A Tumbling Pace

Saturday I raced the Leadville Trail Marathon.  I came into Leadville Wed. evening in order to adjust to the altitude a bit more.  In town I ran into a familiar face from the Leadville Trail 100, a man who looked to be in his seventies.  I said “Now that’s a familiar face” and told him that I didn’t know who he was but I had seen him around the Leadville 100.  It turned out to ultrarunning super fan Bill Dooper, who lives in Leadville.  He asked me if I had seen the course and when I said I hadn’t he offered to give me a personal detailed tour.  ”You will know this course like the back of your hand when I am done with you”.  We agreed to meet at 1pm and Bill showed up at 12:45 in the coffee shop where I was working.  He had a 1000 things to tell me and ask me.   Bill is an old farmer from Wisconsin who after a near death brain bleeding injury became interested in fitness, and ultrarunning.   “I watch every single thing the leaders do” he told me.  ”When they come through transitions, I take note of everything.  I even watch how they part their hair.  Of course it doesn’t matter for me because I don’t have any.” He pulls off his cap, revealing a nasty gash ripping through his bald head.  ”It’s an ugly head isn’t it”.  The gash is from emergency surgery Bill had when he was helicoptered to a Denver hospital after his brain started filling with blood after falling on ice.   Surviving that experience spurred him onto embrace a life of fitness like few people his age.  Every morning he hikes the area where the Leadville Trail marathon takes place, starting around 5am and hiking for 2 to 3 hours, over 10 miles around 11 to 12 thousand feet on steep mining roads.  As we toured the course, he showed off his knowledge of the area.   “Ok first I am going to take you over to the first turnoff.  Now this is where the marathon and 1/2 marathon course split.  Turn right.  Ok, now stop here.  Let’s get out.  Now hike up there about 100 yards.”  I hiked up as ordered.  He yells up:  ”That is where the first aid station will be.  You will pass that 4 times.”   We continue this all over the parts of the course that are drivable.  ”Don’t worry, we aren’t going to go anywhere I wouldn’t take my own car” he says, as we bump slowly up and down the mining roads.   Bill is a fairly precise guy, in that old farmer guy sort of way.  He doesn’t ramble.   He cuts things short when his point is made.   This made him good company.   We talked a lot about the Western States race sharing little pieces of information about Geoff Roes and Anton, the heros of ultrarunning.  We talked about strength training.  Bill started lifting weights in addition to his daily hikes a year and 1/2 ago, about the time I started and we both talked about how it had changed our fitness.  I could tell that Bill had built some muscle.  For a 75 year old man who is 135 pounds, he has a a bit of a presence to him, most noticeable when he walks.  It’s an effortless strong strut, very cocky.  He keeps his head down, like how many older people walk, but he told me he only does that to fool people.  ”I will cross the street with my head down.  I will pass tons of young guys visiting Leadville.  They think I am some old man but it’s fun to show them up.  I live up here.  They aren’t adjusted to the altitude like I am.”  

After seeing the course and heading back to the coffee shop I say goodbye to Bill and get back to work.  By this time he has talked me into meeting him at 5am to hike the course with him and his friend Stuart, a 13 time finisher of the Leadville 100, a man who will turn 70 this summer.  I never get up that early and wasn’t very happy about changing my pattern the day before the race but it was a great chance to see Ball Mountain, a section only viewable by walking, and to hang with 2 cool guys, so I accepted.  The next morning I wake up at 4:45 and drive into Leadville heading straight for Stuart’s house, which Bill had pointed out specifically.  I can’t find it, driving around for 10 minutes, all the houses and corners looking the same.  I feel stupid and am about to give up when I spot Stuart and Bill hiking up out of town.  They tell me to park and they will wait for me and I a bit embarrassed at my guffaw.  Bill is forgiving: “Don’t worry about it, it’s just like trail running.  Sometimes everything looks the same”.  We hike for 3 hours and Stuart and I talk at length about computer programming and Apple, while Bill is quiet.  Stuart is a tall, strong guy, with glasses.  He seems shy and intelligent, a former mathematics professor.   But him and I have a good rapport and like most ultra runners he can talk and hike, probably forever.   As we round Ball Mountain I start to get hungry and feel weak and tired, having not eaten anything.  Stuart tells me how important it is to be able to hike when ultra-running.  He says I should train to hike.  It seems crazy but I know he is right.  I stash his advice away for later.   Since it’s getting late in the day about 8:30 and I need to get to work, I tell Bill and Stuart goodbye and tell them I will run down to my car.  ”I will catch you in the coffee shop” Bill says.  ”Now I want to see how fast you can run downhill.  Take off, get out of here.”

On Ball Mountain, with Stuart (left) and Bill.

  I take off downhill not feeling any game in my legs and a bit worried about the challenge of the next day.  I am plagued with all sorts of doubts as I get back to the coffee shop after taking a shower, and I feel exhausted.  But I decide to just relax and look forward to the race.  Lots of other runners come into the coffee shop all excited about the race and I feed off of their positive energy, feeling better about the race.   Bill shows up all looking cool in his Pearl Izumi shoes, yellow neon jacket and orange watch.  We walk down and pick up my packet and he rattles of dozens of anecdotes about Leadville.  ”That guy beats women and that is not ok in my book.   I don’t like that guy.”    After hanging with Bill for a while more I just want to be by myself for a while so I excuse myself to work.  I can’t concentrate that well at the coffee shop and feel restless.  So I head over over to the library Bill had recommended as a good spot for wifi, and find a nice quiet spot to relax and concentrate.   About 7, after a simple and cheap $12 steak dinner, I retire in my tent and fall fast asleep, determined to be as rested as possible for the race in the morning.

On race morning I felt relaxed and prepared.  I got up and went through the typical routine, having everything ready well in advance.  I took one water bottle full of gatorade, water, and Red Bull.  Yes, I know it seems crazy but I thought Red Bull would be a nice jolt of caffeine to help me up the mountain.  I got to the starting line 30 minutes before the start and the race banner was just being erected.  Somehow this pissed me off a little bit for the lack of preparation but I didn’t dwell on silly things like that.  I just sat around waited for the race to start.   As the gun went off I felt fine and strong.  The first climb in this race is challenging.  It takes about 3.5 to 4 miles to get to the first aid station and it’s all really steep, rocky trail.   When I get to the top I felt fairly tired but only in the lungs from the climb.  There was Bill to greet me and the other runners, telling us all we looked good and get out there and have more fun.  I headed out of the aid station ready to run around Ball Mountain the first time.   Iconcentrated on a relaxed quick cadence.   There was a difficult climb out of Ball where I did my first serious hiking, something I would be doing a lot of all day.   The single track on the back of Ball was really beautiful and runnable and I told myself to enjoy it because it would be the last truly enjoyable runnable section of the course for me.   I came into the same aid station again after running around Ball, taking a quick bathroom break and then hurrying out to stay with some guys I was using as pacers.

The descent down the second aid station at mile 10 was a long hot run and it wore me out, perhaps a bit too much.  At the bottom I felt really tired as Bill passed me riding on the back of a 4 wheeler with the race director, holding on tight with a grin on his face, the little fucker.  I grabbed some watermelon, a GU, refilled my bottle and headed up for the toughest portion of the course, the 3 mile climb to Mosquito Pass.  I instantly could tell I had no climbing game.  My legs felt fine, the problem was altitude.  I was climbing really slow and was being passed.  I got passed by all types of people I had earlier marked as people I would surely crush, and it was very humbling.  As we got higher and higher I felt weaker and weaker and for a brief moment a bit of panic started to creep in, that I had some fatal flaw and was going to finish this thing in some embarrassing amount of time, if at all.  I was hanging with people telling me they were from Austin, I was being passed by 65 year old ladies, it was the most humbling experience I could imagine.  But I just kept going, putting one foot in front of another, hoping things would change for me.   And they did, with about 1/2 mile to go to the top, I started to feel a lot better and bounded up the final 1/2 mile to the top, even running at the top.  I didn’t stop hardly at all but turned around tried to run down as fast as I could.  It  took a while to get a rhythm but finally I did and I entered the same aid station at the bottom, having lost about 45 minutes on the people who I was with the last time I was there.  

My attitude was in the right place however and I took back up the long climb to the aid station by Ball Mountain.  I felt strong compared to those around me, probably because I had fallen back with weaker runners and I was able to pass a couple of guys quickly and run for 40 seconds at a time and then walk.  I kept hydrating as I could feel a few cramps, telling myself to drink at every flag.  I was starting to feel the real challenge of this race: it was hard to run,  I felt exhausted, nutrition and hydration were key and I was almost 4 hours into the race.  I was loving it!  Well not in a happy, joyful sort of way but in that deeply engaged personal sort of a way.  Now this was an endurance event, if this was what ultras were like, I could see myself enjoying them.   It was all about keeping moving, trying to become a runner again, although it seemed impossible to pull it out of your legs.   Now please realize that I was running a marathon, this was nothing compared to what real ultra-runners do regularly during races.   I could hear the real ultra-runners chat around me amiably enjoying this short race with their friends, talking about past races and nutrition.   I went through the same central aid station a third time (out of 4) and saw runners I had been with earlier already around Ball Mountain, heading down for their sub-5 hour finish, the time I had wanted.   I knew at this point that the best I could hope for was around 5:30 and that would all be due to how strong I was from here on out.  

The next 3.5 mile section was to go back around Ball Mountain once more, involving 2 more significant climbs.  I knew this would be physically the toughest part of the course.  I didn’t feel strong at all and felt weak but I knew just about everybody did and I just need to keep hydrating, downing gu and jello shots, and keep moving.  I knew that if I could just make it through this section then there was only one more section left.  I kept moving the best I could, at times feeling pretty pitiful.  Finally I had the nice long downhill on the other side of Ball and I actually got a fairly steady run going because of the competitive pressure.  I fell in with a group of ultrarunners for the final climb which was really challenging but I could smell the final pass through that aid station and wanted to make it there by 5 hours flat, giving me 30 minutes to finish the final 4.5 miles.  I went through the aid station right at 5:00 hours flat and raced off down the hill, hoping that one gu and one bottle of only water would be enough to keep me from cramping. 

I concentrated on breathing and holding it together through the very technical descent.  I passed 2 ultrarunning chicks talking casually who told me to be safe and I reached the bottom safely behind a couple runners.  I wondered if I could catch them but when I sped up I immediately started to cramp.  I slowed down for a minute, shortened my stride, squeezed out the rest of the gu, and made one final push.  I was running, thank God and at a 7:30 pace, even.  I passed the guy in front of me.  He tried to run with me for about a mile but finally gave up with me yelling politely “Good job”.  I ran into the finish almost cramping but holding it together where you guessed it Bill was waiting.  ”I need to train out here more” were the first words out of my mouth.  ”I lost 45 minutes on the climb to Mosquito”.  Bill had just the right thing to say.  ”Mountain running involves steep climbs at altitude.  It takes really strong legs and lungs.  This race showed you where you are at and now you can train for the next one” he said, or something like that, I was so tired I can’t remember exactly what he said.   I finished in 5:37, a B- (I can’t bear to give myself a C).

Bill offered to let me use his shower and we headed off to his disorganized apartment full of training books, stacks of running shoes in boxes, power aid bags, and ultra-running paraphernalia.  A cold shower had me feeling decent and Bill and I talked for another hour or so as I relaxed.  He told me more about his accident, how it had bankrupted him (something that happens to lots of Americans) and he showed me the strength exercises he does every day.  He put my contact info in his famous black book as he calls it, full of famous runners he knows, and gave me a big bag of poweraid and let me borrow the book “The Lore of Running”, about 400 pages of everything I would ever need to know about running and training.    We left with warm regards to see each other again in Leadville, and I left my new friend heading off for Crested Butte to camp with some friends and celebrate the 4th.  

I am here in Crested Butte training on soft trails and re-strategizing my training in light of this race for the rest of the year.   One thing is clear, I need to train steeper and often higher.  I rented a mountain bike (and might buy it, gasp) and I am taking no pictures.  This place shouldn’t be experienced through pictures, it’s too beautiful, everybody should come experience how wonderful it is in the summer in person.  Happy 4th everybody, thanks for reading my long race report.