18 August 2019

The Last Great Race (Part 5) - 2019 Leadville 100 Mile Trail Run

View of "backside" of Hope Pass.

Time flies, when you're having fun. The Leadville 100 crept up on me at record speed. While its cumulative elevation gain isn't any more intimidating then the other races I'd already run this summer, it's its altitude that it definitely intimidating. The majority of the Leadville 100 is run between altitudes of 9500' and 12500' and it's exactly this fact that has pushed runners of all abilities to their limits. Past results have shown that more than half of the 800+ starters are usually unable to finish this race and this year would prove to be no different. I did not want to be part of this particular statistic, so I decided to come out 10 days early to try to acclimate to the altitude. I had seen too many friends struggle with the altitude in years past and I wanted to give me the best chance possible to complete this race and continue on in my quest to complete "The Last Great Race" of Ultrarunning.

Friend and fellow Huntsvillian Jerry Abbott also got into the Leadville 100 and had the same plans as me, get there early and acclimate. A friend of his was kind enough to let us stay in his massive camper, so we set up permanent camp at May Queen campground on Turquoise Lake about 25 minutes outside Leadville, CO, where the actual race would start and finish.

View from the outbound Powerline Climb.

My plan was simple, stay at high altitude for 10 days leading up to the race and hike/run a couple of 14ers in an effort to adjust to the thinner air and to avoid altitude sickness and anything else that comes with running at high altitude when you live at 650'. I kept an eye on my resting heartrate and as expected and hoped, it started 10 beats higher than usual and came down 10 beats after having stayed at 10000' for about a week.

I only struggled with the altitude during our climb up Mount Massive, when I developed a headache as we approached the summit. Luckily, it has subsided by the next morning with a little help from Mr. BC Powder. The time leading up to race day was both pretty uneventful (as I experienced no mayor physical issues) and exciting (how can it not be when you're surrounded by 14000' mountain peaks all around you). This place is nothing short of amazing and I was stoked to be here once again. As race day got closer and closer, I got more and more nervous. However, there was one thing that happened that actually refocused my nervous energy for a day. The weekend prior to the Leadville 100, friends of mine arranged an opportunity for me to check another item off my bucket list. I never expected to ever do this, but sometimes things just work out and on Sunday morning, bright and early, I lined up at a temporary pin in downtown Buena Vista, CO to meet my donkey "Buddy" so we could run the Gold Rush Days Pack Burro Race 13 Miler. I have never had so much fun and frustration in the span of 3 hours:-)

As we entered race week, I started to finalize my race plans. I felt confident that I had acclimated sufficiently, so that altitude sickness and its common symptoms would not plaque me during the race, not even during the Hope Pass crossing. While I was correct on that account, one remaining factor definitely affected me on race day, but more about that later.

Initial view of Twin Lakes.

Both my excitement and nervousness rose exponentially as race week progressed. The town of Leadville slowly filled with runners and crew and it became more and more difficult to get a cup of coffee in a timely manner at the local coffee shop. But as well all know, waiting for a good cup of coffee is almost always worth the wait. I mostly spent race week keeping my feet up and being lazy. I felt rest was more important than any more activities.

Twin Lakes.

When the mandatory pre-race briefing finally rolled around on Friday morning, I was ready to go. Jerry and I made sure to cut out just in time to be first in line at the expo at 11AM sharp to pick up our race packets and check out the extensive number of shops that lined the expo grounds. When you're an ultra runner, it was also extremely difficult not be let the fan boy all hang out. Clare Gallagher, Magda Boulet, Anton Krupicka and David Goggins were just some of the folks one would run across before, during and after the race.

Twin Lakes.

After meeting up with friends and fellow runners, I quickly left the expo and headed back to the camper. The plan was to eat dinner by 5PM and to hit the sack early enough to get some sleep before the 2AM wakeup call.

As expected, I didn't manage much sleep. While I did call it a night pretty quickly after Jerry's wife Wonda prepared a delicious carb loading pasta dinner, I just could not get my mind to quiet. So I laid there restlessly until it as time to get up. Thankfully, I got a full night sleep a night earlier, as I usually expect to have the pre-race jitters and plan accordingly:-)

Descent into Twin Lakes Aid Station.

