August 21-22, 2010
100 miles
50 left to go!
Winfield to Leadville
Chris and I head down the dirt and gravel road that I just ran walked up leaving Winfield and my pit crew. He is carrying all our water and all my fuel for me. I feel wonderful not having my pockets loaded with stuff; not having my camelback on anymore. Chris has paced 15 other runners at Leadville and he told me before the race not one runners who made it to Winfield on their own failed to finish Leadville with him pacing. Now you know why I wanted him to get me over Hope Pass. Little did I know though that he injured his toe just days before the race. So much so, that he had to slice his running shoe open on top in order to keep the pain at bay. Never said one word the entire day about it until we had crested Hope and were heading down.
On the road I explain to Chris how I am having difficulty running down hill. So we run/walk it down to the best of my ability. The going is a lot slower than either of us anticipated; but we finally see the turn off the road and up the side of the mountain. Once we hit the trail on the left, the steep up hill section into the trees is staring down at me and I take a deep breath as I stare up it. Chris tells me to take the lead and with that, we begin the climb up Hope Pass.
Behind me, Chris keeps up a great thread of advice, tells me when to drink, looks ahead of me and warns me of runners coming down the trail. Now, it is my turn to trudge up and over Hope with other runners moving to the side. Once we make it through the treeline, Chris and I see the switchbacks and he tells me, "piece of cake." Okay Chris, if you say so. I'm not as confident as he is; but he keeps telling me I'm doing great. It is during this stretch on the exposed switchbacks that we see a runner flat on his back almost in the middle of the trail. He has stopped on his way up to Hope Pass and is in visible distress. We ask if we can offer assistance. His pacer is there and tells us his brother has already DNF'd; but this runner thinks he can continue. We all shake our heads and Chris says he'll relay the information to the aid station volunteers at the top and give them a heads up on the runner's status.
We continue on past and as we near the top, Chris says I need to stop and place my foot on the marker. I'm tired, a little out of it; but I do as told as the wind hits me full in the face. Once again the yellow jacket comes on. I put my foot on the marker at the top of Hope Pass, look down and smile. Chris smiles - we've summited Hope Pass, a feat I am proud to that I've done twice today! With that, we head down to Hopeless aid station.
Warm potato soup, a refill of water bottles and we are out of there just as quickly as we came. Chris wants me to run the downhill. He runs with me all the time and he knows how well I do it. I try two times to begin and make it into a painful shuffle. Something Chris doesn't like at all and tells me to powerhike since I'm faster that way. When the pain subsides, I try again; but I do not get too far before I once again have to stop. I'm not worn out; just in a world of hurt and this upsets me. Chris does a great job telling me that I can walk all the way back if I have to and I believe him and feel better.
We hit the meadow as the light fades from the sky and Chris pushes me through it. His goal was to make it to Twin Lakes before dark. Unfortunately this is not going to happen and as I apologize to him I ask him if I can have a flashlight since I can't see the trail anymore. This puts all things in perspective and we continue through the meadow in better spirits as he turns on the flashlight for us.
As we near the town of Twin Lakes, Chris yells out in the darkness for Jess and she responds. Yes! I've made it through the meadow, through the five water crossings again and now I can change my wet shoes for dry ones!
As I cross the road and head into Twin Lakes, I see Zach, one of our USAFA cadets and greet him with a great big smile! Wow! He drove up to Leadville to cheer me as well as a friend of his (a USAFA cadet who finished!) with some other cadets! I motor into the aid station telling Rick I need first aid to take care of my heels before anything. I quickly made my way to the medical staff and took off my shoes and removed the duct tape and mole skin that was applied over 20 miles ago. The first aid guru here says nothing doing. I'm confused and don't understand until I see him take two pieces of duct tape and plaster them right over my blisters -- no padding, nothing, just duct tape on raw, chewed-up skin. Rick must have asked for a bandaid or mole skin. Whew! I was worried there for a minute - when he said "nothing doing," I was afraid he was referring to me continuing. Zach is there and Rick shoves my wet, stinky shoes into his hands and he takes it like a champ while I try as quickly as I can to put the fresh, clean socks and shoes on for the last 39.5 miles of this race.
Unfortunately, my inserts are in those shoes and we have to yell at Zach to bring them back to me. This causes more of delay getting me out of the aid station and F and I are anxious to hit the trail. It is now 16 hours and 48 minutes into the race for me or 8:48 pm. It took me 4 hours 1 minute and 57 seconds to make it from Winfield to Twin Lakes - believe it or not, I did this stretch 5.5 minutes faster on the return than I did on the way out. Way to go Chris!
