When I was 16, I had a high school cross-country meet in Leadville. The altitude was no joke, and I had an asthma attack about two miles into the race that left me sitting on the side of the trail for 20 minutes until I could breathe well enough to humbly walk back to the medical tent. Signing up to toe the line at the Leadville Trail 100, was a bit of a redemption tour, 29 years in the making.

From the very first day I started working with my new coach, Andrew Simmons, he stressed, “Leadville is a running race.”  It was my fourth 100-mile race, but with the tight cutoffs and less elevation gain, I couldn’t train the way I had trained for my previous races. Like many ultrarunners, I previously trained with “time on your feet.” My long runs in the build-up for a 100 miler would be 8-10 hour backcountry “runs,” which involved very little actual running. They were beautiful trails, hours spent with friends, lots of climbing, taking photos and occasionally running some downhills. Andrew changed that, and it was tough for two big reasons.

• Long flat boring runs are…boring, and a lot of actual running. I had to embrace these training miles, and I enjoyed a lot of miles with audiobooks and podcasts.
• It was a hard mental shift to trust that the long flat miles, lots of speed and strength work were really going to prepare me for Leadville. More than once, I thought I should be doing way more climbing.

The crowds and cheering at the start line were unreal and I couldn’t help but smile at how awesome it was to see all these people at 4 am sending us off on this adventure. The morning started out with a hiccup, though, due to a low battery on my waistlight. It apparently hadn’t fully charged and was flashing the low power warning the second I turned it on at the start of the race.  Luckily there are more than 600 people with headlamps at the start of the race, so I turned it off and didn’t even turn it back on until we hit the singletrack seven miles into the race. I did have a spare battery in my pack, but I didn’t want to stop to get it out. I was able to run the light on low power and the low light forced me to keep my pace slow until daylight. I got into May Queen 2:30 into the race, which was a very conservative pace and right where I wanted to be. With a fresh battery and fresh legs, I probably would have run this section much faster than planned and paid for it later.

At my previous three 100s, my pinky toes turned into giant blisters and became a very limiting factor. I started wearing toe caps on my pinky toes this year during my long runs and races. They were perfect during the North Fork 50 miler, but 16 miles into Leadville, they wouldn’t stay in place. I’m not sure if it was the high humidity and colder temperatures, but it was definitely frustrating. The left one came off and got painfully wedged under another toe. Then a mile later, the right one came off. I told myself it was worth stopping to get them back in place if it saved me from giant blisters slowing me down later in the race. I stopped four more times between May Queen and Outward Bound and got in 15 minutes later than planned, passing the same people over and over again.

Outward Bound to Twin went pretty well. Somewhere near Pipeline, I finally gave up on the toe caps and hoped for the best. I cruised very comfortably through this flatter runnable section and arrived at Twin at 8:30 into the race, making up 15 minutes and back on my pace chart. My crew was there with dry clothes, and I lathered A&D ointment on my toes. Yes, diaper rash cream. It is a skin barrier protectant, and spoiler alert, it is amazing.

Up until Twin, my nutrition and hydration had been great. I had aimed for 60g carbs per hour, mostly relying on Spring Energy and mashed potatoes, with a few other random snacks to change things up. After Twin, the wheels started coming off the bus.

The storms were moving in, and ever since my brain injury, I am very sensitive to barometric pressure changes. I became extremely fatigued, dizzy and nauseous as the rain was coming down. I wasn’t able to eat enough during this section, and the climb up Hope Pass was 37 minutes slower than planned. I felt awful and honestly hoped I would miss the time cut at Winfield so I didn’t have to go back over a second time.

As I started the descent, the storm passed. The trail was wet, slick, and crowded, but the descent still only took four minutes longer than planned. I took a little extra time at Winfield for foot care and put on a dry shirt. I pushed to 45g carbs every 30 minutes on the climb back up, using Spring Energy Awesomesauce. Descending back to Twin, the trail was still wet and slick, making it slow going over the rocks. I slid several times, which made me slow down even further. I hit the valley floor 1:31 later than planned, but my legs felt solid cruising into Twin, 17:31 into the race. From there, I would be picking up Joann to pace me to May Queen.

After changing into dry clothes, coating my toes in more A&D ointment, and drinking some soupy mashed potatoes, we headed out. The climb out of Twin felt easier than expected. Somewhere near the top of the climb, Joann handed me a Spring Energy Speed Nut. The instant it was in my mouth, I gagged and spit it out. That wasn’t going down. It took a few minutes for the wave of nausea to pass, but then we hit the long gradual descent through Half Pipe to Outward Bound. This was where all those flat boring training miles turned into gold. I still had running legs. I ran the 5.8 miles from Half Pipe to Outward Bound in 1:00 flat. I felt like I was flying as we passed everyone walking this section. I was having intermittent waves of nausea, but I was able to eat mashed potatoes at Half Pipe and sucking on a mint kept things at bay.