On race morning, all that was left to do was tape my feet, grab all of my gear and decide what layers to wear for the 38 degree 4AM start. The energy at the race start was electric and something that reminded me of the high energy at European ultra races. I managed to snap the obligatory pre-race photo with Sean, the only other "Last Great Racer", but when Ken Chlouber finally shot the shotgun to signal the race start, I was pretty much on my own, meaning I saw no familiar faces running near me. In fact, I wouldn't see another familiar runner until after the 50 mile turnaround point of the out and back course.

Twin Lakes to Hope Pass section.

While I ran the first 13 miles until May Queen aid station exactly as planned (to hit the sub 25 hour goal), I realized very quickly that something was off. Running downhill should not feel so hard. Next up was the powerline climb. I settled into a decent hiking ace as we continued to climb. By the time we got to the top, I was ready to let lose on the downhill. My quads had no problems handling the descent, so I made up some decent time. By the time I finally arrived at the Outward Bound aid station, I was moving a lot slower than expected. I wouldn't fare much better during the next section to the Half Pipe aid station. What was meant to be flat easy running turned into something closer to a death march. WTF, I was only 25 miles into this thing and already unable to run? My heartrate was severely spiking into the high 150s even though i was barely running 10-11 minute miles. Rather than run entirely by feel, I decided to start monitoring my heartrate. I would start walking as soon as I hit 150s and continue to walk until it lowered to 130s. I'd start running until I hit the 150s and once again start walking, and on and on.

Creek crossing after Twin Lakes before heading up Hope Pass.

I now figured I'd hike the uphills briskly and run the downhills as fast as possible to try to make up time somehow. I maintained this strategy until the 50 mile turnaround. Rewind to mile 38. I was rolling into the Twin Lakes aid station for the first time. If my spirits were low, I don't remember it, because the energy in this aid station made me forget all that. So many spectators and crew lining the path, the energy was contagious.

The largest of many creek crossings after Twin Lakes.

I decided to take my time in aid stations to allow as much recovery as possible before continuing on. I was thankful for my crew Ashley Saloga and pacer Brian Metzler for taking care of me all day and all night. They provided the boost and support I needed to keep going when thing started to get difficult. I left Twin Lakes feeling refreshed and ready to take on Hope Pass for the first time. I settled into a steady hiking pass, but as I got closer to the top, I was finally passed by a couple of other runners as I struggled to get sufficient oxygen into my lungs.

Looking down from below Hope Pass.

Once I reached Hope Pass aid station, I was ready to hit the rest button once more. A bowl of broth and some mashed potatoes later, I was on my way to start the final climb across the pass before descending 5 miles into Winfield aid station, the halfway and turnaround point for the Leadville 100.

Approaching Hope Pass Aid Station.

Once again, I was glad to see me crew and even happier to finally pick up my pacer to drag my ass across Hope Pass once more. After some time to refuel and rest, Brian and I started the climb back out of Winfield to cross Hope Pass once more. It had taken me 11:30 hours to cover the first 50 miles, which meant that I was still on track to break 25 hours. I would reassess that goal in another 2 miles, when I would arrive at Twin Lakes once again 62 miles into the race.

Looking back from Hope Pass Aid Station.

The second climb across the pass was way more difficult than the first. I had slowed significantly, even with Brian doing a fantastic job to keep me moving. By the time we finally made my way over the pass, in and out of Hope Pass aid station the second time and back to Twin Lakes aid station, I had lost more than 40 minutes and the sub 25 hour goal was no longer a reality. After a short pow wow with my crew and pacer, I made my peace with it.

Lamas grazing after having carried all supplies to the Hope Pass Aid Station.

However, knowing that I would not break 25 hours also affected how I felt physically and mentally. My motivation to move was just a bit lower than before. Before I knew it, I had fallen in with another runner and his pacer as we made our way through the early stages of the night. This was a tremendous help for me as I started to get sleepy. A lively conversation between the three of us kept me engaged and more importantly, awake. The other runner had sustained a hip injury, so we spent the next 16 miles almost exclusively walking. I was completely fine with that.