Finally, dry shoes, dry socks and a good stop overall and F and I step out of the aid station and head up the steep trail to begin our leg in the ever-increasing night. F and his wife Kelly has postponed their trip to Hawaii by one week so he can pace me at Leadville, and I really appreciated it! F and I paced this exact stretch two years ago with Felix and Justin. Both are runners in our ad hoc group out of C-Springs and both finishered in 2008. It was cold, drizzly, and hailed that night but man, what an experience! When the moon peeked out of the clouds through the trees - I fell in love with trail running and knew I had to experience Leadville for myself. I loved that feeling so much - being out in the middle of the night doing something that taxes you to your ultimate limits and still, able to enjoy a beautiful moon.
So naturally, when deciding who should pace me on this stretch, it had to be F. He and I have trained together quite a bit. He asked me to help him train for his first marathon. I asked him to help me train for my first 50 miler. He's a great runner and a great friend; but he's a tad quiet ... usually. Not tonight. Tonight, F kept a steady stream of chatter and kept me focused on the course. I learned about his new car, what they wanted to do in Hawaii, his progress on his master's degree ... all good stuff to keep me awake.
F aslo did a great job picking me up when I was weary after Hope and pushed me in a very gentle; but persistent, fashion. This is the stretch that seemed so wonderful except for leg pain on the way out -- now it was abundantly clear that it was slightly downhill the first time I hit it today. F and I remarked numerous times that we did not remember it being so steep, with so many uphill sections 2 years ago. I am feeling a bit tired now and the pain is almost with me constantly so I take another batch of pain killers.
As the night grew longer and darker, we continued along the trail and finally popped out, almost as a surprise, at the Half Moon aid station. It was lit up with lights; however, it wasn't very visible until almost on top of it due to the terrain. This section took me 2 hours, 26 minutes, 26 seconds and is the first section I lost time on. Chris told me that this would be the first leg I would really be tired on and I was prepared for it -- this Good thing I had built up such a lead on the cut off times on the way out. I am now 19 hours and 14 minutes in the race and I have to make it to Fish Hatchery by 3:00 am. (It is now 11:19 pm). That seems pretty doable; however, the evening is getting colder, I am in constant pain anytime I try to run and I have the horrible exposed road section ahead of me.
All of this is on F's mind and we cruised through the aid station pretty quick -- F didn't even stop for food like he did two years ago and we continued on down to Tree Line and our waiting crew. During this stretch F told me that my crew had a surprise for me when I got there. I could not fathom what it was. However, once we pushed through the trees and saw the pacer vehicles lined up, I could see what F was talking about. Our Ford Ranger was lit up better than a Christmas Tree! Christmas lights are strung from one end to the other and back again! It is such a welcomed sight in the middle of the night! I cannot believe what my family and friends have done to pick my spirits up and get into the spirit of the race! (It was so lit up, that another runner mistook it for the aid station!). F has finished his leg, got me through another stretch and now breaks away for Rick's Dad to pick me up for the next stretch - the four miles along the road in the middle of the night and exposed to to the cold Colorado wind that has kicked up.
Rick's dad, Jim, has trained for this section; almost as long as I have. In his late sixties, Dad is fit and toned and ready to go. We head down the gravel, dirt road and Dad is ready to run. However, once again, I have to sadly tell another pacer how bad my legs are doing but I'll try. I take a couple of stabs at running and it is painfully obvious that I cannot run as fast as I can powerhike. He is good with that and we begin to eat the miles away that way instead. As we hit the road, I tell Dad I need to pee. Okay, we'll find a bush. No, Dad, right now and I pull my shorts down on the side of the road. I think this shocked my father-in-law but he rolled with the punches so well! It was funny, watching him trying to shield me from oncoming headlights while I did my business. I've told a lot of non-runner friends that ultra running is like giving birth, you don't care who see what, you just want to get what needs to be done, done! I was happy that I was so well hydrated that I needed to relieve myself. Relieve myself I did ... three more times on that stretch. I believe I was relieving myself of the excess water-retention.
The night is freezing and I'm getting colder and colder. But we press on and after my other pit stops we make it into Fish Hatchery before the cut-off. This was a very difficult leg due to the freezing temperatures and the wind. I wish I had put more clothes on at Treeline and I am now so cold I am almost shaking.
I'm in the aid station at Fish Hatchery and I'm freezing cold. Whitney throws Josh's blanket over me and I pull it over my head and tuck into myself to warm up. I start mumbling, 'I don't know if I can do this," thinking about Sugarloaf Pass ahead of me. Rick quickly gets my attention and sharply; but simply, states, "Yes, you can." Okay. He's right, I can. Sometimes that's all you need, someone who believes in you to give you a wake up call, or kick in the pants.
During this cold, lonely stretch, I had one runner pass me during and it was a 70 year man! How humbling.
