2011 Leadville 100: Running Sucks

When I first saw a dude wearing a 'Running Sucks' shirt last month, I instantly knew I had to get my hands on one, and that it would definitely get some face time at Leadville this year. Thinking about the words on that shirt around mile 93 (as I layed in the fetal position on a concrete boat ramp shivering uncontrollably) was about the only thing remotely humorous to me over the last 8 hours of this year's Leadville 100... talk about understatement of the decade, Nike. Finally, after 21+ hours on the trail it was over. 21:21, 19th overall.

On a positive note, I successfully picked 7 of the top-10 runners at last weekend's race. Congrats to all my fellow Colorado runners and friends who made this top pack, especially Ryan Burch, who has been overdue for a killer 100-miler for a long time. On a slightly less positive note, I was one of the 3 incorrect guesses, as was my buddy, Dan.

For those of you with ADHD, that was the condensed version. For a slightly more elaborate race recap, keep reading...

Here's how it all went down:

Pre-Race

Thursday was travel, campsite setup, and picture taking day. Friday consisted of the now infamous Ken Chlouber pre-race pep rally, the arrival of the rest of Team GU Demon (the shirt pictured below should explain the name nicely), and a pre-drive to the Mayqueen Aid Station in order to get everyone's bearings.



(Pretty self explanatory shirt design.)

After a little bit of campsite relaxing and an early dinner, it was time for me to pre-tape my feet and call it an early night. 5 restless hours later, the moment I'd been waiting 364 days for had arrived.



Start to Mayqueen

Rather than having defined splits that I wanted to chase in order to bag a sub-19 hour finish, I decided to write all of last year's splits on my arm and use these as a benchmark of how I was doing throughout the day. I like this strategy since it allows me to focus more on how I feel (legs, lungs, stomach), rather than chasing numbers which can be both unforgiving and unattainable at various points in a 100 mile race as fatigue sets in.



(Team GU Demon)

After the shotgun blast went off, I quickly settled into an easy, relaxed pace and prepared to find my rythym for what are by far the easiest miles of the entire race. Without overly exerting myself, I found myself leading after about a mile, and there I would stay all the way into Mayqueen. I do not regret this decision, nor do I think I went out too fast. I was conversing with Michael Arnstein the entire time, and never once lost my breath or felt any leg fatigue, so why in the world would I have gone slower? In the two weeks leading up to the race, I had run almost zilch in order to nurse some nagging foot pains, so it felt easy and relaxed to run the first half marathon in 1:42.


2011 Mayqueen Aid Station (13 Miles): 1:42

2010 Mayqueen Aid Station: 1:48

2009 Mayqueen Aid Station: 1:56

Mayqueen to Fish Hatchery

As I headed into the first real climb of the day, I decided to back off on the pace a little and allow myself to fall into a position near where I hoped to finish (7th to 10th, roughly). I also experience a psychological boost from passing people late in a race, rather than starting off hot and fading. This being said, I still managed to crest the summit of Sugarloaf (11,000ft +) about 14 minutes ahead of last year's time, no worse for wear. Little did I know, life was about to change abruptly.

I had already taken two poo breaks by the time I began descending the powerlines, which is par for the course. What I hadn't anticipated was the nausea that was about to set in as soon as I hit the bottom of the last descent. With a photographer straight ahead, I decided to duck into the trees to puke my guts out as I didn't want to show weakness this early into the race. Once done, I seemed to feel 100x better, shook it off, and resumed running the short stretch of road into the Fish Hatchery, where I took a 5 minute pit stop to replenish as much as possible after my recent GU exorcism. I proceeded to lose several positions due to this long pit stop.

(Fish Hatchery)

2011 Fish Hatchery Aid Station (Mile 24): 3:24
2010 Fish Hatchery Aid Station: 3:38
2009 Fish Hatchery Aid Station: 3:55

Fish Hatchery to Twin Lakes
I felt extremely good after refueling at Fish, and continued feeling that way most of this stretch. Other than a couple more dumps in the woods, I was clicking off consistent miles and didn't walk a step, other than to fumble with a GU, salt, or the iPod. I made up several more positions along here, and bettered my time to Twin Lakes by nearly 20 minutes compared to last year. Nausea gone. No cramps. No falls. Only minor blisters. Sub-19, here I come. 
 
