2011 - approximately 900 miles raced
A Grand Slam Summer, well almost...
The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning award is recognition for those who complete four of the oldest 100 mile trail runs in the U.S in the same summer. The "Slam" consists of officially finishing the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run, the Leadville Trail 100 Mile Run and the Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run.
Western States Prelude 6-5-11
Dear Running Friends:
You would know I have that precious WS100 entry out there that comes due in 20 days. Not much running out there for me the last couple of months, mostly limping and working all the angles on rehabing this bad foot. How do run 100 miles when you can't go down steps or jump on one foot with an atrophied leg? Pretty cool challenge actually! Dress rehearsal yesterday, 50 mile Goretex trail run- Started in last place, went to the parking lot after the start even, to gather some more gear. Trot, trot, easy, easy. After about 15 miles, eased into one vitamin I per hour, and a goo every 30 minutes. Yippee! Started running, running on running memory legs. It was not fast, but it was the greatest. Nope, no PW today. But trash talkin is back in season! Negative split, 8:45 and I could have done it twice, just ask me.
WS is on, it's game day. It is a great day to run all day.
HP
You would know I have that precious WS100 entry out there that comes due in 20 days. Not much running out there for me the last couple of months, mostly limping and working all the angles on rehabing this bad foot. How do run 100 miles when you can't go down steps or jump on one foot with an atrophied leg? Pretty cool challenge actually! Dress rehearsal yesterday, 50 mile Goretex trail run- Started in last place, went to the parking lot after the start even, to gather some more gear. Trot, trot, easy, easy. After about 15 miles, eased into one vitamin I per hour, and a goo every 30 minutes. Yippee! Started running, running on running memory legs. It was not fast, but it was the greatest. Nope, no PW today. But trash talkin is back in season! Negative split, 8:45 and I could have done it twice, just ask me.
WS is on, it's game day. It is a great day to run all day.
HP
A Vacation at the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run
Western States is the first, the oldest, and the most famous 100 mile run. You may know the story. It was the 100 mile horse race where the guy named Gordy Ainsleigh had a horse go lame, and so he ran the course instead, which started it all, back in 1974. And now, no one like us can get in this run because we are one of the thousands of ultrarunners trying to win a lottery entry. Blah, blah, blah- this is somebody’s else’s race, only elites and randoms get in, whatever, who cares…
Well, after a couple of years of applying for lottery entry to the WS100, I was picked for this year’s run! How about that?! I circled June 25th on my running calendar, we are going to Squaw Valley!
The first challenge was my left foot. After years of nearly invincible health, I came up lame in March. This is the status with 3 weeks to go:
I had been limping a little and the left leg was atrophied to match the swollen foot. But you know, it is THE Western States, and you may not get to go again. So get out of the boot, and into the trail shoes, we go. No limping, no whining, and my running prayers were answered. I focused on perfect POSE, and I was running, not limping; and my attitude was good, really good. I will guarantee a finish by the 29:59 cutoff, but that is about it. It would be unrealistic for me to expect a strong performance without training much, especially missing hill training. So, this will be a vacation- enjoy trotting all day, making friends, running on a historic trail, and just take what the day gives me.
My stellar runner daughter Kaylyn (who would be pacing me from mile 62) and I arrived a couple days early to Squaw Valley to 90+ F hot and sunny weather. There was still lots of snow and roaring water in the mountains, as the mountains had a record 800+ inches of snow this winter. Very cool!
After a quick couple of days of acclimating, trash talking, and hanging in saloons, it was time to run.
We got up at 3 AM, ceremoniously wished Gordy Ainsleigh and Cowman A-Moo-Ha a great run (kind of like rubbing Johnny U’s toe), and before long, it’s 5AM and “GO”! We are off, power walking the first 3 miles and 2000 feet of gain. Then it’s fifteen miles of glacial trotting and slipping on Bunyon sized slanted and sun scalloped ice fields. Lost a couple runners to bloody falls, but most of us were enjoying the slow going on the ice.