From Half Moon to Fish Hatchery it took me 2 hours 15 minutes and 59 seconds (almost 30 minutes slower than on the way out). It is 21.5 hours into the run. I've covered 76.5 miles and it's about 1:30 am in the middle of the night. However, I've made the cut-off with and hour and a half cushion. As I leave the aid station, I hit a porta-pottie to put my pants on (this takes an extraordinary amount of time) and then continue up the road with my new pacer, Woody, to tackle power line, Sugarloaf Pass, and the fireroad down to May Queen.
Woody is my husband's cousin's husband! I had to say it that way, they're from North Carolina and that's how it's done! Woody is also in phenomenal shape and is a great at motivating. We have the steep, washed-out powerline section to tackle first and he steadily, but gently, pushes me up this with encouraging words and non-stop chatter. I tell you, if you are in the middle of the desert and want someone to convince you are not dying of thirst, Woody is your man!
Sugarloaf is a mean little mountain on the way back due to all the false summits. Every time you think you've crested it; you look up and see the trail of tiny headlamps far ahead of you ... still climbing. But what a neat sight. You look up and see the spots of light and finally, after cresting, you can look down and see them behind and below you. Truly a neat experience, despite all the bad-mouthing that Sugarloaf took that night from us and from all the runners we pass. Yes, my powerhiking is paying off. I am passing runners on the uphill section of Sugarloaf and am just astounded. I passed two runners who beat me at the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty during this leg and cannot believe it. Neither one retook me the rest of the race -- this is what powerhiking can do for you!
Back to the race. Woody and I finally crest Sugarloaf and that windy fireroad that I wanted to run down so badly earlier in the day is there. Unfortunately, I cannot run downhill. I try to take another pain killer and my stomach revolts. This is the first time I cannot swallow anything without gagging and spitting it up. My ability to eat has just flown out the window and I still have over 16 miles left to go.
We powerhike down the fireroad, hit the trail into the woods and I feel like I am slowing rapidly due to the amount of tree roots I have to traverse, along with all the other things taht poke up on the trail in the middle of the night. However, we finally make it to the paved road and I know that soon, this leg will to be over.
As we near the aid station, a total stranger appears on my left and simply states, "You've made it. You can finish now." I tear up and almost cry, it's the first time that it dawns on me that I truly can make it. That I can finish in time, despite my pain and fading strength. This gives me a boost and we pick up the pace into the aid station, powerhiking right by my crazy daughter Jess and Aunt Robin, who, truth be told, are looking mighty fine in mis-matched socks, feather boas, New Year's hats, and now, lighted necklaces!
Fish Hatchery is a welcomed sight and I hear my crew and family cheering us on as I go up to the check-in station. Woody breaks off to let them know how I am doing and I come back down to them and hit the porta-pottie. This last leg took me 3 hours, 40 minutes and 8 seconds. That is almost 1 hour and 20 minutes slower than the way out yesterday morning; however, I'm not complaining and I give all the credit to Woody! I am now 25 hours and 10 minutes into the race -- yes, I've been running for over a solid day now and I still have 13.5 miles left. I have run 86.5 miles and made it into the aid station at 5:10 am -- the cut-off is 6:30 am -- so unbelievably, Woody has pushed me so hard that I have only lost 10 minutes in my padding that I built up yesterday. What a fantastic job Woody did to get me here with that much time in my pocket.
Michelle takes me out of May Queen ready to pace me for the majority of the 13.5 mile stretch into Leadville. She is my husband Rick's cousin and a great person. Michelle is ready and willing to push me to my max and as we head up the road to catch the trail around Turquoise Lake and the waiting sunrise, we are optimistic. Until I crash, physically and almost emotionally.
Chris has told my crew I look good, that I'm strong and not to worry; however, during Michelle's leg, all of the pushing I've done to my legs past the point of pain starts to catch up and I am getting very, very weary. I try to eat, nope, I gag instead. I try to drink and the same thing happens - almost immediately I have to spit it out or risk throwing up. I try to suck on some candy and I can do that for bit before my stomach revolts on that as well. The only thing left to do is shut up, grit my teeth, and push those legs for just 13 more miles. So that's what we do.
I tell Michelle that I feel like I am going fast; however, it is painfully obvious I am not as runners begin to pass me now. As the sun rises across the lake, this is the time I am supposed to get a boost of energy, smell the finish line and go for it; but I cannot. I have nothing left in the tank and I feel the pain more and more and I cannot block it as I have done earlier in the race.
We near the boat ramp and my crew, who has expected me so much earlier, is shocked. This is not the strong Teri they saw just 6 miles ago; this is a whole new animal. Michelle leaves me and I am joined by Josh, my daughter's boyfriend for a few miles. I have no idea what my crew is thinking, I can only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, to try and respond to questions, and continue to grit my teeth. I pump my arms as much as I can, trying to extract energy and motion from other parts of my body and just continue -- to put one foot in front of the other.