2011 Twin Lakes Aid Station (Mile 40): 5:55
2010 Twin Lakes Aid Station: 6:13
2009 Twin Lakes Aid Station: 7:04

Twin Lakes to Winfield
As I approached the crux of the race course, I performed a self diagnostic and found myself doing surprisingly well. While tired, my legs were still able to churn, and I found myself employing a walk-run-repeat strategy for a good part of the climb up Hope. As always, it seemed like an eternity before I broke out of the trees and got a glimpse ahead to the summit, but eventually I was at the Hopeless Aid Station hanging out with the llamas. I only needed water here, and was quickly back on the trail in hot pursuit of Charles Corfield who was just a couple switchbacks ahead.

I reached the summit around 11:30am (7 hours 30 minutes) and began descending after a short break to catch my breath. Besides another bathroom break about halfway down the mountain, I descended uneventfully, and hit the 2.5 mile gravel treadmill of death into Winfield. This year I was at the base of the trail before I ran into the leader, which told me I was either faster than ever, or the competition was slower than ever. (After seeing how the results panned out, it was definitely the first option.)

Some time was lost on this section due to the blistering heat and sun exposure, and I was forced to walk close to 1/2 mile of it. Regardless, I was still on a nice PR pace as I cruised into the halfway point.
50 down. 50 to go.

2011 Winfield (50 Miles): 8:42
2010 Winfield: 8:55
2009 Winfield: 10:02
 
Winfield to Twin Lakes
Ahead of pace? Check. Best friend and pacer by my side? Check. What could possibly go wrong?
The answer to that question is nothing... for a while, least.

The backside of Hope pass was predictably hard as always, and the fact that it felt like it was 110 degrees out didn't help the cause. Either way, Andy kept coaxing me along, even if it was just barely one foot in front of the other, and we slowly neared the summit. Seeing lots of familiar faces and well wishers provided a much needed distraction from the arduous task of climbing 3000+ ft, but I was hardly in the mood for pleasantries - I was ready for this sufferfest to be over.



(It was all downhill from here... literally and metaphorically speaking.)

After cresting the summit, I finally started to feel bad. Really bad... and I'm not talking about '55 miles into a hard 100-miler' bad. I'm talking, 'internal organs and brain not functioning properly' bad. I had to sit and drink some fluids at Hopeless, and also pulled the socks for a second to tend to some blisters. Now that I had some fresh contents in my stomach, the real hell could officially begin...

About 2 miles from Twin Lakes, I began my unending cycle of 'puke-recover-repeat' which would last for the next 10 hours. I had a bad blister that needed to be tended to when we finally arrived in Twin, but this would be the least of my worries over the next 40 miles.
 
2011 Twin Lakes #2 (Mile 60): 11:33
2010 Twin Lakes #2: 11:52
2009 Twin Lakes #2: 13:32

Twin Lakes to Fish Hatchery
I had bad diarhea during this stretch of trail and brought my total bowel movement count to 9. More puking ensued, and I finally started to feel sorry for myself and go into pity-party mode. I've been there before and know that it gets a guy nowhere, so I tried to just suck it up as much as possible. Around mile 65 we had a cold rain to contend with on top of everything else. Again though, I know 100-milers are supposed to suck and just tried to keep going as fast as possible. Despite a long break at the Half Pipe aid station and another at the Pipeline crew access point (where I wanted nothing more than to cry like a little kid), I was still making record time! I didn't care... but this just served to reaffirm that I'm a stronger runner this year than in 2010 - despite the disaster I was enduring.

2011 Fish Hatchery #2 (Mile 76): 14:42
2010 Fish Hatchery #2: 14:56

Fish Hatchery to the Finish
I wasn't doing well upon arrival at Fish. Here I needed to sit for over 10 minutes and warm up and have another mini pity-party. I was just so thankful for my friends and family being there and wanted to remind all of them how grateful I was for them. This was followed by apologizing profusely for the disasterous next 24 miles I was sure to have. I had so wanted to impress everyone with a PR and a great placement, and here I had to kiss that goodbye. Sometimes the mind is willing, but the body is weak.