After wading through a thigh deep, icy creek, we descended far enough to leave most of the snow. Do you remember the big California fires in 2008, and the cancelation of the Western States run that year? We ran a few miles through that area which included another big, hot, climb. Aaaahhhh, it felt good to find my land legs. It is The Western States, we had already traveled 30 miles and this is what I came for. Yippee, time to do some real running! I hung it out there a little, getting my oats, passing a few dozen runners, running and running like I hadn’t since March. Uh, oh,… I don’t feel so good, where is the next aid station?! Hot, thirsty, taxed, tagged. Where is that next aid station?!! Finally, I staggered into the oasis, and plopped myself down in the dreaded chair, dumped ice in the hat, shirt, scarf, tummy, and water bottles. Way to go, Hank. I invested about 15 minutes in that chair, and walked out of there in the sun and heat. Ha, ha, I guess I will let those lesser runners go for now, and won’t misbehave again for a.. w..h..i..l..e.
The next 2 climbs are Devil’s Thumb (mile 48) and Michigan Bluff (mile 56), hot and famous sections that have ended the day for many runners over the years. It was a cool year according to most, but not to this air conditioned Marylander. Almost 2000 feet of climbing for each, I power walked them both, still respectful of that last overheating spat. Running down, down, down into the canyon below Michigan Bluff, I almost stepped on a good sized rattle snake. Pissed him off good. He rattled and lunged at me a couple times, I think he bit my shoe. I wouldn’t want to do that again.
It is now the mile 56 medical check in and aid station, and so far I have fooled around trotting in the snow, disrespected the heat and come back, survived a snake attack, hung out at the aid stations, and my quads are barking on the descents from being undertrained. I was at a modest 26-28 hour pace and hungry. I ate plenty, gunned down a couple of ensures, and waddled out of there. Yucckkk, I don’t feel so good, I think I ate too much. Way to go, again, rookie. A couple trips in the woods to lighten the load, and it’s another slow hour of recovery, walking, and trotting.
A couple more miles to Foresthill (mile 62), and Kaylyn will be there to join me for the rest of the run. Homesick and feeling better, I started running. Really. This time, I am running for real, passing people, and I am looking good, just ask me. Breeze into mile 62, and get and give a big hug from K, and off we go. K believes in her Dad, right from the go. We can break 24 hours, she says. Priceless. I hadn’t thought of that in a while, but it was a no brainer. Bring it, it’s game day. We ran like the cops were chasing us, except with headlamps and water bottles, running a 20 hour pace from mile 62 until we couldn’t do it any longer (which ended up being about mile 85). We spent plenty of time in each aid station, where we trash talked as I drank broth, noodles, and ginger ale, and caught my breath. And, I sat down plenty, because I wanted to. We smoked past scores of other runners, only to watch them trot by at an aid station, and then we get to smoke ‘em again. What a great run this Western States is! This picture is of us in the raft that takes you across the flooding river at Rucky Chucky, mile 78:
Somewhere between mile 85 and 90 we figured we just weren’t quite going to make 24 hours, and so we got off the gas a little. About the same time, K realized she was setting a PR for distance. And, the running Gods stepped in again, and reminded her that she might want to eat, drink, take electrolytes, stuff like that. It is great to be young, enjoy those leg cramps, bonking! So, from there to the finish, it was recovery time again for Team Peck, walking the uphills, moving with the flow of runners again, enjoying the sunrise. And, a most enjoyable finish.
As ultra runs go, Western States has the deepest field of talent, outrageously beautiful scenery, great giveaways, enthusiastic volunteers, and over the top organization. There is nothing not to like, except it is inconveniently hard to get in. There are even great runners offering and getting in line to pace. If you need a pacer for your WS100 run, I am ready, call me. In the meantime, I am feeling the need for speed, and it would be nice to get that 24 hour silver buckle. Maybe lightning will strike twice, and my number will come up again.
