudged onward and upward until I was greeted by smiling volunteers who took my camelback and filled it up for me. At 11,836' in elevation, this aid station was a welcomed sight. Whew! Only need to go to the top, crest, run down to Winfield, turn around and do it all again. Llamas graced the field around the aid station - they are the pack mules who make this aid station happen and I felt like Heidi or Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music seeing them grazing with the Rockies in the background.
After refueling, I continued on to the crest of Hope Pass at 12,526'. My goodness! That stretch took its toll on me! I knew it would be grueling; but until you do it, you just can't imagine climbing from 9,200' in the meadow to 12,500' atop of Hope Pass.
After cresting Hope, I looked down and saw a very rocky stretch of switchbacks that I needed to head down. I was deflated. I don't mind switchbacks, was looking forward to the downhill; but rocky and with a right knee stabbing me every time I stepped down; I was not happy. However, I got to it as fast as I could and gritted my teeth.
This was also the first section where I encountered runners en masse on the return leg. This made the descent good and bad. I was happy for those runners, cheered them on; however, I had to step aside and let them pass so any rhythm I would get into was quickly lost by moving over. But this is also the beauty of Leadville. As I congratulated them, they also cheered me on and congratulated me. Wow. Ultra runners are great.
Getting back into the tree line meant an even steeper downhill section and more pain. By now, my left leg was bothering me with all the extra work I was inflicting upon it. Not good, but not life threatening or too bad too quit -- no bones sticking out!
I hit the dirt road finally and turned right up toward Winfield for the last 2.5 miles. On this stretch, I forced myself into a jog and held it as long as I could before walking and beginning the process again. This, combined with the dust from vehicles going up to Winfield and leaving the aid station was not pleasant. I felt like I was choking on dust and envied those who had something over their noses.
Yes! On the left! I spied Jessica and Robin!! Oh my! Winfield and the 50 mile mark and finally, a pacer! I smile at my crew as I powerhiked past them to the check in and weigh in. Hope Pass took a lot out of me, but thankfully, my weight was still above my check in weight from Friday. 6 pm was the cut-off at Winfield - I made it there at 4:46 pm. Total time elapsed: 12 hours 46 minutes and 43 seconds. The section from Twin Lakes to Winfield took me 4 hours 6 minutes and 55 seconds. Yeah, 10.5 miles in 5 hours ... what a speed demon. But I did it.
I left the aid station, found my crew, brushed my teeth, had my camelback taken from me and felt great! I greeted Chris, my first pacer and great running friend and he said, "Here's the deal." I almost choked on laughter -- that's Chris, always with the plan and always starts it with, Here's the deal!" I was so excited and pumped to finally have someone run with me I felt great -- despite the raw heels with blisters on top of blisters, a stabbing right knee and the back of my left knee hurting. "Let's go Teri," Chris said. Okay. And off we went retracing the steps I just took for the last 50 miles heading into a Colorado evening and night.
The next post will have the next 50 miles ... :)
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