Lamas grazing after delivering supplies.

By mile 78, Brian would be pick me back up to take me over the powerline section one last time and all the way to the finish. He was a trooper as I was no longer either capable or motivated to run. Every time we'd try to shuffle or resemble any running motion, my breathing would accelerate and become labored and I'd slow down again. Temps had now dropped into the 30s and I was wearing a puffer and gloves to stay warm. But we continued on, one step in front of another.

View of Twin Lakes from Hope Pass.

I can't say it was easy, but it wasn't painful either. It just took a bit longer than I had hoped. By the time Brian and I turned onto the final .7 mile stretch leading to the finish, I was ready to be done. With the finish line in sight, I was able to break into a slow shuffle. I crossed the finish line in 28 hours and 10 minutes, happy to be one of the 44% of finishers to have completed the Leadville 100 this year and to be one step closer to completing "The Last Great Race".

Looking back while climbing Hope Pass the first time.

Thanks to Ashley Saloga and Brian Metzler for being my crew/pacer for this adventure and for pulling me through. I couldn't have done it without you guys. Thanks also to the entire crew of volunteers that took care of us along the way. The Leadville 100 was quite the memorable experience. The altitude is no joke and I now understand the consistently low finisher rates. Three more weeks and it's time for the last race in the series, The Wasatch Front 100.

Fellow runners climbing Hope Pass the first time around.

Train of runners approaching the top of Hope Pass.

Small snow bank atop Hope Pass.

Looking back towards Hope Pass Aid Station.

Nepalese prayer flags marking the top of Hope Pass.

Looking down the backside of Hope Pass prior to descending towards Winfield Aid Station, the 50 mile turnaround point.

Descending towards Winfield from Hope Pass.

Steep single track leading down from Hope Pass towards Winfield.

Small boulder field en route to Winfield Aid Station.

Nice single track before the steep descent to Winfield Aid Station.

Headed down the Powerline section early in the race.

Finishing this beast with the support and pacing of Brian Metzler.

Posted by Ultra Kraut in Leadville, Leadville 100, LT100, Race Reports, The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning, The Last Great Race, Trail Running, Ultra Running, Western Slam

The Last Great Race (Part 4) - 2019 Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run

The majestic San Gabriel Mountains.

The Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run is one of the six oldest 100 mile races in the US and the fourth of six races in "The Last Great Race" challenge. It has been held since 1986 and after some slight course modifications now runs point to point from Wrightwood, CA to Altadena, CA. It utilizes part of the Pacific Crest Trail, nearly summits Mount Baden-Powell and runs through the San Gabriel Mountains and Angeles National Forest among other beautiful areas. This year saw the highest number of finishers ever, but that does not reflect the difficulty and conditions this course threw at runners this year. In fact, my slight anxiety leading up to this race proved to be warranted to some degree, but more about that later.

When you're running six 100 milers in the span of 14 weeks, you need to be be very frugal with your paid vacation time, so for Angeles Crest, I booked a flight arriving Friday morning and leaving Monday morning. Unfortunately, two things happened that altered my plans a little bit. First, I found out after booking my flights that I had to drop off my drop bags by 11AM Friday morning, which would prove impossible with a 10AM arrival time at Ontario airport. Second, my fall back solution not using drop bags at all fell through as well. Since a friend had committed to crewing/pacing me, I figured I could reply on him and skip the drop bags altogether. However, a new job with new commitments meant that he had to drop as my crew. I now had to scramble to come up with a fallback plan. While I could've easily run without drop bags and just fed at the aid stations, following a 100% plant based diet means that you (rightfully) cannot depend on aid stations to cater to your special needs. As such, my only option would have been to carry 2 lbs of vegan gels from start to finish. Thankfully, I figured out another alternative and with the help of friends, I was able to use drop bags afterall. I decided to back all drop bags the Saturday before race week and send them via USPS to my fellow "Last Great Racer" Sean and his wife Jenny, who graciously agreed to take my drop bags to the race. That took a lot of stress of my mind and allowed my to focus on my race plan.

