Driving over Vail Pass the afternoon before the race, the
temperature read 33 degrees, the snow was blowing sideways, and I was wishing I
hadn’t put off getting new tires.
Being a cheapskate, I’m normally happy to sleep in the back
of my car the night before a race. This
time, I thought we could make a nice family weekend out of it, so I splurged
for a two night stay at the host hotel in the heart of Vail. I got there in plenty of time to check in and
re-pack my 4 drop bags before the pre-race meeting.
I had downloaded the maps and aid station/mileage charts as
soon as they were posted and had poured over them for hours, calculating my
pace over every single mile, adding in time at the aid stations. As I sat in the pre-race meeting, listening
to the course description and trying to follow along on my map, I was more and
more confused. There were climbs that I
didn’t see on my maps and the mileage didn’t quite match. I tried not to worry too much, as no one else
around me seemed to be concerned. Then
they told us to expect knee-deep snow going over the Ten Mile range. Now I was starting to worry.
After a short break, they assembled the elite runners for a
round-table interview. This was truly
inspiring and intimidating – more than a dozen of the top ultra-runners in the
world. Not the state, not the country,
but the world – France, Norway, Italy, Mexico, etc. They each politely dodged the question of who
was going to win, but what made my heart stop was when they were asked what the
winning time would be – 10 hours! Holy crap. I was assuming the winning time would be
closer to 8 hours. I figured that if I
had a decent day out there, I would finish in 1.5x the world class winning time
– 8 hours for the top pros, 12 to 13 hours for me. Now the equation changed dramatically – 10
hours for them would mean 15 for me!
That would be a very long day. I
quickly went from being nervous to being downright scared. I dodged back to the hotel room, got a spare
headlamp and threw it into an earlier drop bag, just in case.
Brenda and the girls were going to be coming in late, so I
sat in our room, had a dinner of hummus and flat bread, then sewed my hand-held
water bottle straps. After saving my
hands on a number of falls, they were starting to come apart. By the time they finally drove in, I had to
carry both girls to our room and they quickly went to sleep. I, unfortunately, was not so lucky. I tossed and turned for hours, trying
unsuccessfully not to worry too much about what lay ahead. By the time the alarm went off at 4:00 AM, I
had totaled less than 2 hours of intermittent sleep.
Everything was carefully laid out the night before, so I
quickly and quietly went through my pre-race prep and headed out to the lobby
to hop onto a shuttle van that would take us over to Breckenridge for the
start. With the start scheduled for 7:00
AM, we were all grumpily wondering why we had to leave Vail at 4:30, for what
should be a 45 minute drive. Turns out
the race director and the drivers were all nervous about getting us there on
time, and with good reason. Vail pass
had been shut down for a period of time overnight. The roads were still slick and the going was
a bit slow, but we got there in plenty of time and the running store that was
hosting the start had enough room to keep most of the runners out of the early
morning chill. I got to mingle with lots
of runners from all over the country. I
even ran into Shannon, the Breckenridge police chief. I had met her a year earlier at the Rocky
Mountain Program and knew she was a runner also.
One week ago, at the Javalina Jangover race outside of
Phoenix, the starting temperature was 99 degrees. Now it was in the mid 20’s – a full 75
degrees colder! The whole evening
before, I kept waffling about what to wear on the course. I wound up going with two thin long-sleeved
jersey’s, shorts, a thin hat, and gloves that I that didn’t think were going to
be adequate. I had also found a few left
over hand-warmers and had one inside my glove.
I tried to wait as long as possible to take off my sweats,
but waiting even a couple of minutes for the gun to start was a combination of
cold and nervous shivering. And then we
were off. Boy, it felt good to be
actually running after all the nerves and anticipation. As has happened in the past few races, no one
seemed to want to be at the front (expect for the pros), so I wound up starting
much further up than I would have preferred.
That didn’t last long, as runners streamed past me. I know a few were simply better than me, but
for most of them I was thinking “Hey guys, there’s 62 miles to go. What’s the rush?”
After a short bit on the pavement, we hit a gravel road and
then made our way straight up a ski slope.
This was the first modification from the maps that I had relied on. What I had initially planned on as a 2.4
mile, 200’ gain leg to the first aid station at Grand Lodge had been upped to
5.8 miles and 1,500’. After that initial
climb, things settled into a gently rolling trail down to Frisco. It was nice and cool in this shaded section,
with a little bit of snow and some intermittent ice patches that I was able to
navigate around. Despite having to stop
every 20 minutes due to over-hydration, I fell into a bit of a rhythm and was
able to have some nice conversations with runners from all over the country.
With the additional mileage and climbing, I got into Frisco
almost an hour behind schedule, so I wasn’t at all surprised that Brenda and
the girls weren’t there. I was actually
rather relieved that they weren’t sitting around waiting. The aid station was very well stocked, as had
been advertised. I filled bottles, got
some snacks and then found my first drop bag.
I tentatively made the decision to drop one of the long sleeve shirts
since we were going to be climbing soon.
I did take my Ultimate Direction running pack with a jacket in the back,
and snack pockets in front.