We pop off the trail around Turquoise Lake and I only have the boulevard left to traverse to make it to the finish line about 5 miles away. Josh leaves me and Rick is here to take me into town. This has always been the plan and I am ready for him, he's my husband and I wanted him to take me the final part. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. By now, Chris has conferred with Rick and expressed his concerns about me not finishing. He promised to take the final leg if he felt I was in danger of not making it; however, he feels that Rick will have a better shot of getting me to put out in the manner I need to cross the finish line in under 30 hours.
I've lost so much of my padded time; however, no one tells me just how bad it is. As soon as Josh peels off, Rick is right there to push me on, no stop, no hi, how are you, we just continue past everyone and hit the horribly steep trail down to the gravel/dirt road of the boulevard. This is not a trail, it is an access path for telephone poles and I don't remember it from the previous morning. I must have scrambled up it, I know I did; but it is unfamiliar to me and I protest most strongly. Nope, this is it Teri, now get down it.
I look down it and I almost cry. Each step is agony. Each one is accompanied by a grunt of expressed air as I force each of my aching legs to move, one painful step at a time, down this terrible route. Rick is ahead of me all the time, encouraging me using his military command voice. This is not the sweet, nice Rick I am used to; I did not bargain for this and in my wearied state, I ask if he cannot be nice to me. Nothing doing.
Finally, I make it down this section. It is probably only a tenth of a mile but it takes such a toll on my legs that I am barely moving once we hit the road. Rick is now getting me involved emotionally. He tells me to run this mile for Jessica. Jessica, my younger daughter who was diagnosed with Type-1 diabetes last year. Think of all she's had to push through. The next mile is for Whitney, our older daughter, who will be a college senior and has taken time out of her schedule to film me during this. Rick persistenly, and not so gently forces me to continue, to pick up the pace and to try to focus on something other than my own pain.
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| On the Boulevard - focused on just moving. Woody, Chris, Me, Rick |
After what seems like an eternity, we hit the final gravel/dirt road before the streets of town and I look up once again. This time I see Zach ahead of me in a John Deere green shirt! That gives me another great image to focus on and we continue my slow, painful progress into town.
Finally! The streets of Leadville; however, I am demoralized. I hear, almost as soon as I hit pavement, the church bell ring 9 bells. It's 9:00 am and I have less than an hour to finish this race or miss the cut-off. My goal was 26-28 hours and I now know that I will not make it. It was my personal 2nd goal; my final goal of finishing is the only one left -- the only one that truly matters now.
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| My Crew surrounding me for the final mile of Leadville! |
Ten minutes later, I round the corner and hit sixth street. Chris stated if I wasn't here by 9:00 am I would not finish; it's 9:10. Whitney has overheard him and stands up for me stating I always save something for the finish, the final push. What faith my daughter has in me!
I have my head down and I am working as hard as I can to keep the legs moving one in front of the other. IWhen my family sees me. I am pumping my tired arms, not listening to anything until Whitney says, "Mom! Run to that grey building." I look up to the right and see the grey building and I powerhike as fast as I can to it. Once again Whitney's voice is able to pierce my fog "Mom! Look Up!" And I look up and I can see the finish line down the hill and up the final one.
I zone in on that, lock my eyes on the red banner above it and move. Incredibly, I pick up the pace. My mother-in-law is running next to me telling me how proud she is and falls back due to my new found speed. My family shouts encouragement to me as I powerhike the fastest I ever have in my life to that lovely, little tape stretched out in front of me! What a great feeling to break that tape! I have finished the Leadville Trail 100 Mile Run in 29 hours, 20 minutes and 27 seconds.
The last leg, from May Queen to the finish took me 4 hours and 9 minutes compared to the 2 hours and 41 minutes on the way out yesterday. However, I did it! I did it with the help of 15 people in the past two days and countless others throughout the year. Each person who encourageed me during a race; who ran with me, who volunteered at an aid station got me to this place and I thank each and everyone of you!
After the finish, hugs and tears for Rick, Whitney, Jessica, the rest of my family and friends; a finisher medal around my neck, flowers in my hand and a quick trip to the medical tent where I almost pass out from an oxygen depleted body. I can hardly move and am dizzy everytime I stand up. Rick and Robin help me into the back seat of the car where I lay down for the trip back to the RV. I am so light-headed I ask them to go the ceremony without me and pick up my silver buckle for me. Pain infuses my body and I am oh, so tired. But that is only temporary. The sense of accomplishment and all the love that was proven to me throughout the last two days will stay with me forever.
I can now say I am a Leadville Finisher!
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