Subject: Leadville 2000 report (long)
Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2000 04:58:03 GMT
From: "Barry Fisher" <barfishruns@hotmail.com>

This was my first try at Leadville. I was 3 out of 4 at WS and 0 for 1 at
Angeles Crest. A trend had been detected - if I am badly injured at the
start of a 100, I don't finish it. If the injury is not too bad, I manage to
finish. If there is no injury (only once before at the start of a 100), I
actually enjoy the race.

That's how it played out for Leadville. I started out uninjured and loved
it.

PRE-RACE
With no experience of high altitude running (I live at about 280' above sea
level), I went to the experts and lived off Karl King's advice on how he
handled Leadville with just one week to acclimate; and Dana Roueche's
excellent strategy for finishing Leadville. One difference for me - I chose
to retire from work just six weeks ago (Leadville had nothing to do with
that decision) and I therefore could afford to acclimate for two weeks
instead of just one.

So, following Karl's advice and after leisurely driving from Sacramento,
spending my first two nights in Nevada and Utah at about 5000+ feet in the
back of my vehicle, I drove up to the top of Mt. Evans, some 14,250+ feet
high. Stayed there for 4 hours, slept in the vehicle at Echo Lake at
10,700', returned to Mt. Evans the next morning for another 4 hours and
spent much time with the mountain goats.

That afternoon I drove to Leadville for another night at over 10,000'. And
the following morning, I felt I was ready for my first run over part of the
course. I chose to run between two spots where there would be aid stations -
going from May Queen to the Fish Hatchery and back. Two things stood out
here. One was that on the return journey up Sugar Loaf, I sucked wind and
got dizzy - not acclimated yet! Secondly, I had the good fortune to meet up
with a bunch of rogues - and ended up camping with them for my first week in
Leadville. They had a decidedly scenic (yet unauthorized) camp site out of
town. My time with Bill, Butch, Wayne and Don, all crazy Texans - and
Chaennnon from Southern California - along with their five canine
characters, was something I treasured. Something that reminds us that a huge
part of running ultras is the great people we meet out there.

Anyway, for the next 5-6 days, I covered all of the rest of the course on an
out-and-back basis each day - and in addition, I accidentally climbed
Mt. Elberts (for the uninitiated, that's the highest Mt. in Colorado at some
14,300' - just guessing here). "Accidentally" since I made a crucial mistake
at junctions while running (actually walking) from Half Moon to Twin Lakes,
but what the hell, by the time I realized it I was halfway up the hill - so
I thought I may as well see the top!

One day was also spent with Bill, Butch, etc. at the first/last aid station
for the Mountain Bike 100. Here I picked up a valuable lesson - even though
this had been a superb month in Leadville, weather wise, things can change
real quickly. And change they did for the poor riders, who faced cold rain,
lightning, etc. for much of their ride. Many were extremely unprepared and
on their return journey we cut garbage bags for about 150 of them, and tried
to thaw out several more in our vehicles, heaters at full blast - sometimes
successfully, sometimes not.

For my final week before the race, I was joined by my wife, Lucinda, and
daughter, Tabitha (on vacation from her work in Berlin). Lucinda runs ultras
(many more than me) and Tab has worked many aid stations. They were here to
crew me, a thankless task they handled admirably. We shared a house in town
with Norm and Helen Klein, Helen all set to show the world that 100 milers
don't stop at the age of 77!

For my last four days, I tapered by doing nothing, other than a drive up to
Mosquito Pass at 13,000+ feet and spending some two hours up there. The only
other thing of significance was to pick up a tip from Kathy Hamilton, the
result of which was that I bought a 4 LED green light - that worked out
great, I loved it!!

RACE DAY
I don't get nervous before 100's. But that doesn't mean I sleep well! This
time, I got four hours sleep on the Thursday night and one hour on the
Friday night. When I got up, it was raining. Shit! No way! Surely it wasn't
going to be a repeat of the bike race? Still, no point in regrets, just get
that garbage bag on and get out there.

The starting line was fun with music and the usual cast of incorrigibles.
With the gunfire, we were down 6th Street and before we knew it, here was
the Boulevard, parts of which were turning into a quagmire, but most of
which was fine. Remember to try to follow Dana's strategy - look at your
watch to make sure you're not going out too fast - shit, I can't read my
watch - the curse of getting old with inflexible eye muscles. Yes, I can
just make it out and I'm doing ok.