2011 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, 420 Runners, 310 Finishers
25 hours, 50 minutes, 148th place
Western States is the first, the oldest, and the most famous 100 mile run. You may know the story. It was the 100 mile horse race where the guy named Gordy Ainsleigh had a horse go lame, and so he ran the course instead, which started it all, back in 1974. And now, no one like us can get in this run because we are one of the thousands of ultrarunners trying to win a lottery entry. Blah, blah, blah- this is somebody’s else’s race, only elites and randoms get in, whatever, who cares…
Well, after a couple of years of applying for lottery entry to the WS100, I was picked for this year’s run! How about that?! I circled June 25th on my running calendar, we are going to Squaw Valley!
The first challenge was my left foot. After years of nearly invincible health, I came up lame in March. This is the status with 3 weeks to go:
I had been limping a little and the left leg was atrophied to match the swollen foot. But you know, it is THE Western States, and you may not get to go again. So get out of the boot, and into the trail shoes, we go. No limping, no whining, and my running prayers were answered. I focused on perfect POSE, and I was running, not limping; and my attitude was good, really good. I will guarantee a finish by the 29:59 cutoff, but that is about it. It would be unrealistic for me to expect a strong performance without training much, especially missing hill training. So, this will be a vacation- enjoy trotting all day, making friends, running on a historic trail, and just take what the day gives me.
My stellar runner daughter Kaylyn (who would be pacing me from mile 62) and I arrived a couple days early to Squaw Valley to 90+ F hot and sunny weather. There was still lots of snow and roaring water in the mountains, as the mountains had a record 800+ inches of snow this winter. Very cool!
After a quick couple of days of acclimating, trash talking, and hanging in saloons, it was time to run.
We got up at 3 AM, ceremoniously wished Gordy Ainsleigh and Cowman A-Moo-Ha a great run (kind of like rubbing Johnny U’s toe), and before long, it’s 5AM and “GO”! We are off, power walking the first 3 miles and 2000 feet of gain. Then it’s fifteen miles of glacial trotting and slipping on Bunyon sized slanted and sun scalloped ice fields. Lost a couple runners to bloody falls, but most of us were enjoying the slow going on the ice.
After wading through a thigh deep, icy creek, we descended far enough to leave most of the snow. Do you remember the big California fires in 2008, and the cancelation of the Western States run that year? We ran a few miles through that area which included another big, hot, climb. Aaaahhhh, it felt good to find my land legs. It is The Western States, we had already traveled 30 miles and this is what I came for. Yippee, time to do some real running! I hung it out there a little, getting my oats, passing a few dozen runners, running and running like I hadn’t since March. Uh, oh,… I don’t feel so good, where is the next aid station?! Hot, thirsty, taxed, tagged. Where is that next aid station?!! Finally, I staggered into the oasis, and plopped myself down in the dreaded chair, dumped ice in the hat, shirt, scarf, tummy, and water bottles. Way to go, Hank. I invested about 15 minutes in that chair, and walked out of there in the sun and heat. Ha, ha, I guess I will let those lesser runners go for now, and won’t misbehave again for a.. w..h..i..l..e.
The next 2 climbs are Devil’s Thumb (mile 48) and Michigan Bluff (mile 56), hot and famous sections that have ended the day for many runners over the years. It was a cool year according to most, but not to this air conditioned Marylander. Almost 2000 feet of climbing for each, I power walked them both, still respectful of that last overheating spat. Running down, down, down into the canyon below Michigan Bluff, I almost stepped on a good sized rattle snake. Pissed him off good. He rattled and lunged at me a couple times, I think he bit my shoe. I wouldn’t want to do that again.
It is now the mile 56 medical check in and aid station, and so far I have fooled around trotting in the snow, disrespected the heat and come back, survived a snake attack, hung out at the aid stations, and my quads are barking on the descents from being undertrained. I was at a modest 26-28 hour pace and hungry. I ate plenty, gunned down a couple of ensures, and waddled out of there. Yucckkk, I don’t feel so good, I think I ate too much. Way to go, again, rookie. A couple trips in the woods to lighten the load, and it’s another slow hour of recovery, walking, and trotting.
