Leadville Trail Marathon 2007

Why I chose to run this marathon will always be a bit of a mystery to me. After all, I didn’t really need another marathon in my spring training cycle; I had already run the Georgia Marathon in March, Boston in April, Fargo in May, and the Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon in South Dakota in early June. I didn’t need another Colorado Marathon in my quest for a marathon in each of the fifty states; I already had two marathons in Steamboat Springs and two in Denver. I didn’t need a demanding mountain trail race; I had already run the Pikes Peak Ascent many years consecutively (including a registration for that race for the following month), along with the Imogene Pass Race and the Golden Leaf Half Marathon, both grueling runs at altitude.

In the end, I suppose I chose to run Leadville for the same reason that Sir Edmund Hilary chose to climb his mountain: because it was there.

Because my entry in the race came late, on a whim, I end up approaching it solo. Why ask anyone to join me when the whole thing is lunacy to begin with? Lucky for me, Nattu Natraj is also running this race, and I’ve asked him if we might run the first part of it together. Nattu just started running a few years back, and after we met through a running message board, I ended up cheering him on in his first half marathon up in Fort Collins. He was a complete newby back then. He’s a completely changed runner today, at the beginning of July 2007. By now, he’s completed many marathons, but his claim to fame is his performance in several of the most difficult ultramarathons on the planet, including the Marathon des Sables, a week long multi-stage run through the Moroccan desert, and the Badwater 135 last summer. Right now, he’s getting ready for his second assault on the Badwater 135 later in July. I count myself lucky to have him agree to run a bit of this race with me.

Race morning comes early, but it’s a rare treat to wake up (even though extremely early) in my own bed. It’s late enough when I leave home that I can grab a scone and coffee from the local Starbucks, and the traffic on the way to Leadville is pretty much non-existent. When I arrive at the race start, I park right in front of the race headquarters, and I’m one of the first people inside picking up my packet. The whole vibe of the thing (very low key) matches my expectations of my effort on this perfect Colorado summer day. I almost have enough time to take a short nap in my car.

I hook up with Nattu early on, and I’m amazed at the fan club he has developed over the last couple of years. Everyone seems to know him, and he’s generous with introductions. Is this the same guy who was worried about finishing a little half marathon a few years back? Apparently not.

The race starts uphill on a side street in Leadville, and the very small field spreads out quickly. I’ve attached myself to Nattu’s elbow, and I’m thrilled to hear him say “okay, I’m gonna walk now” after we’ve gone just a short distance. I’m all over the walking thing. Even though it’s not far back to the start line, we’re dealing with a pretty steep slope, and – oh yeah, forgot to mention this bit – the race starts at an elevation over 10,000 feet. I’m all for walking, especially if I can foist the idea off on somebody else.

We walk for a while, then we jog for a while, then we walk again. The first mile is mostly paved roads, but soon enough we find the trails and the forest. The trails quickly become single track, and Nattu lets me go in front of him. Trails have always required a lot of attention on my part, and soon I’ve lost contact with Nattu. I am, very naively, thinking that perhaps I’ve dropped the super-ultra-guy. Nattu has talked about how this race is just a training run for him, so he’s not planning to push it. And, after all, the last time we ran a race “together” (the Imogene Pass Run a few years ago), I finished a bit in front of him.

The trail is a bit gnarly, but I manage to “run” much of it. (In this case, “running” – rather than walking - is more of a mindset than a pace.) The race course is essentially an out-and-back, but with a few twists. The first quarter of the out-bound race is all uphill, and after the first mile, it’s on a single track trail through forest. The first aid station is at the top of this section of trail. The second quarter is a rolling loop around Ball Mountain, almost all on narrow single track; after you circumnavigate the loop, you’re right back at the first aid station. The third quarter sends you downhill on a dirt service road behind the old several old mines. The footing on this section of the race is very good, and the downhill feels great to me. The final quarter of the out-bound section is where things get tough. It’s all severely uphill, on a very rocky and rough track that is all exposed, ending at the top of Mosquito Pass at around 13,200 feet of elevation. Then we turn around and do the whole thing in reverse.

I reach the top of the first quarter section feeling okay, and survey the goods on offer at the aid station. Ya gotta admit, the offerings at ultramarathons (although this race is “only” 26.2 miles, it’s sponsored by a group of folks who are used to working ultramarathons) is much better than the offerings at “normal” marathons. There are PB&J sandwiches (cut into bite-size pieces), brownies, homemade chocolate chip cookies, potato chips, pretzels, jelly beans, M&Ms, and a few other foods; along with the normal water and Gatorade and some good ole Coca-Cola and Sprite. I grab some grub, and head out onto the loop.

The loop is tougher than it looks on paper. While you don’t gain or lose any net elevation (after all, you end up right back where you started), you’re constantly going up and down. The loop is mostly exposed, and most of the trail is narrow single track. There are some challenging up-and-down sections on rocks through some trees. One thing about this section is that, when it opens up, you can see the runners around you very clearly. I’m definitely not gaining on anybody. I’m happy to see the first aid station come into view again.