We walked across the cow pasture into Outward Bound. It was hard to see all the ruts and holes through the grass, and I didn’t want to take any chances. This also meant by the time I reached the aid station, I was cold, and then I got colder as I sat there drinking my soupy mashed potatoes. I changed into a dry shirt and started shivering hard as we left the aid station with my puffy jacket. It was hard to get moving as everything was seized up and shivering. Even my jaw was locked up. I wanted to run more of the road before the Powerline climb, but I just couldn’t get moving.

Once we started up Powerline, I began to defrost. I was able to take off my puffy coat and was climbing well. The unofficial aid station at the top was crazy, with glow lights, music, and even pot if you wanted it. As soon as we crested the top of the climb, Joann handed me back my coat and I bundled up for the slow descent. In my previous three 100s, the last 30 miles were slow hiking sufferfests, with exhausted legs and horrible blisters. Although the general fatigue was hitting me, and I had a hard time when the terrain was rocky, where it was smooth, I could still run.

We made it to May Queen, where I said goodbye to Joann, and Josh headed out with me for the last stretch to the finish. I had been told by a friend that no one is running by this section, but my body continued to amaze me and I ran all the flat and downhill sections, passing person after person. About four miles to the finish, Josh told me I should eat something. He handed me a Spring Energy Awesomesauce. Like the Speed Nut during the night, the second it hit my mouth I was gagging, but this time, it didn’t stop there. I walked over into the grass and started retching. Josh patted my back as the 10 guys I had just passed walked by, asking if we needed anything. I was finally able to stand up, and within a couple of minutes, we were running again and quickly passed the same group, who all seemed surprised to see me running. I turned to Josh and said, “puke and rally.”

After losing a lot of time during the really rough patch on Hope Pass, I was thrilled to turn things around. I finished in 28:22, 1:22 behind my goal time, but I didn’t care. Amazingly, I  came back from that low point and hit my splits for the last 40 miles, even making up nine minutes and passing 142 people between Twin Lakes and the finish. Who knew I could finish 100 miles feeling that strong? It was so much fun, and I was incredibly thankful for all the flat training miles.

Leadville is an iconic race, and I can see why. The energy of the volunteers, the crowds at the aid stations, the endless ringing of cowbells, and Ken and Merilee waiting at the finish with a hug all add to the experience. From a brain injury standpoint, Leadville would have been a nightmare for me prior to this year. The lights, crowds, and noise would have been far too much to be enjoyable, and I’m thankful my recovery has brought me this far.

Training for and running 100 miles demands an excessive amount of time and requires a village of support. I want to thank my village. I owe a lot of thanks to my pacer Joann, for your high energy and for keeping me moving from Twin Lakes to May Queen. To Kristi, for all your company during long training runs and speed work that you didn’t need to do. To my coach Andrew Simmons, for putting up with me while I questioned the process. To Hannah and Marco for loaning me your recovery compression boots this whole summer. To Dr. Michael Morrison with RedHammer Rehab for coming in early to squeeze me in when my body fell apart and I was so painful I could hardly walk the week before the race; you are magic. To my brother Andy for staying up all night crewing. To my mom, for all the amazing food you made for my crew and pacers. To my brother Brian for surprising me near the finish. To Ellen for coming up to cheer and for suggesting I sign up for Cocodona 250 miler next. To my husband Josh, for absolutely everything. For quarantining after travel to keep me healthy. For driving me up to higher elevations to train. For crewing and pacing. For the incredible level of support and encouragement, you give on a daily basis. This could never happen without you, and I am so lucky to have you by my side. And thank you for unapologetically saying no to Cocodona 250.

With my fourth TBI to 100 all wrapped up, I’ve been asked more than once – so what is next? My seven-year “Crashiversary” is in a few days, and we have a fancy dinner out to celebrate. Beyond that, I don’t have anything on my agenda for a while other than couch time and stuffing my face with food. I look forward to a fall with some fun mountain runs, maybe a little camping, catching up on my social life, and maybe I’ll even get out on the bike. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already scheming about the next adventure, though, so I’ll be back at it soon.

If you are considering trying to get into the Leadville 100, read on:

I’m glad I got to experience this race, but (and this may be a very unpopular opinion) I still don’t understand why people come back year after year when there are so many amazing races out there. I have done Run Rabbit Run 100 twice, but only because they changed the course, and I wanted to see the new course. The Leadville 100 course itself is actually much easier than the previous 100s I’ve done, the cutoffs make it challenging, and you have to train to actually run. If you put all your energy into high-altitude climbing/hiking, that won’t work.

If you are looking to finish your first 100, there are a lot of options with much more generous time cutoffs. Maybe the smaller races don’t have the same energy or allure, but the size allows for more personal touches – homemade baked goods, different foods at every aid station, being the only runner at the aid station with 3 volunteers helping you, and having the solitude to stop during the pitch black night and stare up at the stars. This race was massive compared to my previous 100s. I was never alone on the trail. For good and for bad, there were always other runners nearby, always other headlamps during the night. Contrast that to my previous 100s, where I often found myself alone for hours, which admittedly makes it easier when you need to pee. If you want the buzz, the spectacle, go for it. If you enjoy quiet solitude, then maybe consider a different option. We all seek a different race experience, and whatever that experience is, there is a race to fill it. Happy trails!

 

*Left photo is after the race, and the right one is before.