A bit out of Frisco, we started climbing up a rough forest
service road. One of the runners with
headphones in his ears almost got knocked off the side by a passing pickup
truck and trailer. He was pretty annoyed
and rude to the driver, but it was his own damn fault. I tried to warn him but he didn’t hear me
until the last second and then he seemed to think that sharing the road was a
foreign concept. That driver did nothing
wrong and he had as much of a right to the road as we did. I hate it when jerks like that are stupid and
rude, making it tougher for the rest of us.
Just before we got to the next aid station at Miners Creek
Road, I passed a gal who wasn’t looking so good. Apparently she was feeling the altitude and
throwing up repeatedly. Much to my
amazement, her plan was to continue on past the aid station, climb 3,500’ over
the Ten Mile range and drop out at Copper, where her friends were waiting for
her. I tried to nicely relay to her that
it would be stupidly dangerous. I’m not
sure what she decided in the end.
Hopefully the volunteers were able to dissuade her.
After the Miners Creek Road aid station we were back on the
trail and climbing up toward the Ten Mile Range. I was feeling pretty good, pacing myself just
right. By the time we got up close to
tree line, the snow was getting deeper and I started to pass more runners. It was beautiful up there, though I was glad
that others had broken the trail before me.
It was mainly packed, with some intermittent post holes. I opened up another hand warmer as the wind
was picking up. Luckily it was mainly
coming from behind. A few runners were
clearly struggling with the altitude, but I loved being up there, though I was
wishing I had brought a pair of sunglasses.
12,500’ with fresh snow and a clear, sunny sky can be pretty
blinding. At times I was alternating
keeping one eye open at a time. The last
thing I wanted was to suffer from snow blindness, especially once it got dark.
Though the trail was packed, parts of it had enough of a
side camber that it took some effort not to slide off. Where it leveled, I was able to run. There were quite a few false summits to the
pass and I was pleased when I finally hit the real top. In the mid 30’s, with a 15 mph wind, it was
pretty chilly, but I didn’t want to stop.
I knew that even the one minute that it would take to get my pack off
and put the jacket on would send me shivering.
I figured I would be fine as long as I kept moving and soon enough, I
would get back down into the trees. It
was truly beautiful up there and running down the other side on a snow packed
trail was a blast.
The decent towards Copper felt good after the long climb,
but I was having so much fun, I made the mistake of sticking with an Italian
runner from Connecticut. About 2/3 of
the way down, I realized that I was moving way too fast for this early in the
race. I eased up and enjoyed the
undulating downhill. I was happy to get
down to the bottom and figured we would cross the road and quickly head on into
Copper Mountain Village for the next aid station. Wrong.
This was another of the route changes from my maps. We actually turned south, headed part way up
the ski slopes, then traversed across before finally dropping down to the aid
station.
I was about an hour and a half behind my predicted time and
was not too happy about the unexpected detours.
As I stopped to resupply, Kirstyn and Amy came running up behind
me. I was thrilled to see them, even
though it was only for a minute. I felt
bad because Amy wanted to show me a rock snake that she was making and I was in
such a rush to move on. As I ran out, I
told Brenda I had no freaking idea as to when I would be at what aid
stations. I had given her a detailed
breakdown, but with all the changes, it wasn’t worth it for them to be sitting
around indefinitely.
I looked for the course out of the aid station when I was
pointed right back the way I had come.
Instead of getting on the bike path as I had anticipated, we headed
straight up the ski slope. Now I was
really unhappy. Not only did we have
this climb to deal with, but also some sloppy muck to navigate through.
After the seemingly needless climb, we eventually made our
way back down and onto the paved bike path.
I had been pretty conservative in planning my pace on this section and
had secretly hoped that I could make up some time. Unfortunately, with fatigue starting to take
its toll (in addition to my unhappy attitude), I wasn’t able to make up any
time at all. The climb was relatively
slow. Going down the other side, I was
able to roll along at a decent pace, but still not making up any real
time. A couple of miles down from the
top of Vail Pass was the next aid station.
On most races, I’m looking for ice to put in my bottles or down my
shorts. With the temperature starting to
cool off again, I enjoyed some warm chicken noodle soup. Not only did the salty soup taste good, but
it was served up by none other than Geoff Rose, one of the top ultra-runners in
the world. In what other sport can an
average schmuck like me be served by a world class athlete?
There was a slight but cool headwind coming down off the
pass, until we got back into more trees.
I hooked up with another runner and we stuck it out until the next aid
station at Two Elks trail where we would finally turn off the pavement. I don’t mind running on pavement that much,
but being right up against the interstate, and compared to the beauty of the
rest of the course, this was my least favorite part. Killian Jornet was chided by some for calling
this section “boring”. I’m assuming
these critics didn’t actually run the course, because I would definitely agree
with him. I don’t know if there would
have been a better way to connect from Copper to Two Elks, but maybe they can
figure something out if this race course is utilized again.
Once off the pavement, the Two Elks trail crossed under the
highway and started climbing up a valley.