Everyone is in a good mood with much easy banter. Why is it that at every
100 we all feel great for the first 20-30 miles and are too thick-headed to
remember from experience how bad it usually feels later on? My aim is simply
to finish, hopefully between 28 and 29 hours. I am not a fast ultra runner,
too hampered by injuries and bad knees to be able to put the training in to
be a sub 25 hour finisher. At 56 and after multiple surgeries of various
kinds, I am just grateful to be able to start and finish these runs - I
don't bother about trying to shoot for the moon. We all have our personal
goals and that's another great thing about this sport.

Soon, we're up the steep part of the trail, across the road and onto the
trail around the lake. This continues uneventfully - it's too difficult to
overtake, so just follow the feet in front of you and enjoy the scenery,
which is gradually turning from darkness to daylight. Lucinda and Tab are at
the boat ramp and have a full water bottle for me - they later told me that
the LED green light has another advantage, that they can make out the green
light very clearly from others and as very few people have them, they could
actually track me from a distance!

A little later, we run into May Queen campground. Little things become
important as in all runs. Where am I going to crap? Against all odds, I find
a campground toilet unused (470 starters and no one in it?) - well, okay,
it's the Ladies one, but who's going to sweat the small stuff? Luxury, no
awkward crouching while trying to hide yourself from the hordes - must be a
good omen.

Into May Queen, Lucinda and Tab are there with a bagel, and take my
flashlight and swap bottles again - they had been worried about getting from
the boat ramp to this first aid station in time, but no problem. I'm right
on "schedule" (Dana's) at 2:28. Walk out the campground road and up the hill
on the short stretch of road, while eating. Now it's back on single track
and soon on the Colorado Trail, running with young girls and other old men -
no, wait, this can't be right? Sorry, wrong dream! But actually, it is -
another old guy following a particularly attractive derriere, signals me a
silent 10 out of 10 as I overtake him! Yes, I nod and happily agree.

Now we're on Hagerman Pass Road and plenty of crews give us a noisy
greeting. This is something that gets repeated all along the trail - lots of
encouragement from many people. And just as always, a greeting back from one
of us delights them and makes them even more vocal - and so we feed off each
other. The big question on Hagerman Pass Road, which is slightly uphill, is
does one run or walk? I elect to walk the whole thing and the jeep road
afterwards - some run, some run/walk, but most just walk. We've only covered
some 16 miles and energy must be conserved for the remaining 84 miles.

On top of Sugar Loaf and down we go. By California standards, I am not a
fast downhill runner. Most Californians train on long downhills (as must the
Coloradans?), so our quads are trained to handle these. Even though I am not
fast on downhills, I overtake several people down to the bottom of Sugar
Loaf. Here are L and T again with a sandwich and good cheer. Now a quick
walk up the road and down the hill into the Fish Hatchery for a quick check
through the aid station. (Looking back at the course splits supplied to us,
it says I'm some 20 minutes behind my schedule - but this doesn't seem right
in retrospect?). There are several Northern California friends out there
supporting other runners who give me an encouraging shout - Dans, Tropical
John, Wayne, Bob, Laura K, Renda, etc. Amazing how much something so small
lifts your spirits.

Now comes the seven mile stretch along the paved road and then dirt road,
which I dread as I run roads as little as I possibly can - remember those bad
knees? But it's not too bad. I run 8 minutes and walk one. This gradually
changes to run 5, walk 1; then run 3, walk 1. But it doesn't seem to matter
as I'm still overtaking people. Here's the runner with the crazy
multicolored top hat - we keep passing each other. And soon I join with Bill
Finkbeiner, out for his 17th (I think) consecutive Leadville. Now, I don't
fool myself. Bill is a very talented ultrarunner, much faster in his day.
The only reason I can even be within several miles of him is a combination
of circumstances - that he has knees even worse than mine, that he trains
very little (yes, he has a streak of some 20 years or so, running every day,
but he tells me he just runs 2 miles a day mostly), and that he is a
full-time dad with two kids and a full-time job to hold down. What amazes me
about Bill is that he can, year after year, turn up at Leadville on the
Thursday night (this year at 1.00am) and with no acclimation finish
Leadville under 30 hours without fail - and more often than not, do it in
under 25.