A couple more miles to Foresthill (mile 62), and Kaylyn will be there to join me for the rest of the run. Homesick and feeling better, I started running. Really. This time, I am running for real, passing people, and I am looking good, just ask me. Breeze into mile 62, and get and give a big hug from K, and off we go. K believes in her Dad, right from the go. We can break 24 hours, she says. Priceless. I hadn’t thought of that in a while, but it was a no brainer. Bring it, it’s game day. We ran like the cops were chasing us, except with headlamps and water bottles, running a 20 hour pace from mile 62 until we couldn’t do it any longer (which ended up being about mile 85). We spent plenty of time in each aid station, where we trash talked as I drank broth, noodles, and ginger ale, and caught my breath. And, I sat down plenty, because I wanted to. We smoked past scores of other runners, only to watch them trot by at an aid station, and then we get to smoke ‘em again. What a great run this Western States is! This picture is of us in the raft that takes you across the flooding river at Rucky Chucky, mile 78:
Somewhere between mile 85 and 90 we figured we just weren’t quite going to make 24 hours, and so we got off the gas a little. About the same time, K realized she was setting a PR for distance. And, the running Gods stepped in again, and reminded her that she might want to eat, drink, take electrolytes, stuff like that. It is great to be young, enjoy those leg cramps, bonking! So, from there to the finish, it was recovery time again for Team Peck, walking the uphills, moving with the flow of runners again, enjoying the sunrise. And, a most enjoyable finish.
As ultra runs go, Western States has the deepest field of talent, outrageously beautiful scenery, great giveaways, enthusiastic volunteers, and over the top organization. There is nothing not to like, except it is inconveniently hard to get in. There are even great runners offering and getting in line to pace. If you need a pacer for your WS100 run, I am ready, call me. In the meantime, I am feeling the need for speed, and it would be nice to get that 24 hour silver buckle. Maybe lightning will strike twice, and my number will come up again.
2011 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, 420 Runners, 310 Finishers
25 hours, 50 minutes, 148th place
With pacer, Kaylyn! Last 0.25 mile of WS100 historically goes around a local high school track.
PR at Vermont 2011
Henry and aid station chairs decided to break off their long lasting friendship.
Deadville Leadville 100
I am sorry to behind writing to you, running friends! I owe so many of you a thanks, or explanation, or race report, so, collectively, here you go!
"You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!"
I arrived in Leadville on Tuesday before the Saturday race and first thing, parked at a trailhead, switched into running stuff, carried a jacket, couple of Gatorades, and hauled to the top of Mt Elbert and back. Power hiked up, trotted down, 3 hrs and 9 minutes round trip, 14,400 ft, 2nd highest peak in the continental 48. The air is thin, the thunder in the clouds going by gets your attention. And, on Wednesday, I did the up and back to Hope Pass, the high point of the Leadville Trail 100 course. Still no problems, took it easy, the air is thin, just power hike with a little trotting on the climb up, and all easy running down, less than 3 hours round trip. A few hours of altitude exercise is just work, no problems, I am good at this.
A couple more days of rest, hang with running friends like Micah True, Ted McDonald, Maria Walton, and my pacer/crew/awesome runner/son Graham. Eat, drink, acclimate, in Leadville, elevation 10,200 ft.
On Saturday I am ready to run 100 miles. I have slept well, I am not hurt (thanks to the pixie dust provided by buddy and the world’s best PT, Barry Hooper), I am in good running shape, and my attitude is fit to be tied. The only thing in the background, is I am a little sleepy and tired all the time, which I attribute to not being acclimated, the body is still working hard to get those blood cells right, something like that.
It is a good year for me to do the LT100. In the last year I have run about 15 ultra runs, including about 5 wks ago ran the Vermont 100 in 20:35 (on 3 wks rest from Western States 100). Much of LT is runable, and not hot, which is good for my skill set. The plan is not complicated, or ambitious. I have not been to Leadville before, and don’t have any reason to squeeze time out of the course, just let the race come to me. Go easy, easy, protect my quads on the downs, just power walk the ups, eat and drink like me, let’s get it on. My peer group is 23-25 hours. 25 hours gets you the big buckle, 30 hours is the final cutoff and gets you the little buckle. Let’s have a great time!
If you have been to the Leadville Trail 100, you have heard these words made famous by the iconic race director Ken Chlouber. Ken defines the LT100 as much as those big buckles. At 4AM, Saturday morning at the start of the race, Ken works us into a frenzy, one last time, chanting "You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!" I wasn’t born yesterday, and participating in this group yelling was just going with the flow, enjoying the hometown traditions, carrying on. I know how to carry on.
Off we go, easy peasy. But then it starts happening. Oh, no! After about 3 or 4 hours we climb Sugarloaf for the first time, and I am gassing, panting a little too much. It is not just the thin air, I know better. My running peers, John, Nate, Cleveland, Kansas City, Kelly,…….. get away, “good bye”. (Congrats, again) Ok, this is going to get interesting! Oh, well. I put the gas all the way down, and am gasping, going backwards. There is no changing the cards dealt today. You hustled the application and get lucky to book a race like this months in advance- qualifying, airlines, hard to get rooms, and Graham is here. I don’t whine, I got over that so long ago, I can’t remember when. And, there is just no stopping due to this lung disease, lack of acclimation, having a bad time, blah, blah. Besides, it is beautiful out-` a little warm, bright mountain sun, snow streaked Colorado peaks in every direction. I feel great, except for this panting problem. Going hard is the only move, I have practiced for 40 years, my chances are as good as anyone. Go hard until you either make it, or until the cutoffs pull you out or the medicals cut your tag. You know, find out what happens.
I am nerding out, digging this problem, and it is getting worse! By mile 25, I can’t trot continuously on flat pavement slow enough to not take short gasping breaks. That is so not right! Why is this happening to me?! Who am I?! What a bad patch this is, an awesome challenge! Hours go by and I pick up Graham at mile 50, only a little less than 2 hours before the cutoff time, and he is priceless to have on the team. Muling is allowed, and he can and does haul every stitch of clothing, ounce of drink, for me. I am busting my chops up and over the 2600 ft rise over Hope Pass and back. Mile 40 to 60 takes 8 hours! Gasping, stepping, driving, it is work, work, work. After mile 60, we get out the lights. Graham makes perfect walking poles from sticks. Spot on, saving much time. We waste no time in aid stations, avoid the medical friends, I am going the bathroom along the trail, all but peeing my pants, and still pounding fluids and calories. G kicks ass, we are an outstanding team.
By mile 70 there is this ominous vocal sound on the inbound of my breathing. Not loud, not painful, and not controllable. I have been there before, having caught some of that wheezing at Wasatch last year, it cost me at least a couple hours, and privately some pride- this time it is worse, no covering it up, and worsening. It takes more than 2 hours for us to get up the Powerline and Sugarloaf, at about mile 80. That is slow stepping, leaning on those sticks, lots of falling on my ass, and “are you ok’s?” from runners going past. As far as I can tell, the great Leadville runners are enjoying seeing me smiling and having a bloody good time; and, Graham believes. Priceless.
I have been through many endurance challenges, but not like this one. We are running the downs, staggering the ups, walk/trotting the flats, and passing no one, and we may join the half the field does not make the cutoff times at LT100. Graham is doing the close math for the headroom on that. We are all business, staggering on past the aid stations, while Graham does the business- we need to get to the finish as soon as possible, we have no choice!
About mile 90, it is getting ridiculous. I am down for the 100th+ time and for the first time, thinking what happens if I don’t get my breath back when laying down. I am not quite pooping my pants, maybe peeing my pants, my hands are numbing from swelling, my hat won’t fit, my socks don’t match, there is duct tape on my feet, it is dawn and 40f out, and I only have a single mucous and mud stained layer on…. and runners are still saying, “You look great!” Hee, hee, definitely got what I came for, luckiest person in the world – cracking up maybe, but in the selfish happy zone. The mind is somewhere between going and gone and we are closing in on miracle time. We might not make it, the 30 hour math is not good. Graham reads the inspiring txts from my buddy Ruthanne, and I now know that Ken is right, "You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!" A gracious runner and angel appears and offers me her inhaler. I gobble up all there is in it, violently cough a few chunks up, and am carefully power hiking and trotting again. Somehow, we are matching time with the others now, and celebrate making it in 29 h and 31 minutes, 29 minutes to spare. About 293rd place, about 700 starters and 350 finishers, another PW for me.
Some can kick the acclimation better than others. I am an other. Blame it on my parents and/or 40 years of abusing the lungs, whatever. Look, I can do this in 23-25 hours, just a fact. Easy peasy. It will take just a few weeks acclimation, or, one of those tents to live in, or, getting on the EPO, or, hooked up with blood doping would do it. But acclimating for a few weeks, or living in a tent, is not my priority, sorry. This is running, not religion!
So for now, the little buckle looks good on me.
HP
PS Dear Leadville, Way to Go! That was a great race! Let’s call it a tie, you almost had me. Next time, Graham may handle the rematch and there will be no prisoners.
"You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!"
I arrived in Leadville on Tuesday before the Saturday race and first thing, parked at a trailhead, switched into running stuff, carried a jacket, couple of Gatorades, and hauled to the top of Mt Elbert and back. Power hiked up, trotted down, 3 hrs and 9 minutes round trip, 14,400 ft, 2nd highest peak in the continental 48. The air is thin, the thunder in the clouds going by gets your attention. And, on Wednesday, I did the up and back to Hope Pass, the high point of the Leadville Trail 100 course. Still no problems, took it easy, the air is thin, just power hike with a little trotting on the climb up, and all easy running down, less than 3 hours round trip. A few hours of altitude exercise is just work, no problems, I am good at this.
A couple more days of rest, hang with running friends like Micah True, Ted McDonald, Maria Walton, and my pacer/crew/awesome runner/son Graham. Eat, drink, acclimate, in Leadville, elevation 10,200 ft.
On Saturday I am ready to run 100 miles. I have slept well, I am not hurt (thanks to the pixie dust provided by buddy and the world’s best PT, Barry Hooper), I am in good running shape, and my attitude is fit to be tied. The only thing in the background, is I am a little sleepy and tired all the time, which I attribute to not being acclimated, the body is still working hard to get those blood cells right, something like that.
It is a good year for me to do the LT100. In the last year I have run about 15 ultra runs, including about 5 wks ago ran the Vermont 100 in 20:35 (on 3 wks rest from Western States 100). Much of LT is runable, and not hot, which is good for my skill set. The plan is not complicated, or ambitious. I have not been to Leadville before, and don’t have any reason to squeeze time out of the course, just let the race come to me. Go easy, easy, protect my quads on the downs, just power walk the ups, eat and drink like me, let’s get it on. My peer group is 23-25 hours. 25 hours gets you the big buckle, 30 hours is the final cutoff and gets you the little buckle. Let’s have a great time!
If you have been to the Leadville Trail 100, you have heard these words made famous by the iconic race director Ken Chlouber. Ken defines the LT100 as much as those big buckles. At 4AM, Saturday morning at the start of the race, Ken works us into a frenzy, one last time, chanting "You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!" I wasn’t born yesterday, and participating in this group yelling was just going with the flow, enjoying the hometown traditions, carrying on. I know how to carry on.
Off we go, easy peasy. But then it starts happening. Oh, no! After about 3 or 4 hours we climb Sugarloaf for the first time, and I am gassing, panting a little too much. It is not just the thin air, I know better. My running peers, John, Nate, Cleveland, Kansas City, Kelly,…….. get away, “good bye”. (Congrats, again) Ok, this is going to get interesting! Oh, well. I put the gas all the way down, and am gasping, going backwards. There is no changing the cards dealt today. You hustled the application and get lucky to book a race like this months in advance- qualifying, airlines, hard to get rooms, and Graham is here. I don’t whine, I got over that so long ago, I can’t remember when. And, there is just no stopping due to this lung disease, lack of acclimation, having a bad time, blah, blah. Besides, it is beautiful out-` a little warm, bright mountain sun, snow streaked Colorado peaks in every direction. I feel great, except for this panting problem. Going hard is the only move, I have practiced for 40 years, my chances are as good as anyone. Go hard until you either make it, or until the cutoffs pull you out or the medicals cut your tag. You know, find out what happens.
I am nerding out, digging this problem, and it is getting worse! By mile 25, I can’t trot continuously on flat pavement slow enough to not take short gasping breaks. That is so not right! Why is this happening to me?! Who am I?! What a bad patch this is, an awesome challenge! Hours go by and I pick up Graham at mile 50, only a little less than 2 hours before the cutoff time, and he is priceless to have on the team. Muling is allowed, and he can and does haul every stitch of clothing, ounce of drink, for me. I am busting my chops up and over the 2600 ft rise over Hope Pass and back. Mile 40 to 60 takes 8 hours! Gasping, stepping, driving, it is work, work, work. After mile 60, we get out the lights. Graham makes perfect walking poles from sticks. Spot on, saving much time. We waste no time in aid stations, avoid the medical friends, I am going the bathroom along the trail, all but peeing my pants, and still pounding fluids and calories. G kicks ass, we are an outstanding team.
By mile 70 there is this ominous vocal sound on the inbound of my breathing. Not loud, not painful, and not controllable. I have been there before, having caught some of that wheezing at Wasatch last year, it cost me at least a couple hours, and privately some pride- this time it is worse, no covering it up, and worsening. It takes more than 2 hours for us to get up the Powerline and Sugarloaf, at about mile 80. That is slow stepping, leaning on those sticks, lots of falling on my ass, and “are you ok’s?” from runners going past. As far as I can tell, the great Leadville runners are enjoying seeing me smiling and having a bloody good time; and, Graham believes. Priceless.
I have been through many endurance challenges, but not like this one. We are running the downs, staggering the ups, walk/trotting the flats, and passing no one, and we may join the half the field does not make the cutoff times at LT100. Graham is doing the close math for the headroom on that. We are all business, staggering on past the aid stations, while Graham does the business- we need to get to the finish as soon as possible, we have no choice!
About mile 90, it is getting ridiculous. I am down for the 100th+ time and for the first time, thinking what happens if I don’t get my breath back when laying down. I am not quite pooping my pants, maybe peeing my pants, my hands are numbing from swelling, my hat won’t fit, my socks don’t match, there is duct tape on my feet, it is dawn and 40f out, and I only have a single mucous and mud stained layer on…. and runners are still saying, “You look great!” Hee, hee, definitely got what I came for, luckiest person in the world – cracking up maybe, but in the selfish happy zone. The mind is somewhere between going and gone and we are closing in on miracle time. We might not make it, the 30 hour math is not good. Graham reads the inspiring txts from my buddy Ruthanne, and I now know that Ken is right, "You are better than you think you are, and you can do more than you think you can!" A gracious runner and angel appears and offers me her inhaler. I gobble up all there is in it, violently cough a few chunks up, and am carefully power hiking and trotting again. Somehow, we are matching time with the others now, and celebrate making it in 29 h and 31 minutes, 29 minutes to spare. About 293rd place, about 700 starters and 350 finishers, another PW for me.
Some can kick the acclimation better than others. I am an other. Blame it on my parents and/or 40 years of abusing the lungs, whatever. Look, I can do this in 23-25 hours, just a fact. Easy peasy. It will take just a few weeks acclimation, or, one of those tents to live in, or, getting on the EPO, or, hooked up with blood doping would do it. But acclimating for a few weeks, or living in a tent, is not my priority, sorry. This is running, not religion!
So for now, the little buckle looks good on me.
HP
PS Dear Leadville, Way to Go! That was a great race! Let’s call it a tie, you almost had me. Next time, Graham may handle the rematch and there will be no prisoners.
Ragnar Relay 2011
BRRC Ultra Team- Runs Well with Others (Christian Creutzer, Serge Arbona, Henry Peck, Jeffrey Abando, Tamara Pitard, and Erin Sanders) finishing the 202.1 mile relay in 27 hours 10 minutes.
See Erin's blogs!
See Erin's blogs!
Wineglass Marathon
Richmond Marathon
JFK 50 miler
Happy first time completion and memory tears with good friend, Sara Urbanczyk!