Since I fully expected this race to be the toughest so far this summer, I was much more conservative with my race plan and strategy. Sub 24 was off the table, especially now that I did not have the luxury of a crew and/or pacer to keep me moving swiftly. Since I would not have a crew or pacer, I also switched to the SOLO runner division, which come with a few support perks as well as a special SOLO runner buckle. However, I still felt the second sunrise buckle was a possibility if all things came together perfectly. Well, they didn't and to be honest, it wasn't a surprise to me. If there is one thing that is certain, there will always be problems to be solved during a 100 miler and this one was no different. In fact, it presented a whole new challenge I'd never encountered before.

My arrival at Ontario airport as well as the rental car pickup and 1 hour drive to Wrightwood went pretty smoothly. I arrived in Wrightwood around 12PM on Friday with plenty of time to check in and scan the crowd for familiar faces. Familiar faces were slim pickin's for me, since this was a west coast race. However, Sean and Jenny had arrived earlier and I met up with them for a quick lunch at a local diner serving vegan burgers...score! After, I headed to my hotel to check in and to do some work before heading back to race HQ for the mandatory pre-race briefing. My stoke level continued to rise as we got closer to race morning.

For dinner, we located another spot with a full vegan menu in Hesperia, the location of our hotels a short 28 minute drive from the race start. After dinner and a couple of good laughs about the restaurant's dress code prominently displayed outside, we went our ways to get back to the hotel to get our race kit ready and to catch some Zs.

Pre-race night did not go well. I slept maybe 3 hours, but I didn't let that get me down. It's happened before and it's just something outside my control. My alarm went off at 3:20AM, giving me 40 minutes to tape my feet, get my race kit on, drink some coffee and take care of business before making the drive to the race start. Parking was slightly problematic once I got back to Wrightwood, a sleepy little mountain town that usually does not have 250+ runners and crew congregate in its center of town. Eventually, I found a spot on a side street, got my pack and headed to the race start to make sure I got checked in. Being a solo runner meant I'd have to leave my car at the start and figure out how to get back after the finish, since this was a point to point race, but I decided to worry about that once I crossed the finish line:-)

The level of excitement was high at the starting line. Because the RD crew implemented a new waitlist system, many more runners were able to toe the line than in previous years. This also resulted in the highest finisher rate in the history of the race. It did not, however, result in larger numbers accomplishing a sub 24 hour or sub 25 hour buckle:-)

When one of the race leaders (Gary?) signaled the start, I had lined up somewhere at the backend of the top third of runners. We would climb straight out of town and I had no desire to push early. The Angeles Crest 100 has anywhere between 20,000-22,000' of climbing and 25,000' of descending, so there was no reason to burn myself out early. With a larger field it also took longer than expected to run alone, i.e. it is often difficult not to run/hike someone else's pace when there are runners in front of you and behind you. Eventually, I managed to settle into a sustainable pace, or so I thought.

Since I was a solo runner and I needed my phone at the finish to call an Uber to get me back to my car, I decided I would carry it instead of my GoPro and take photos that way, instead. It's how I'd taken photos for most of the races over the last few years, so it was nothing new. I am sure glad I did have something to take pictures with, because this course was way more scenic than I could have imagined. Distant views of the Mohave desert, the lights and skyline of the city of angels and lots of mountain and ridge line views had me stopping more than usual to take it all in and capture it on (digital) film.

The first few miles were pretty challenging but otherwise uneventful. The first major challenge presented to runners was a 13 mile section between aid stations that included a climb to the top (almost) of Mount Baden Powell. I carried 4 soft flasks for this section and I needed every bit of it. Even a "light" altitute of 9200' proved challenging to me, causing severe dry mouth. Along with the dusty dry air and the challenging climb it required that I drink lots and lots of fluids for the entire climb and beyond. In fact, I still ran out of fluids about two miles from the next aid station.