At Tree Line, the ever reliable L & T meet me, satisfy my wants and send me
onwards and upwards. Through Half Moon and I'm about 15 minutes ahead of
schedule???. I'm surprised to find that we hit the single trail a mile or so
further than I thought it would be, but doesn't matter as this is a stretch
I'm really looking forward to - beautiful. I run a lot of it with Scott and
Dan, two 30 somethingers from Boulder. One of them trips and does a face
plant, but recovers. I smugly remind myself to be careful and not do the
same thing. Not 10 minutes later, a guy behind me says "That's a pretty
sight!", I look up and down I go headfirst. No broken bones or bloodied
skin, but the trip sends both my calf muscles into a god almighty cramp. I
did this once a few years back on a 50k and it effectively ended the run for
me, as I limped in the last 4 miles. This time however, I'm wearing my
patented tubigrip "anklets". These are some exceptionally unattractive
pieces which look like long socks with the bottoms cut off - and which earn
me various uncomplimentary comments from friends and strangers alike. But
what they do is to give my notoriously injury-prone calf muscles enough
support, warmth and compression to allow me to run these races. The trip
just results in my having to stretch the calf muscles vigorously and to walk
awhile. I can still fell the cramp, but it lessens as I continue. Soon, I'm
hurtling down the long final descent to Twin Lakes closely followed by
another runner. I'm in at 12:08pm, still some 15 minutes ahead of Dana's
schedule.

At Twin Lakes, I'm feeling great and gear up to Hope Pass. My crew makes sure
I have everything ready for any inclement weather. The run across the
meadows is pleasant, the creek crossing insignificant and I'm ready for the
haul up the Pass. Goes well at a steady non-stop pace up to Hopeless Aid
Station, where I fuel up a little. The last bit up to the Pass is steep and
slippery with rocks and scree - I'm not looking forward to the downhills.

At the top of the pass, I look back at the great sight of the Hopeless Aid
Station. I count at least 13 brightly colored tents and even more llamas -
and who knows how many people. All nestled in a lovely basin and nearby an
alpine lake.

Once over the Pass and I'm struggling down the too-steep trail. Only a few
weeks before Leadville, I had changed from wearing size 12 to 13 shoes -
tired of sore toes! But I felt I wasn't used to the longer shoes and they
were likely to contribute to my tripping over rocks and roots. So at Twin
Lakes, I put on my old size 12 Adidas Alfrescos, ignored the pressure on my
toes and pronounced myself ready for all obstructions over Hope. The trouble
was, as I soon found out, there was not enough tread on the bottom of these
old reliables. That made going down much of the outward bound slope of Hope
difficult.

But it doesn't last too long. Soon I'm at trailhead, meet my team again and
take off along the dirt road to Winfield. Much of this I pass and get passed
by Teresa Daus-Weber. It's nice seeing all the other runners, but not so
nice with all the cars on the road - but they are nearly all very
considerate. At Winfield, I'm 45 minutes ahead of Dana's strategy, but 4 lb.
underweight.

Back at trailhead, I tell them I need weight. Also, I had forgotten to drink
my Ensure Plus, something I meant to do at Twin Lakes and the previous time
at trailhead. I always drink Ensure Plus diluted with water 1:1 - they give
me a huge water bottle which I glug down dutifully. Then they tell me it's
two cans of Ensure Plus in there - aaaagh, 800 calories down in about 10
seconds. As I start up to Hope Pass again, my innards get themselves all
messed up. Soon I also start to bonk - is it the altitude catching up, the
lack of calories, the Ensure Plus or what? As slowly as I go, I manage to
pass Teresa, now static by the trailside. But my progress is painful.
Normally, I'm a relatively strong uphill walker. Not this time. And not to
labor a point, but I stop at least 8-9 times going up, mournfully sitting on
a rock each time, something I never do. I'm passed by what seems like hordes
of other competitors and their pacers. At this point, I could care less. I
can't see how I'm ever going to get up this goddamed hill! After what seems
like an age, I'm at the top. But I'm not feeling good and I have no strength
or coordination whatsoever. Now the problem faced is how am I going to make
it down the relatively short distance to the aid station at Hopeless.
I'm walking real slow, but still keep falling off the trail - can't seem to
walk in a straight line.

Finally, I make it. By now, Teresa has managed to overtake me again, as has
the one other competitor who was also stopping several times up Hope. I sit
inside the aid station at Hope, defeated. I can not go on past Twin Lakes. I
feel like shit. I don't feel like eating anything. I just sit there in a
daze. The race mantra keeps coming back to me - "You're better than you
think you are. You can do more than you think you can". Oh yeah, wanna bet?
Why me - what about all those others who have already quit - don't pick on
me! Laura K appears and presses me on to get down the hill and find a pacer.