The bottom was moist from the dripping trees, yet still reasonably warm
from the sun. As we climbed farther up,
the snow got a bit deeper and the temperature fell. It wasn’t too cold so clumps of snow would
periodically fall from the trees, but luckily none plopped down on my head. That would not have been fun. The climb was long and I was getting tired so
I kept to a pretty conservative pace. I
still managed to pass a couple of runners and by the time we got up above the
trees, I felt stronger and passed a few more.
This upper section of Vail Mountain, heading up to the Two Elks Lodge aid
station was gorgeous, but unfortunately the previous night’s snow had melted
into nasty, gooey mud.
At the aid station, I enjoyed some more warm soup as I
re-stocked my supplies. I took the extra
headlamp with me as I wasn’t completely sure I would get to the Minturn before
dark. I was also going to enjoy a
refreshing and hydrating can of club soda.
I had put one in each drop bag.
When I reached in, I felt a soggy shirt and a very light and empty
can. Apparently it had made too quick of
a trip up the 3,000’ in altitude and had exploded inside the bag. Luckily it’s nothing but carbonated water and
I didn’t need the extra shirt.
The next mile and a half were even more unpleasant than the
asphalt. What would have been an easy
jaunt on the dirt service roads at the top of the ski area became a slippery
slog through more mud. I let a few
choice words fly as I was slipping this way and that, but eventually, we got
back onto a trail. This section heading
down to Minturn was one of my favorites - gently downhill rolling single-track,
with the sun setting on hillsides of golden aspen. It was just beautiful. I wish I had carried a camera, but I’m way
too stingy with any extra ounces.
It was on this section that I hooked up with Rick Valentine
from Idaho. He caught up to me near the
top and I thought he would just pass me, but he stayed on my tail the whole way
down. It was nice to have someone to
chat with and share the beautiful scenery.
Neither one of us had a GPS so we guestimated our progress and were
disappointedly corrected when we came up upon a couple of hikers and runners
lower down.
We finally made it into the small town of Minturn, right
around the 12 hour mark and just before it got dark. I reloaded my supplies, grabbed my better
headlamp, and headed back out through town chugging a can of Coke (good thing
that didn’t explode in my drop bag).
Rick caught up to me shortly and we flicked on our lights as we navigated
back onto the trail for the final climb of the day. Only 10 more miles to go, but there was still
a 2,500’ climb in front of us.
Shortly after we hit the trail, we caught up to Mark, from
Breckenridge. Given how we caught him, I
thought we might just pass on by, but Mark wasn’t ready to be passed. He kept motoring on up the climb with me and
Rick following. Parts of the climb were
steep, but other areas were more moderate and these guys started running. I wouldn’t have been running if I was on my
own at this point, but I didn’t want to get left behind, so I walked when they
walked and ran when they ran. I was
amazed and proud of myself that I could actually run uphill after 60 miles!
It was a beautiful, clear, and dark night as we made our way
back up to Vail Mountain. The stars were
magnificent, though I couldn’t look up for long. We eventually arrived at the top of the Vail
gondola and our final aid station. I had
a cup of Coke and asked one of the very helpful volunteers to pull my jacket
out of the pack. I hadn’t used it all
day, but with the temperature dropping and my energy reserves running low, I
knew I would need it to keep warm.
After navigating a bit more mud at the top, we got on the
dirt road that would take us down the mountain and to the finish line. They told us 4.5 miles to go at the top, but
it turned out to be 6. I ran pretty
well, but Rick and Mark broke away as they were stronger and more
fearless. That final descent seemed to
take forever. There were lots of
switchbacks going back and forth across the face of the mountain and the lights
at the bottom were only slowly getting closer.
The road was smooth, with intermittent soft spots and the light of the
headlamp shone hypnotically in front of me.
I had stayed upright all day and I didn’t want to do a face plant so
close to the end.
I hadn’t bothered to look at my watch for quite a while but from
Minturn, I had calculated that we would finish somewhere around 14:30. When I crossed the line, with bright lights
blinding me, the clock read 14:27:21!
Almost 5 hours and 16 miles longer, and 4,500’ more climbing than any
run I have ever done. I was ecstatic,
but it got even better. Being almost
9:30 PM, I figured Brenda and the girls were long asleep, but no. Kirstyn and Amy came running out of the
shadows for a big hug. I was shocked and
thrilled that they had stayed up to share this moment with me.
I would have been happier knowing the correct course before
the start and not having to deal with the sloppy mud, but oh well, that’s what
ultra-running is all about, dealing with the unexpected. The course had magnificent sections like the
snowy, alpine crossing of the Ten Mile range and the incredible golden aspens
on the back side of Vail Mountain. Even
better were all the connections that I made with various runners along the way,
especially Rick and Mark who practically pulled me up the final climb.
This was an awesome and epic race. I was so scared before the start and so proud
after the finish. My overall placement
(36th out of 78) was one of the worst I’ve ever had, but I couldn’t
be happier. Half of the runners in front
of me were pros and 45% of the field didn’t even finish. I know it’s still a 50% increase in mileage
and 20% increase in elevation gain to Leadville, but I feel like I am a huge
step closer