I dropped the fourth soft flask in one of my drop bags and kept the third one in the back of my pack and I'm glad I did. There were about 3 more 9 mile sections without aid and temperatures had continuously ramped up, even if some folks mentioned that it wasn't quite as hot as last year. You could've fooled me! After Vermont 100 2 weeks earlier, I was sure I was ready for any heat. In fact, I even told myself how well I was dealing with the heat. I regretted these thoughts about 50 miles into the race. Until that point, I had been hot but I'd been able to manage it with ice filled buffs around my neck and drinking plenty of fluids and staying on top of my nutrition.

However, at mile 50 just 1 mile from the next aid station, the wheels came off. Actually, it was more of an implosion or complete breakdown. My body suddenly reacted badly to the heat. During the final 0.5 mile climb to the aid station, I actually had to stop and just try to collect myself. I was doing a system check and I knew I'd have to take a serious break once I got to the aid staion. When I arrived, I collapsed into a chair. I was completely lucid, but my body was not playing along. I sat in the shade for a while unable to really eat anything. Medical started to assist me along with super helpful volunteers and eventually, we decided that I should lay down completely and prop my legs up. Shortly after arriving at the checkpoint, I had started shaking and shivering uncontrollably. More importantly, I was unable to control my breathing at all. It was short and shallow, both not good signs of my current state.

I had rolled into the aid station in 12 hours flat, so I knew I had plenty of time to continue, loads of time. But I still needed to figure out how to get those issues resolved. It took nearly 90 minutes of laying down for the shaking, shivering and shallow breathing to subside. In those 90 minutes, there were a few moments where I questioned whether medical would let me continue and more importantly, I wasn't sure my body actually could continue. Mentally, I was 100%, physically, it looked bad. The medical crew checked my vitals including blood oxygenation and were able to confirm that all looked to be at normal levels. Now I just needed to actually feel better. I slowly rose from the dead and after a 90 minute delay I was finally back on my feet, eating a couple of Avocado tortillas and drinking loads of Gatorade and Pedialyte provided to me by medical.

Just as I was about to head out for another 9 mile section in the hottest canyon on the course, fellow Huntsvillian Rob Youngren rolled into the aid station. We both decided that a bit of company may be a good idea for this next long stretch and with the night section coming up. Rather than continue solo after that, we both stuck it out together and ran the final 49 miles together. Yup, I did manage to finish this thing and while there were certainly more frustrating moments through the night and the usual moments of sleepiness between 2 and 4AM, both Rob and I stayed pretty relaxed. We knew we wouldn't be breaking any speed records today, so the goal was to do as little damage as possible:-) If we could manage a sub 30 hour finish with our conservative approach, all the better, but it wasn't an actual goal, more of a nice though for me to keep me engaged and not walk the final miles.

However, our slowdown also meant that we would be running in some of the heat of the next day. Thankfully, the last major aid station was giving away some nifty ice bandanas to the first lucky runenrs to snag one up before they ran out. That really helped keep us cool for the final miles. When it was all said and done, Rob and I crossed the finish line in 29 hours and 33 minutes, earning our deserved solo buckles.

I cannot finish this race report without mentioning the amazing race staff and volunteers, from the RDs, to the aid station workers (especially them) and the medical crew. I have never seen such attentive aid station volunteers, not even at Western States. Maybe it felt that way because I needed them way more than ever before, but these folks are on par with both Western States and Hardrock. I always had a minimum of one volunteer cater to my every need while in an aid station. The ration was always 1 volunteer to one runner and sometimes even a 3:1 ratio. Absolutely amazing and I'm pretty sure I would not have finish this thing without there help considering my poor physical state at mile 51. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

If this classic is not on your bucket list, you are doing yourself a disservice. It is one of the granddaddies of them all and it shows in both the amazing course (see for yourself) and in the tireless volunteer staff. For me, it's now on to Leadville, CO to try to acclimate for the Leadville 100, the fifth of six races this summer, to inch closer to my completion of "The Last Great Race", the "Grand Slam of Ultrarunning" and the "Western Slam".