Andy and I eventually hit the road again and as soon as I hit gravel I needed to hit the trees again for my final bowel movement of the day. I felt good for less than 15 minutes and soon was laying on the ground in the middle of the trail begging Andy for a 10 minute nap. I didn't know exactly what was wrong with me, just that I internally, and mentally wasn't right. I knew my salt balance was off to some degree, but I was experiencing a feeling I couldn't put my finger on.

It was like being drunk, sleep deprived, and having the flu... all at the same time.

Hiking resumed at a snail's pace and somehow we were up and over Sugarloaf in the daylight. Surprisingly, I was actually STILL ahead of last years time by the time we hit Hagerman Road. Unfortunately, with recurring vomitting throughout this stretch, I was mostly reduced to a slow downhill walk that afforded Andy and I some time for deep conversation about, life, love, and why we put our bodies through this crap.

2011 Mayqueen #2 (87 Miles): 17:20
2010 Mayqueen #2: 17:13
2009 Mayqueen #2: 20:00
 
By the time we reached Mayqueen, I had finally fallen off of my 2010 pace and collapsed into a chair to warm up. I still hadn't been passed or passed another runner in more than 8 hours when Lynette Clymons finally came cruising by. Neither seeing her, nor hearing that I'd closed the gap on Brendan to within 7 minutes was enough to motivate me to attempt running again.

Andy had gotten extremely dehydrated over the last 37 miles and needed to relinquish his pacing duties at this point. This wasn't a problem though, since most people could crawl as fast as I was now moving. Kelly joined me and we made small talk to pass the time, but I was slowly becoming less lucid and more light headed. Before long I was dizzy and could hardly keep my eyes open. This led to repeated tripping and stumbling. After the longest hour and a half of my life we arrived at the Tabor boat ramp and I insisted on laying down again for my own self-preservation.

I would have been content staying on that cold concrete all night, but my crew finally persuaded me to get back up and dig in for the last 7 miles.

For this stretch Andy's girlfriend Lizzie accompanied me and it was again nice to have someone to talk (listen) to. This helped keep my mind active and I was far more alert as we finished our walk around the lake. The only problem we encountered on this stretch was a dying headlamp, but thankfully I had packed extra batteries that would get me through to the finish. As we were sitting down fumbling with my headlamp, my friend Patrick came running by... he seemed to be hauling and in good spirits. I was pretty stoked for him, yet somewhat jealous of the pace he was holding, since I would have killed to get this suffer-fest over with sooner. On-on we went.

Finally reaching the road I knew it was still 1-1.5 hours before I would be done. Combined with the fact that we passed our campsite along the way, I hit a new low. Another mile down the road more vomitting ensued, and after being depleted for as many hours as I had been, this one brought me to the ground - nearly in tears. Here more familiar faces paced, Tim and Marc if I remember correctly, and I eventually got up and we marched on.

Surprisingly, we eventually saw light and then hit pavement just after 1am. I now knew for a fact I would finish and decided to embrace the moment and walk in with an entourage of 9 other friends, family, and fellow runners. As I approached the red carpet I gladly just walked on through - no need to run now. What a relief to finally be done.

2011 Leadville 100: 21:21.31
2010 Leadville 100: 19:57.52
2009 Leadville 100: 23:21.27

For the record, 21 hours and 21 minutes hurts. I can't imagine what the 28-30 hour finishers must go through. After an hour and a half in the medical tent this year's adventure was finally over.

Never before during any race have I wanted to quit so bad for so long, but never before have I been so determined not too. I was not about to disappoint my friends and family who had come out to support me by dropping. I'd never felt as selfish as when I gave into the pain at Hardrock last summer, and held true to my vow to never experience that feeling again.

