Leadville 100 (not)

I went into this race feeling cocky. You see I had a few 100's under my belt. I figured I'd just knock another one out and round out my year. No problem.

This attitude earned me my first DNF (did not finish). Very humbling. I keep the race bib on my shelf where the buckle should be. With a thick black Sharpie, across the front of the bib, I wrote DNF, just to remind me of my cockiness.

In fairness to yours truly, the weather was pretty rough. The Pikes Peak Marathon was stopped the same day due to weather. We had lightning that seemed to hit the heels of your feet. This was the kind of electrical storm that makes the hairs stand up on your arms. I actually ran off-course for a while just to avoid running under power lines which buzzed like a nest of a million angry bees. We also had rain, sleet, hail, snow and wind. In between, there was beautiful mountain sunshine that lifted the spirits momentarily. Momentarily, literally……. then SMACK! you get hit again with the whole cycle of hail, rain, wind and sleet. Rough.

I also started with a sore throat and aches.....and my dog ate my homework.

Self portrait of a wet start. Cocky.

There was more road than I had expected. I very much prefer single track over road.

Climb to Hope pass. Single track.

High camp at Hope pass.

This is how they deliver gear to the high aid station.

Amazing views above tree line.

Prayer flags offer no help to the DNF'rs.

Me at Hope Pass. Silly SOB still has no idea he won't finish. Still cocky.

Down Hope pass.

Meadows at Twin Lakes

Back up again after the Winfield turn.

After going up and over Hope Pass twice, I arrive at the 65 mile aid station with little buffer to the dreaded cutoff. In all actuality, I could have made it. I had roughly 12-hours to do thirty of the easier miles of the race. I could have walked much of it in and still made it.

The funny part - backing up a bit. For the last twenty or so miles, I ran on and off with Allen. Allen is really cool guy from Kansas I had met previously at other races. Coming down Hope I managed to get ahead of Allen. I wasn’t sure Allen was going to make the cutoff. This got me thinking that his family would be at the next aid station if he didn’t get in under the wire. His family owned a car. This car was warm and would be going back to Leadville. Leadville is where my sleeping bag was. It was warm too. These are the wrong things to think about at mile 65 of a cold, wet, mountain 100.

So I grab some food and leave the aid station at 10:00pm. I start my long climb, eating. The sleet starts again. Then the lightning. Then the really loud thunder that booms simultaneously with the lighting. Then more.

Then I see this headlamp coming down the mountain, the wrong way. Then another headlamp, again coming down rather than going up the mountain. Then a third. I ask this third rain spattered headlamp "where are you is going". The headlamp gets closer. It looks directly into my headlamp and it says in this dejected, tired, strained but loud voice…….“F THIS!”. Only this headlamp didn’t actually say “F”. It said the whole bad word. The headlamp then abruptly took off down the mountain, chased by the lighting and thunder. At that moment it dawned on me with crystalline clarity “yeah, F this!” Only I didn’t think in the abbreviated sense either. I stood there for only a moment thinking “Why in the world didn't I think of that? That is the single best idea I have heard all year!” And, just like that, I turned around and followed that third headlamp down the mountain, back to the 65 mile aid station. I simply walked in to the aid station, held out my wrist and the nice lady deftly cut off my wrist band with a pair of children's scissors. She was good. She had been practicing this for hours. She had many more to do before the night was done.

A smiling DNF with Allen from Kansas. Misery loves company.

Photo of the same mountains we ran, the following morning.

When I got back to Leadville, I climbed into my warm sleeping bag convinced I had done the right thing in bailing. The next morning, I decided to hang out at the finish line. This is where I saw some very weary, yet familiar, looking souls finish the Leadville 100. All I could think then was “I was running with this guy or that girl last night. If he or she could do this, I could have”. There was one major difference between me and them. They did it. I didn’t. They have buckles and memories of hard earned finishes. I have my DNF to look at on my shelf.

I’m officially humbled. Have to go back.