The next quarter section is a delight. Downhill running on a solid, generous surface. Did I say delight? I could do this all day long.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last all day. At the bottom of this section of downhill, there’s another aid station, and it’s kind of like the last fort before heading across the hostile plains. There are people here taking breaks in chairs the volunteers have set up. There’s another fine array of food on offer, and I grab a little bit to eat before crossing the stream that demarks this section of the race.

The last quarter of the outbound section is the place where the wheat separates from the chaff. I am not prepared for this…not at all. The trail – actually, a jeep road – is all loose rock and scree, and the footing is extremely bad. But even moreso, it’s steeply uphill. And, did I mention, we’re approaching truly high elevations here? Partly up this steep grade I start to feel sick, and have to stop to walk. People are passing me, and I’m not surprised at all. The steepness has stopped me in my tracks. People I passed on the downhill section go by me. We’re also just starting to meet people who are on the homeward bound section of their journey. That, in a way, makes me feel better – as if I’m getting closer to the end of my own race. Wait – I’m not even halfway there. I guess I’m jumping the gun.

At some point in this section, Nattu powers by me. He’s looking incredibly strong. I’m feeling incredibly weak. I realize now that I should have known that he’s really got the pacing thing down, and I should have made an effort to stay on his shoulder rather than pushing forward, only to die at this still-rather-early stage of the race. Passing me in the other direction, I see Henry, who works at the Boulder Running Company, and who seems to run many of the same races that I run. I also see Steve Skadron, an Aspen City Council compatriot of Mick’s. I knew that Steve was a runner, but it’s a surprise to see him here today.

Approaching the 13,200’ summit of Mosquito Pass, I find myself light-headed and very much battling the altitude and the uneven footing and the steepness. It’s become very cold up here, with a nasty top-of-the-mountain wind. Still, I power on, and am very happy when I reach the turnaround point. There are a few folks sitting in chairs that the aid station workers up here have set out, and although the thought of sitting is very appealing, I’m more anxious to get down from this altitude and to be done for the day, so I keep moving.

The “back” portion of this out-and-back is more downhill than uphill, but it’s still extremely hard – harder than I have bargained for. The first quarter is now steeply downhill, on very unstable footing. I struggle, and get passed left and right. I’m a pretty good downhill runner on solid footing, but on trails, I suck. I have little choice but to let the other runners go by. Even so, I twist my ankles both multiple times, and end up limping through more of the section than I’d like to admit.

When I hit the solid road of the next section, it’s much better, even if it is pretty much all uphill. A woman Nattu introduced me to earlier today passes me, and it’s clear she’s in much better shape for this than I. I’ve traded places with her a few times, but at this point, she’s dusting me but good.

I love seeing that first aid station again when it comes into view. I grab some vittles and set off on the loop around Ball Mountain, running it in backwards order this time. It’s every bit as hard as I remembered from the first circumnavigation. Even worse, the uneven trail seems much harder this time around. A few more people pass me. I just want this thing to be over.

After grabbing some de-fizzed Coke at the first aid station again, I’m finally on that final quarter back down into Leadville. What surprises me is how long the downhill section through forest goes on. I’m virtually running alone, and, on these tired legs, I’m really afraid of falling. So I run some, and walk some, always taking care with my footing. I’d like to improve as a trail runner, but today I’m guessing that doing that in a 26.2 mile race is not exactly the right strategy. I trade places with another runner a time or two, and it mostly just makes me happy to know I’m not the last person out here.

As we get closer to town, I keep expecting to see Mick. He has told me that he will be here for the finish of the race, and since it’s taking me much longer than my anticipated time, I’m guessing that he will greet me before I get to the finish. Although it seems forever before I find him, it’s still wonderful to see his long lanky profile on his bike at a point where the trail I’m on meets up with the bike path out of town.

Seeing Mick gives me a bit more fuel, and it gives me a huge burst of spirit. Soon, I’m rounding the final turn onto the paved road that will lead me back to the start/finish line. It’s a straight shot from here, and finally the footing is good and solid, and I’m running to beat the clock. It has started to look like I might be on the far side of seven hours on this run today, and that just doesn’t sit well. So I run as hard as I can. There are a few people out at street crossings – there is really no traffic at all – and their cheering buoys me. A block or two from the finish line, I see Nattu out of the corner of my eye, and he yells encouragement to me. He has long since finished his day with a course PR.

One of the most wonderful things about running small races is that, even though the crowds at the finish line are small, you know that the cheers are for you, only you. Today does not disappoint. There are not a lot of people yelling encouragement, but I know that each of them is there for me. I manage to eke out a small margin on the seven hour monster, and finish in 6:55:14. Somebody hangs a medal around my neck, and Mick is there, on his bike. I grab some Gatorade and some food from the finish line assortment of goodies – knowing that I really did earn it all – and then it’s time to head home from this high small town. By the time my car hits the city limits, I’m already trying to figure out how to train for this thing to do better the next time I run it.