While I'm on the subject of crew, I need to thank Shelley, Kelly, Eric, Andy, Holly, and Lizzie for providing the hours and days of support and forcefulness I needed in order to get Leadville finish #3 under my belt. It sounds cliche' to say "I couldn't have done it without you", but honestly, I couldn't have. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
 
Until next year...

2011 Leadville 100 Predictions

The product of my last post was a list of 24 runners who are all viable threats for a top-10 finish at the Leadville 100 this year. After debating these names and accompanying resumes, have whittled the list down to my official top-10 prediction. Originally I thought I'd be able to put times with the names, but that was much easier said than done. I've taken a stab at the times - specifically, windows of time - but for the most part just focused on the placement.

With no further ado, here is my prediction:

1. Parr (17:30-ish)
2. Bowman (17-high)
3. Callahan (17-high)
4. Burch (Mid-18)
5. Sandes (Mid-18)
6. Gorman (Mid-18)
7. Anderson (Mid-18)
8. Arnstein (18-high)
9. Vega (18-high)
10. Williams (18-high)

In all honesty, it was hard to include my name on this list, but I think I have a fast time in me this year, and am overdue for a top-10 at a 100-miler after finishes of 12th and 11th last year (Rocky Raccoon and Leadville, respectively). If you take 'Williams' off the list, it truly is a toss-up between all the remaining names on my original list of 24. Specifically, I was having a hard time deciding between Garcia, Tremboli, Long, Harcrow, and Barger.

Pat and Brendan - Sorry to say this, but I am giving my 100 mile experience the advantage on this one, and consider it the equalizer. If this was a 50 miler, I wouldn't have picked myself to beat either of you.

Time-wise, without any of the high profile names (Roes, Krupicka, Clark, Jornet, Jones, etc.) running, I don't see anyone breaking 17 hours.

Now, enough of this armchair quarterbacking... bring on the real thing!

Surviving White River

Don't let the post title deceive you - I have had much bigger suffer-fests, by far - but that doesn't mean White River was a cake walk, or that things went exactly as planned.

(Mt. Ranier - The backdrop to White River.)

(Getting the low-down on the route from Mr. Henshaw.)

(Time to square off.)

To start with, the weather was pretty hot, which generally leads to slower times. Judging from the complete results, this was a slow year, even for the elite-level guys. As I mentioned in my previous post, I had thrown all definitive time goals out the window when I discovered snowy conditions still existed on sections of the course, and it's a good thing I did. 7:15 ended up being the time Andy ran, and his goal was sub-7. Even Uli ended up running a time of 6:49 that, while fast, was well slower than his previous best of 6:32.


(The start)

The race starts with about 4 miles of flat and then rolling terrain, before you hit the longest and steepest of the 2 climbs on the course - a 12 mile ascent to the Corral Pass aid station. I was able to run nearly every step of this climb, but was conscientously being conservative at the same time, knowing that the 2nd climb is supposedly where the race is won or lost. Combined with some of my usual problems - a bowel movement and a pair of minor falls - I reached the mile 17 aid station close to my original goal time but considerably farther back in the field than I'd hoped to be (approximately 20th place).

At Corral Pass I had to take my longest break of the day to get composed, take rocks out of my shoes, fix a broken handheld water bottle, scarf some calories, and lose the last of my warm clothing (gloves). In all, I probably lost 6 minutes here. It was definitely a huge boost though seeing familiar faces, as always. At each aid station I had the pleasure and psychological boost of seeing Holly, Andy's parents (Cheryl and Todd), and his girlfriend Lizzie.

(In a funk trying to get my bearings at Corral Pass.)

After saying my goodbyes I took the first long descent relatively conservatively and arrived back at the Camp Creek aid station (mile 27) near the start/finish in 19th - partially due to another bowel movement during the descent. Here I just topped off the necessities, said hi to everyone, and mentally dug in for the beginning of the real race.

Over the next 10 miles of mostly climbing, it got incredibly hot and exposed BUT I was determined to push through the pain and discomfort no matter what. By the end of the climb, I had vomitted several times (around the mile 32 aid station), felt like crap the whole time, and somehow managed to improve my position by 10 places!

