Snowshoeing!

I'm sitting at my office, still, after 9PM on a Monday night because I am hellbent on finishing up all (12) short answer essays I still need to crank out by February 15 in order to apply for Dietetic Internships and a scholarship. So obviously this is the ideal time to write up a quick race recap on the Sourdough Snowshoe Race that Alex twisted my arm into running a few weeks ago.

I signed up for this (free!!!!) race way back when registration first opened. Mostly because it was free, but also because it would be a fun opportunity to get together with the big group of friends that were planning on snowshoeing (running?) that day down in Nederland and experience a new sport (snowshoeing). I had literally never seen a pair of snowshoes in person when I registered. Let's forget about actually snowshoeing. Who needs race specific prep anyways?!

At the start of December, I actually had the opportunity to get out on a pair of snowshoes, courtesy of a research group outing organized and outfitted by my advisor (he has a rather large number of snowshoes between all of his children that we were able to borrow). We headed out for a fun day in the deep snow near Cameron Pass in the Poudre Canyon, where we successfully slogged 3.5 miles in a 3 hour time period. I was feeling really great about 30 kilometers in snowshoes. Yep. But it was an incredibly fun day, nonetheless, with some good friends and fun powder to frolic in.

As the big day - my A-Race for the winter season - approached, all other competitors began dropping like flies. Even TNC decided to wimp out at the last minute! And I tried to drop out too. I really did. But after telling Alex my plan to bail (since everyone else had), I got a text from him the day before informing me that he was dropping to the shorter distance and he would pick me up at 6:30am. So just like that, I was running (snowshoeing?) my first ever snowshoe race. I borrowed a set of racing snowshoes from a friend of mine on the Runner's Roost team, and majorly over packed every item I thought I might possibly have a use for at the race.

Alex and I somehow made it to the start-line, despite a consensus from us both that not going would have possibly been preferable. We picked up our packets, strapped on our snowshoes, and hobbled off onto the course. I'm a pretty spazzy person to start with. Put me on snowshoes, and well, it actually wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. I stumbled my way through the first mile, almost entirely at a run, and then decided it was an extreme amount of work and started trudging. And trudge I did, all the way to the turn-around at mile 5.8. And I'm proud to say I only fell twice outbound. There, I replaced my snow-drenched gloves (I kicked up roughly an entire winter's worth of snowfall onto my right hand, but not my left??), downed some hot tea and a few doughnut holes, and took off again for the finish. The return trip wasn't a whole lot more eventful than the outbound.

With about half a mile to go, I found Alex waiting for me on the side of the trail and we ran it in together. And I actually ran at the end! And picked up the pace a bit! And managed to beat Joe Grant by four whopping minutes (he won the 30K...I ran the 11.4 mile race). But I am disappointed to say that I was a full minute slower than my marathon time from December.

So I'm pretty sure that this was, at best, a pretty mediocre performance (but for real, it was one of my worst showings in the past few years). So, um, I probably won't be turning pro as a snowshoe racer any time soon. But I am glad that Alex dragged my butt down to Nederland to get in on some wintertime fun. Kevin Lund et al put on a pretty incredible, and really well-supported and well-swagged, event. For the whoppingly expensive cost of $0, I came away with an incredibly well-supported aid station, two pairs of new socks, and some random race swag. Pretty kickass. 

2013 In The Books

Freeze-Frame High Five!

In Russian culture, New Years is a huge deal. As my Russian friend, and New Years celebrating partner Dasha, informed us all this year, the way you celebrate New Years Eve sets the stage for the entire year. 2013 started out BIG. If you will, Legen...wait for it...and I hope you're not lactose intolerant because the next part is...DAIRY. Legendary. January the first of 2013. What did I do? Oh yea, that's right, register for the Leadville 100. A controversial move in many circles, mine included, but not because I registered for a 100 mile foot race. Nah. People just get really amped up about the topic of Leadville. But yea, 2013 started off big. We also rang in the New Year in epic fashion, at a kick-ass house party in a gorgeous house nestled at the base of Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Democrat, just down the hill from Hoosier Pass.

I'm not entirely sure why I decided to run a 100 in 2013. I think it might have had something to do with Pete goading me about registering last minute for the Run Rabbit Run 100 back in September 2012 (a move I am beyond grateful I didn't make - NEVER make decisions at the Trailhead - NEVER register for races at the Trailhead - occasionally it's okay to buy engagement gifts via iphone there, though).

2013 was punctuated by running events and achievements, more so than anything else. I called it the year of the ultra, and it sure as heck was. By the numbers, here's how 2013 went...

2,184 miles run
316 miles: biggest single training month
100 miles: biggest single training week
100 miles: longest race run (Leadville 100!)
65 hours: longest time I've ever gone without real sleep (just a couple catnaps)
16 races total
3 PRs (2 in the 5K and one in the Marathon)
3 Pacing/crewing experiences at different 100s
3 Ultras run (Moab Red Hot 55K, Grand Canyon R2R2R, Leadville 100)
1 BQ
1 100 mile race

I got to participate in several friends' journeys through 100 mile races. Those are their stories to tell, but I am beyond honored to have been asked and allowed to participate in their weekends. Ultras are tough on all that are involved - the crew, the pacers, the runners, the family, the friends, and the dogs of those involved. But at the end of the day, being able to share in such an intimate experience of joy, sorrow, pain, laughter, and elation is worth every sleepless night and hangry comment that it illicits. So thank you to Victoria, Pete, Alan, and Rob Howard for including me in your adventures. And thank you to Cat, Mike, my parents, Kristel (and Victoria, Pete, Alan, VFuel, and so many others) for your support, patience, and participation in my own 100 mile adventure and training.

But now for 2014...
In 2013...I laughed a lot, I ate a lot, I learned a lot, and I had some totally awesome times, all around. But I find myself hitting 2014 feeling kind of let-down by 2013. I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling it was the singularity of focus that I gave to 2013. It was completely awesome running so much. And if anything, I want to run more in 2014. But I also forgot to rock climb, and bike, and climb mountains. I hit the summit of precisely zero 14ers (or 13ers or 12ers) this year. I went on no backpacking trips. My year was so consumed by training, that I let go of a lot of the other things that I really love to do. So in 2014, I want to do everything I did in 2013...but then do more awesome in 2014. And not run a 100 this year. Maybe in 2015. Or 2016.

I love to exercise, not for the sake of exercise, but for the ability to do.

I bike to spend time with friends, to go really freaking fast, and to see parts of the road I might not pay attention to when driving. I want to spend more time biking in 2014.

I rock climb because I love the challenge, the feel of rock and chalk on my finger tips, the sensation of barely holding on when falling would really suck. It's also the only motivator I have to lift. I want to be strong to climb better, not to be strong. In 2014, I want to start lead climbing more consistently. I want to get outside more.

I run pretty much just to run. It gives me the ability to see so much of the mountains and cover trail systems it would take others days to hike around. Running gives me community and some of the best friends I'll ever have. It also makes beer taste better and food more delicious. Trust me. I ran a lot in 2013. I don't know that I'll run more in 2014. But I want to savor it more. And I want my running to be more about the journey in 2014, not the destination. I also really want to run a 3:15 marathon, so maybe a little bit about the destination.

I want to spend more time in the mountains. A lot more time in the mountains.
I want to start taking steps towards a real and lasting career, and carving a path that will be fulfilling, worth-while, and enjoyable.
I want more awesome, and less suck.
I want to simplify my life, and eliminate the clutter.
I want to read more and watch less TV.
I want to be more in the moment.

If I can do all of those things at least halfway, I think I will be able to call 2014 a success. Bring it!

Tucson Marathon

December 8, I ran the Tucson Marathon. It was my first road marathon since October 2009. For some reason, the idea of running a marathon a mere 4 months after my first hundred seemed like a really good idea back in July when I registered. An even better idea, or so it seemed at the time, would be shooting for a goal of a 3:15. HAH! Six weeks after Leadville, I was still barely running. And when I did run, my legs felt like they had lead weights attached to them. After a run where I managed to...barely...knock off an 8:20/mile average for four whopping miles, I made the decision to do something unprecendented. I decided to find a coach, and significantly revised my marathon goal time down to a 3:30, or at the least a BQ. I contacted Mike Chavez off the recommendation of two friends who were currently working with him, and we set to work creating a plan to get me to the start-line of the Tucson Marathon in 9 weeks.

It took me until about three weeks before the marathon for my legs to snap back into shape, and I found myself on the start line with a 15.5 mile run as my longest since Leadville four months prior. With a light snow falling, a strong wind whipping around, and temps about 10 degrees cooler than forecasted, I was feeling pretty apprehensive standing on the start-line waiting to get going. I bounced back and forth from the porta-potty line to the shuttle buses in the hour leading up to the run and, with 10 minutes to go, shed my layers and jogged out a ways and back again as a warm-up. It wasn't really effective. The temperatures were just too cold given the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing.

I knew the course was pretty downhill (something like 2000 ft of descent??), but it also had a few pretty decent hills thrown in and a handful of rollers throughout the course (not really represented in the elevation chart). I took off at a 7:40 pace (too fast!) and pulled it back a bit before settling into an average just under 8/mi for the first 10 miles. Didn't hold that for the whole marathon, but also didn't drop off it too much. Mile 9.5 or so was hit with an incredibly *fun* (read horrific low point) set of rollers on an out-and-back section. It took more mental fortitude to get through the 5'ish miles I was on that section than any other piece of the course. My pace dropped a touch, but I hit the main highway again around mile 14 or 15 and it was rainbows and unicorns again. Well kind of. My legs felt pretty tired. I was officially at the longest distance I'd run in the past four months. But I was still running strong, and still hitting about 7:5x/mile without the effort feeling strained. Around mile 18, even that was over. I was running 8 minute flat, but it was feeling more labored. Even then, I was grinning ear-to-ear (or in my mind I was - I'm sure pictures would show something that looked like a tortured twisted grimace) because this was the furthest I had ever made it in a marathon uninjured!

The last 10K was pretty horrendous. I know, I know, the last 10K is always a pretty horrendous gut-it-out labor-of-something-that-isn't-love. But this was worse. I think. I actually don't really know. I've run two other road marathons. In marathon 1, I came in still recovering from a bad case of runner's knee, and landed myself with a stress fracture that blew up on me at mile 8. I finished. And limped across the line in 5:47. In second to last place. After walking 0.5/running 0.5 (limping all of each mile??) for the final 18 miles. I should have been pulled. I should have quit. Thank you record-breaking temps for guaranteeing not a single medical person on the course, due to high numbers of heat-stroke. Marathon 2, IT band issues starting at mile 15. So that 10K hurt like hell (or what I imagine hell to hurt like). But it also hurt only in the "holy crap I've run a reasonably hard 20 prior miles off of relatively little training" sense and NOT AT ALL in the "holy crap I'm injured" sense. A last minute course reroute threw in a few extra fun hills at mile 21. They were a real joy to run over. But, at least, I knew when I hit mile 23, I was in the home stretch. Only a 5K to go, and there really was no more decent or ascent. Just a lot of turns. So many turns. Every half mile was a turn. Even as I approached the last two tenths of a mile to the finish, I couldn't see the finish. It was around a final turn.

Just kidding, that didn't happen.

I crossed the line in 3:32:51 (woohoo BQ!!), which was not at all my goal. But I am still, nearly an entire month later, beyond stoked about it. Given how I really never felt prepared, or trained, at any point for this race, I am first and foremost stoked to have actually run the entire whopping distance. Then there was my awesome level of fueling in this race. The thing that totally freaked me out the most about running a road marathon was the separation from my safety blanket of handhelds and hydration packs - where do you put your gels when you run a road marathon?! (I safety pinned mine between a tank top and my sports bra. Undoing the safety pins in near-freezing conditions with chilly fingers while running was scary. Scary.). But despite that, I managed to settle into a good technique of basically perpetually carrying and occasionally sipping on my gels. No bonk! Woohoo! I really should be better at the practice of sports nutrition... Maybe in 2014. But also, most importantly, I ran this race exactly as I had planned. I ran smart. I ran uninjured. And I stayed really freaking positive the entire time. I even had fun! It was awesome!

Bring it on, Boston Marathon 2015! Can't wait to meet you. 

26.2 and other stickers

The other day, when I was in a car with a friend, we pulled up to a stop sign behind a car with a 26.2 sticker and a 13.1 sticker on it. She asked me if, after running the Leadville 100, I laughed at how short those distances are and the people who displayed those stickers (paraphrased, of course). It wasn't intended as a jab at any snobbery or better-than-thou attitude on my part. It was more just a genuine question - "hey you ran 100 miles, so now does the idea of running a half marathon seem silly to you now?"

I have a tattoo that maybe 10% of the people I know know of. Or maybe more. I don't really know. I also don't really care that much who knows about it. It's a 26.2 in a circle. I cared who knew I had it when I got it, and strategically placed it where no one at my job (at the time, trading a financial product no one has ever heard of outside the industry at a big international investment bank) would be able to see it. Mission accomplished. Minus that I inadvertantly landed myself with a marathon-themed tramp stamp. Oops. Lesson learned. I got that tattoo at a time when I thought I'd run marathons forever. Also at a time when I thought marathons were pretty damn badass. I still think that, for the record. So are 100s. And 5Ks.

The 5K distance scares the crap out of me. Run almost as hard as you can for 3.1 miles, so hard you might actually puke when you cross the finish line? Oh that terrifies me to no end. I was a bundle of nerves leading up to Leadville, but it was nothing compared to how I feel the night before a 5K. Not that the distance is that far, or my pace is even that fast. It's just hard, and those 20'some minutes go on forever. FOREVER. Longer than a treadmill mile.

I have a marathon coming up on Sunday - my first road marathon in over four years. Good thing I have a marathon tattoo, huh? It's clearly a really important distance in my world. I didn't get that tattoo because I love marathons - at the time I was both intimidated by and enamoured with that distance. I still am. I got that tattoo to symbolize my love for running, a twin of one my best friend (a term I reserve only for one friend, who I have been sisters with since we met in shopping carts at the grocery store prior to our first birthdays) got the same day. And also because I really wanted a tattoo. 

So back to that question that was posed to me. Do I think those distances are silly? Hells no. It really shouldn't matter if someone wants to run 100 miles or a 5K or 1 mile. If someone chooses to run repeats for 10 hours on a track, 10 miles on the wide open road, along the coastline, or through the mountains - well that's great. They're out doing something they love - or they're trying to learn to love - they're running! I've certainly fallen into the judging in the past, as I'm sure almost all of us have. But really, aren't we all just different breeds of the same species?

Anyway, um, 3 days to my first marathon in 4 years. A race for which I feel woefully unprepared. But at least it will be warmer than the forecasted 18 degrees F in Fort Collins. Bring it on, Tucson. Let's do this.
 

The Leaves are a'Changing

At this very moment, I am sitting outside with yellow fall leaves crunching across the cement patio, billowed about by the wind, drinking a hot chai tea and wearing jeans, a light sweater, and boots. So what you say? Well, I'm not sweating my butt off and I'm not freezing cold. I'm going to go ahead and declare this as the Perfect Weather. I might not get a tan (who needs skin cancer anyways??), but I don't want to go inside. And this evening when I go for a run, I'll probably still wear a tank top and shorts. I might finish with a chill on my arms from a light wind and falling temps, but I call that perfection.

Monmouth Coffee Company: some of the only gooooddddd coffee I found in London

The rainy, angry transition to Autumn that Colorado has been having these past few weeks brings me back to the two Autumn seasons I experienced living in London. It's the only time of the year that I ever feel at all nostalgic for the dreary grey city that I was exiled (er...transferred for work) to for a brief blip in my life. This weather, though, makes me crave lazy Saturday mornings wandering through Borough Market to buy overpriced groceries for gourmet cook-a-thons in the kitchen while drinking hot spiced wine or lattes from Monmouth Coffee Company and scouring the craft beer stall for delicious American micros for later indulgence. And it really makes me dream of running through and around Hampstead Heath - the closest thing to a real forest I ever found in London.

I spent many a weekend afternoon meandering around Hampstead Heath - when I could work up the energy to drag myself out into the drear

I'm sure, though, that in a few days I'll snap out of this phase of waxing poetic about a place where I actually really hated living. Not that I'd ever turn down a trip to run on some of the moors and heaths around England, nor a meal at VitaO... 

Apple & Pumpkin Season!

Even as the weather continues to hover in the 90s in Fort Collins, the growing season ticks on. Peaches are ripening, the transition from summer squashes to fall squashes is in full swing, and pumpkin beers are dominating the shelves at beer stores. Fall is tangibly working itself into the air - I couldn't be more excited for chilly nights, frost-tipped grass to run through in the mornings, hoodies, hot tea, fleecy blankets, and good books. Most importantly though, pumpkin spice lattes have hit the coffee bars at Starbucks all over the country.

Although I spend a lot of my time running, food and nutrition pretty much top the lists of my other passions. Fall foods are hands down my favorites too.

The pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks is my favorite guilty indulgence. But since I'm still not running much in my post-Leadville recovery, I'm delaying my first PSL of the season. To quell my cravings though, I opened a can of pumpkin puree the other day to make my own (slightly healthier) version of a pumpkin spice latte. Combine 1/2 C almond milk (or whatever your milk of choice is), 1 tsp of sugar, and 1.5 TBSP pumpkin puree in a 16 oz coffee mug, heat it up, and top it off with 10 oz of dark roast coffee. A sprinkle of pumpkin pie spices to top it off, and you basically have heaven in a (ceramic) glass.

Then last night I had dinner with a friend. I had a pound of pork loin in the freezer, and couldn't decide what to make with it. So I went to trusty ol' Google for some answers and found, and slightly modified, a recipe for Pork & Apple Curry with Coconut Rice. I don't love coconut, or coconut milk, in general but coconut rice is one of my favorite ways to cook rice. The coconut flavoring is just subtle and creamy enough that I can totally get on board. Prepare yourself for some pure awesome.

Pork & Apple Curry (serves 4)

• 1 pound boneless pork loin
• 1 apple, peeled and diced
• 1/4 C OJ
• 1/4 C chicken stock
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 3/4 small onion, chopped
• 1 TBSP curry powder
• 1/2 tsp ginger powder
• 1/2 tsp  cinnamon powder
• optional post-cooking addition: toasted coconut flakes

Throw it all in the slow-cooker on low for 5-6 hours. Prep time of roughly 5 minutes - so easy!

Coconut Rice

• 2 C rice
• 1 3/4 C water
• 1 C coconut milk

Either mix all in a rice cooker (easiest way!) or bring water to a boil in a small pot, then add the rice and coconut milk, cover, and let cook approximately 20 minutes, or until all liquid has evaporated and the rice is tender. 

I ended up with extra pumpkin (though my pup has been enjoying a spoonful in her chow every morning this week) and extra coconut milk. I decided to make a really simple pudding-like dish for dessert this evening. I combined 3/4 C coconut milk, 1 C pumpkin puree, 1 TBSP sugar, 1/2 tsp cinnamon powder, & 1/4 tsp nutmeg (serves 2). Boil until it thickened, and enjoy! This might be my new fave fall dessert. 

Hooray for Fall!

Leadville Trail 100

bring it on Pb100!

I've sat down no less than 5 times to write a recap on this race - and actually came pretty close before accidentally deleting the entire thing. It's kind of hard to wrap up 29+ hours of action, not to mention nearly a year of training and preparation, into a blog post. This run was what I will describe as semi-rad - 29:25:56 (I can even list the milliseconds if so requested, thanks to Leadville providing us with finisher sweatshirts, name and time stamped on the sleeve) isn't a particularly impressive finishing time, but I did what I set out to do. I ran 100 miles. And I kept it pretty easy throughout. Now that's not to say I didn't have some bad spots and fall into some dark places or hurt like hell - I did all of those things. Multiple times. But I also didn't really push to breaking, or run my hardest. I just sort of let the run play out in front of me, let my legs slowly unwind until the finish line was in sight, and enjoy the experience as much as I could.

Leadville Trail 100 starts at the ungodly hour of 4am. 2:30am my alarm blared at me, and I awoke feeling sort of hazy. You know that feeling on Christmas morning, back when you were a kid? You'd awake knowing you should be feeling all kinds of excited and antsy, but it would take a few seconds to remember why exactly you were feeling that way. That's what waking up on the morning of the Pb100 felt like - if Christmas was one of those whiffle ball bats ready to bash your legs and back and shoulders and arms and head repeatedly for nearly 30 hours.

breakfasting at 3am

about to head to the start line

Breakfast was bacon, eggs, toast, fruit, and lots of delicious coffee with Kristel's and my crew. After stuffing our faces for a while, we made our way out the door and down to the cluster-fuck that is the start line. But seriously - the starting area was gated off from the crowds, with 900 runners lined up en masse. It felt kind of like a bunch of cattle being herded through the shoot. Kristel and I snuck in to the crowds and 5 minutes later, the race was off to an anticlimactic start and we were clipping off pretty pedestrian miles down 6th street, before turning onto a dirt road on our way to Turquoise Lake and AS#1 - May Queen. I immediately, unfortunately, fell in line with a dark shadow that would haunt me for the better part of the first 40 miles. It didn't matter how much I sped up or slowed down - she was there. The perkiest girl alive. This chick was chattering away at 4am, with anyone who would listen, telling her whole life story and narrating every move of her run.

TL outbound, dreaming of a time
when I wasn't running

I rolled into May Queen at 6:30am or so, right on the slower end of my schedule, but also really grumpy from having to listen to that girl chatter away for the first 2.5 hours of my day. I handed over a light jacket, my headlamp, and arm warmers to my crew and swapped out my gel flask for a full one. May Queen seemed to be the only AS of the race that I was able to get in and out of with any level of rapidity. Out to Twin Lakes (outbound), I pretty much ran a lot, walked a bit, volleyed back and forth with Alan Smith for a while, and trudged up the climb out of Half Pipe that continued on most of the way to the Mt Elbert Mini Aid Station (basically a water drop operated by CamelBak). I came in to Twin Lakes, some hot spots forming on my feet, still pretty much right on pace. My crew taped up my feet and set me up with dry socks (proved pointless 10 minutes later as I forded a river) to stave off blisters. I picked back up arm warmers in case it got cold over the top of Hope Pass, a 10 oz handheld of coke, some nutella, and set out for Hope Pass. As I was walking out of the Aid Station, Mindy walked with me for a ways, giving me one of the greatest pep talks I have ever received.

Making Hope Pass my be-otch for the 2nd time that day
Photo Cred: M. Genauer

The 21 miles I spent on Hope Pass were hands down my favorite of the entire race. I'd driven out to Leadville twice over the summer to run Hope Pass, and had made my way out and back on the Twin Lakes side of the the trail twice, and about halfway down the decline on the Winfield side once. I felt really comfortable on the trail, and had a huge burst of energy and positivity on my way up. It was fun to see the leaders cruising down and get to cheer on some (much faster) friends from Fort Collins, both running and pacing, as I was on my way up. Passing the llamas at the Hopeless Aid Station was just fun, and hitting the top of Hope Pass and taking off running downhill felt amazing. I kept up a controlled easy jog (except over the talus rock sections that I tend to roll my ankle running over) all the way down the 3 miles or so of descent until the trail leveled out to runnable rollers. I started to feel a bit nauseous or light-headed around this section - just generally not great - so I walked a bit more than I might otherwise have needed. I ran pretty much my exact planned split into Winfield - about 4 hours flat. I walked into the aid station to find Rob and Mike and started crying, from some combination of relief, exhaustion, and who knows what else. Rob looked at me hard and told me to buck up, "there is no crying in ultra running." After a few gasping breaths, I pulled myself together, and requested a bit of additional foot care and another sock change to readdress the still lingering hot spots, and a gear swap to pack my needed gear into Mike's pack as he would be muling for me over Hope Pass. Mike came prepped with some awesomely awful bad jokes and lots of chatter to distract me from the hike back over Hope Pass. My legs weren't that tired, and other than a few spots where I paused to catch my breath on the ascent, I felt really good on the return trip over Hope Pass. We reached Twin Lakes a solid hour ahead of schedule - 3:11 as opposed to my goal time of 4:10. I lost some of that time back at the Aid Station re-taping my feet and collecting the gear I needed for the next 17 or so miles.

Swapping out Pacers at TL (return)

Cat and I headed out from Twin Lakes, headlamps lit, back up the climb to the Mt Elbert Mini AS and then down into Half Pipe. Somewhere along the way, my achilles tendon on my left foot and the tendon running across my first metatarsal on the same foot began to ache pretty severely and I started walking more and more, even though my legs still felt pretty good. Coming in to Outward Bound (Fish Hatchery), it was getting cold. In the AS, I filled up my 10 oz flask with hot water and chicken broth and pulled on a pair of running tights since my legs were getting so cold it was hard to move well. After a brief break to warm-up, Cat and I were off again for the never-ending climb up Pipeline. Seriously though - it felt like this climb was going to go on for the rest of my life. Memory is a funny thing too - I really didn't remember the descent off of Sugarloaf pass being that steep or that long. It flew by pretty quickly. Somehow, I missed the multiple false summits and winding endlessness that is this climb when I was running down it. And the same thing happened with the section of Colorado Trail from the turn-off from the jeep road following Pipeline into May Queen. A couple of miles out from May Queen, I decided I was finished with this run. Not DNF finished, but just an "I am so tired of running and this isn't fun anymore" finished.

I came through May Queen at 5:45am, an hour ahead of the cut-off and with 4:15 to trudge the final 13.5 miles. I passed off my bottles for a refill of water and coke, grabbed a dixie cup of potato chips topped with m&ms and walked on, towards the finish line. I really just wanted to be finished. Rob Erskine was taking over pacing duties for Cat, and in short order, he'd caught back up to me with some extra potato chips and my filled bottles. Though my handheld of coke was mixed pretty disgustingly with old chicken broth. To illustrate my level of not caring, I drank it. It was gross. Really gross. And I finished it all. A few miles along the trail around Turquoise Lake later, with the other side of the lake still depressingly far away, I broke down and decided to run. And found that it wasn't really that bad. It would take a few (hundred) mincing painful steps to settle into a rhythm, but once I got there, I found I could hold it for a long while. As long as the terrain didn't change too significantly. At the Tabor Boat Ramp, we heard a couple of different possible mileages and it was actually looking like we might be able to make it to the finish line before 9am. Unfortunately, that mileage estimate was a couple miles shorter than actual. And after 40 minutes of solid running, we'd only covered a "half mile" according to updated (probably more accurate) mileage estimates. That was discouraging. But on I ran, or more realistically, shuffled towards the finish line. At 8:15, I had 4 miles to go, pretty much all uphill. Rob deserves a huge thank you for putting up with me, especially over those last 4 miles, when I don't remember mustering any energy for anything but an eye roll at the relentless climbing, and I doubt my "run" pace topped 14 minute miles.

my ridiculous crew and pacers (minus my dad, the photographer), walking me in to the finish.

the guys and me, at the finish

My crew found me at the turn-off onto 6th Street and ran/walked the last mile in to the finish line with me. Being genuinely ridiculous. Across the finish line, I grabbed my medal, flowers, and stood for the weigh-in to ensure I hadn't lost too much weight over the past 30 hours. I hung around the finish area for a while watching more finishers come through, and cheering on Alan Smith as he finished in 29:45. I limped back to the house, into the shower, and onto the floor for a nap.

Palisade Peach and Spring Kite veggie pizza

To cap this off, I want to give a HUGE thank you to my crew, pacers, and those people I peppered with a hundred thousand questions along the way. Cat, Mike, and Rob Erskine - thank you so much for your awesome pacing and crewing. Mom, Dad, and Rob Howard - thanks for being out there to crew and cheer me on! Scott - it was so much fun to have you at the finish line to run in that last mile with, capping off the ridiculousness of my crew. And thanks to Pete and Kristel for training with me, lending me gear as needed, answering a million questions about running 100s, and generally putting up with me stressing out for months over my decision to actually register for one of these crazy runs. Oh and a thank you to Meghan and Michael at Spring Kite Farms for a delicious "congrats on finishing Leadville" bag of Palisade Peaches - yumm! (and I'm sure I forgot about a whole bunch of people, so thanks for whatever awesome contributions you had)