Eventually, I have some soup and an orange. I drink some Coke and in
desperation take a NoDoz and some Advil. Then Scott and Dan appear and one
of them, Scott (?) says he is getting some oxygen and that I should also.
What? Oxygen? Doesn't that DNF you from the race? No, I am told, it's all ok
at Leadville. Well, my main priority now is how I'm going to get off this
hill in one piece, so I follow. The aid station EMT is very helpful and
professional and renders me oxygen. He asks me about any other symptoms. I
tell him that going up Hope the second time, my pulse seemed to be racing -
it was going so fast, I thought I would explode. He takes my pulse and
comments to his pal (both non-runners), "Shit, 64, I can't remember when my
pulse ever got that low and he's just covered 55 miles at altitude!".

Soon, I'm on my feet again, back to the food-tent for more sustenance and
I'm beginning to feel better. Bidding good-bye to the volunteers and their
llamas, I take off and it starts to rain once more. Out comes another
garbage bag and I'm off. And now I'm feeling great again and running downhill
fast. I'm feeling a little guilty about the oxygen, but soon I rationalize
that this was just an accelerated way of getting the oxygen that I would
have soon got by decreasing elevation down from Hope. And anyway, Leadville
has its own eccentricities in the form of things allowed by the rules. As I
recross the creek at the bottom, I'm joined by a cheerful lady crew member
who has been waiting for her runner. She asks if I'd like some company and
joins me in for the run/walk to Twin Lakes.

In a little while, I see Ron Perkins with a cell phone - what's going on,
here? - it turns out that Ron dropped at Winfield. Too bad! He has my crew
on the phone and tells me to say something to them. I tell them, "I was
buried and have arisen from the dead!". Ron says that his pacer, Wayne
Kocher, is ready to pace me. Great! I get on well with Wayne and this will
be good. Incredibly, despite my snail like progress up Hope and all the time
spent at the Hopeless Aid Station, I'm 37 minutes ahead of Dana's strategy
schedule. I do a complete change of clothes and shoes and feel like a new
runner. Get some soup, coffee and food and I'm off.

While I was struggling up Hope the second time, I had been dreading the
initial climb up from the Twin Lakes aid station - frankly, I had thought it
would be impossible the way I felt. But now fresh and with some company, it
goes by quickly. Wayne and I are accompanied by Todd, from Montana. It is
(if I remember correctly) his first 100. Todd says that he had hoped for 24
hours originally, but knows he can't get that now. Still, he thinks 25 hours
is realistic. Wayne and I look at each other and tell him it ain't on the
cards. Every now and again, we lose him but he always gets back to us.
Eventually we lose him for good - in the race results, I see he does a great
26:51:33, so although he doesn't get his 25 hour buckle, he should be well
satisfied with his first 100 finish.

Once again this stretch is really pleasant, despite some more rainfall,
necessitating getting out my 99 cent poncho. I had specially bought a
running jacket for this race (breathable, but not waterproof), but never
used it - the garbage bags and cheap ponchos were good enough.

Down on the dirt road into Half Moon aid station, Wayne has me on a run/walk
pattern. The aid station is great as always and I take in more coffee and
soup, etc. Back onto the dirt road, we soon come across Ron again, who lets
me know where the crew is and phones in a warning to them. Dana suggests
some pizza and although I look dubious, he encourages me and stands back
satisfied as I obviously relish it. The stars are fantastic away from city
lights and we spend time stargazing before getting kicked out of this spot
by the others.

Now we pick up another runner to replace the missing Todd. This is Bill from
Colorado. He is without pacer and crew - and this is his first run over 26.2
miles. In fact, he only took up running because of his wife doing half
marathons. He has run two marathons, one four years ago and the other as
training for Leadville. Pretty ambitious. But he is young, 29 I think, and
resilient. The three of us pad along following Wayne's suggestions as when
to run and when to cut the tangents on the road. The two of them stop to
take a leak before the lights of the Fish Hatchery aid station, but I'm
buoyed by the Reggae music blasting out of some speakers. Nothing better
than to run to that reggae.

We run out of the aid station and I realize I've left my LED flashlight
behind. No sweat when you have a pacer. Wayne runs back for it. My crew is
missing from Power Line, but that's ok. Soon, we are starting up Sugar Loaf.
I am amazed to see two guys, each decked out with ski poles, connected by a
stout yellow rope, and with the front one (presumably the pacer, but ya
never know) hauling up the runner. I say, "That takes muling to a whole
other level!". Another runner makes some remark, but they are silent - no
sense of humor. They haul ass up the hill and are soon out of sight. I
imagine they finished well ahead of us, but a secret fantasy tells me they
ran afoul of something, somewhere. Still, they are playing by Leadville
rules and with the oxygen lift behind me, I'm not going to sing holier than
thou!

Near the top of Sugar Loaf, we hear noises including car doors closing. I
assume some overzealous crews have managed to find their way up to greet
their runners. But instead, it is a surprise aid station at the top. What
great news in the middle of the night, a first time mini-aid station set up
by some young guys and gals, who drove up in their four-wheelers. Again,
everything tastes great, even more so as its unexpected.

We run down the jeep road and Hagerman Pass Road, mostly steadily, but Wayne
keeps us honest when we walk too long. Going along some rocky parts of the
Colorado Trail, we ignore him and just walk. He knows when not to push too
hard. When we get to the paved road, Bill tells us to go ahead as he knows
we want to go fast.

We quickly go through May Queen, mile 87 - man, the best potato soup in the
world. No crew again. I'm hoping no vehicle problems, but Wayne reassures
me, "They've probably fallen asleep". What we didn't realize until later was
that we were now over an hour ahead of our schedule. They also got there an
hour ahead, thinking they would be safe, but we must have been leaving as
they arrived.

Wayne senses I'm feeling relatively strong for this last stage when most
"runners" are walking only. He keeps me on a run/walk pattern and provides
entertainment whenever he sees runners' lights in the distance with the
refrain "Road kill ahead!".

Everyone is friendly and after an age we get to the Boat Ramp and see
Lucinda and Tab - they are finally glad to have caught up with us, but we
are in a hurry now. A few runners provide resistance to our overtaking, but
they don't keep it up for long. I think from May Queen to the end, we must
have overtaken at least 15-20 runners, all while we run/walk. I'm amazed to
pass Johnny Sandoval, a well known Colorado athlete, obviously not having a
good day.

Inevitably, we get down to goals. I'm quite happy knowing we will be under
28 hours, better than my initial goal. But Wayne wants me under 27 hours.
This must be revenge for Western States when I paced and nagged my runner,
Tomassa, to finish under 27 hours (he did 26:51 or so). Whenever I say to
Wayne 27 hours is not going to happen, he repeats "We'll just do our best
and see where it gets us" and "Race in the most efficient manner possible".
Good words to remember. Trouble is I keep calculating from where we are to
the end and figure out "No way for under 27".

Finally off the Boulevard and onto the paved roads, we run, then walk over
the last little hill and then run all the way uphill to the finish in one
last sprint, Lucinda joining us for the ride. The trouble is we can't see
any official clock. We make it in at what we estimate from our watches is
about 27:02;30. It's not until well later that I see the actual time was
27:00:35 and yes, Wayne was of course right, we could have gotten under 27
with one or two extra runs instead of walks. Motto to remember - once you
have a good pacer, don't think, just follow what he/she says!

But still, it's not a big deal. It's not the difference between buckle size
or color. It's just an arbitrary number we choose. I'm relieved to finish,
but am not exhausted. Wayne and Lucinda and Tabitha were an enormous help
and I owe much of the finish to them.

Merilee and Ken put on a great race. The aid station personnel and other
volunteers were excellent. I never thought I'd be saying this, but the
quality of the Leadville aid stations were just as excellent as the Western
States ones. Thank you everyone at Leadville.

Now I'm onto Angeles Crest to redeem myself for a DNF last year - torn calf
muscle before the race - wasn't wearing those ugly tubigrip anklets.!

What would I do the same if I were to run Leadville again?

1. Minimum two weeks acclimation.
2. Go up Mt. Evans as I did per Karl King's suggestions.
3. Follow Dana's race strategy.
4. Taper as I did - no running after Monday.
5. Wear clothing as I did - carrying garbage bags and 99 cent ponchos.
6. Pick up a pacer whose runner has dropped. I seem to have luck with this
tactic.

What would I do differently?

1. Make sure all my shoes have the proper tread to handle the terrain. (I
had been told by several people that the terrain at Leadville was much
better than WS. And while I agree there are more paved roads and dirt roads
at Leadville, I can guarantee readers who may not have done both that parts
of Leadville are just as rocky - e.g. Hope Pass near the tops, Colorado
Trail).
2. Don't get 4 lb. underweight and try to get it all back at once!

And finally, I want to add that much of my race was ran in memory of Carl
Touchstone, who passed away recently. He and I suffered the same curse of
prostate cancer. I was just luckier than Carl in the result of treatment (so
far). I wish he could have been around to run and experience these trails.

Barry