After taking a second to appreciate the incredible views of Mt. Ranier from the Suntop Lookout aid station, I decided to let gravity help for a while and let the quads have their turn suffering. The next 6.5 miles are all downhill on a hard, steep, and dusty gravel road and aren't as enjoyable as one would imagine - even after 2 hours of climbing. Despite the pain in my legs and more stomach problems, I was able to cover this section in just under 43 minutes, and in doing so, I was in 6th place at the last aid station (mile 44).

While refueling to prepare for the last 7 miles of rolling, rocky, rooty terrain under a gigantic tree canopy alongside the White River, I was passed by one of the runners who I had overtaken just a few minutes prior. I left the aid station just a few seconds behind him, but pursuit was all for naught after I performed my best superman impression about a mile from the aid station. Toes were stubbed and screaming with pain, and my thumb rammed into a rock and split open under the nail. This pain and frustration took the fight out of me and I went into suffer mode for the next 5-6 miles, wishing for nothing else but for the pain to be over.

Finally, I rounded the last bend out of the trees and back toward the air strip and crossed the finish in 7:49 - good for 7th overall.

(7th place. 7:49.49)

I bit the bullet and soaked in the river after the race and within 2 minutes my legs were numb and my lips were purple. Even though this frigid water was excruciating to sit in, I think it greatly helped in my recovery as I'm not nearly as sore as usual after a 50-miler. I'm mainly nursing a really sore hamstring on my left leg, but I have no doubt I can be 100% recovered by Leadville as long as I take it somewhat easy this week.


(Post race freeze-fest.)

The rest of our time in the Seattle area was very relaxing and full of good seafood. A few more pics:



(Getting our post-race grub on.)



(Hey Brooks, which way to the Olympic Mountains?)



(We even found time to bag Rainier before catching our flight!)

And now, it's Leadville or Bust!

After landing in Denver, we tried to catch these guys at the Larimer Lounge, but the show sold out:

Into the Mind of Brooks: Mental Training

I've been analyzing my running abilities (and life in general) lately, and something I ponder frequently is what it is that has made me stronger and faster at races this year. What I've started to realize is that there is no real trick or shortcut to it, but rather, a few reminders that make the suffering more palatable. Everybody's mind and body will work slightly differently than mine, but for what it's worth here's what works for me:

1. Past experiences: After 2 1/2 years of pummeling my body at 50-100 mile distances, I've learned that humans are resilient creatures, and it takes a LOT to kill a person. Case in point: I'm sitting here writing this. And while I've certainly tried  at races (read: 2009 Minnesota Voyageur 50), nothing has proved fatal. This is a vital bit of knowledge when the going gets tough... I simply have to mentally remove myself from the current moment and current suffering and remind myself that this too, shall pass, that it won't kill me, and there is no reason to stop pushing.
2. The faster you go, the sooner the suffering ends: Easy concept. Difficult to execute at times.
3. The 'Small Drop in a Big Bucket' concept: This is one I came up with around mile 80 at last years' Leadville 100, and it has had the greatest psychological impact for me when I enter super-suffer mode. During a 100 miler, think about how short of a time period the 20-30 hours you're out there is in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it will be the worst 24 hours of your life, but consider how you have 8,736 hours to recover and NOT be in that level of pain until next year (assuming you don't swear off running altogether). Really doesn't seem like that long then, does it?
4. Confidence: I don't know what this years LT100 field looks like yet, but I'm sure there will be 20+ runners at the starting line who are more talented, more fit, and stronger than me, but I doubt there will be 5 who can endure and push through as much pain as me. I consider this to be a great equalizer at the 100 mile distance.
5. Regrets: Nothing has eaten away at me, and bothered me as much as my DNF at last years' Hardrock Hundred. Period. I plan on it being the last DNF I ever experience. Knowing the regret I still feel because of it provides all the motivation I need to keep grinding.
6. Something to prove: I'm a bit of an anomoly, having Cystic Fibrosis and still doing ultra-distance racing. I like knowing that I'm doing something previously unfathomable, and want to see just how fast I can get despite this minor disadvantage.

Oh, almost forgot... this was in this months' Ultra Running magazine: