The Leadville Silver Rush 50 Trail Race - Part One

I signed up for this race many months in advance in order to commit to the training as early as possible.  In retrospect I did not realize how hard this race would be.  The race starts at 10,000 feet and ascends to more than 12,000 feet 4 times in the course of 50 miles.

My training did not go as well as I had hoped.  I injured my leg during a training run in January and despite some great treatment from a physical therapist I was not able to get the miles on my feet that I needed.   Essentially I did not treat the injury as well as I should have and I made a poor choice regarding a race in February.  I was finally able to run some good trail miles in May and June.  I was not sure I was ready for the race but I was going to run it anyway.   I have to thank Karen Kantor and my training group with Revolution Running for motivating me and helping to get me over the finish line.

We rented a condo in Copper Mountain for the weekend and we even brought Oreo.  Copper Mountain is a wonderful 45 minute drive from Leadville.  We drove into Leadville to pick up my race bib and check out the town a bit.  I saw Ed, Marissa and Alex of Runners Roost at the starting line and talked to them a bit.  Runners Roost is so supportive of the running and triathlon community.  They had staff and a booth in Leadville and Boulder for the Boulder Peak triathlon.  I don't know how they do it all but I do appreciate it so much.

I slept as well as I could despite race anxiety and all too soon it was time to get to the starting line.  I never eat much for breakfast before a race.  Honestly, I think I should start eating a Denny's Grand Slam or the equivalent next time.  I grabbed my gear, kissed Julie and made my way to the starting line.  I played music to motivate me on the drive.

I believe in preparedness.  I wore a belt with two 24 oz bottles and a Camelback to carry my trekking poles. I think I was carrying the equivalent of two or three thousand calories in gels and chews.  I had that much more in my drop bag waiting at the halfway point.  I was wearing a state of the art GPS watch.  I was better equipped than Neil Armstrong.  What this means is that I looked like a noob.  True ultra runners actually carry next to nothing.  A friend was not actually wearing a watch.  Some barely wear clothing at all.

I arrived fairly early and wandered around looking for familiar faces.  I looked at the hill that you have to climb to reach the actual start.  I met Nick Lang for the first time.  I knew of him from the Runners Roost Mountain/Ultra team, Google+ and as a fellow IT professional.  More people I knew arrived.  Sean and Laura with their manic energy and Trevor and his enduring enthusiasm calmed my pre-race jitters and helped to distract me.  I met some new friends as well.

Pictures do not show how truly steep Dutch Henry Hill is.  It looks like a 100 yard climb up a nearly vertical wall.  Once you reach the top the clock starts.  As the start time approached we gathered at the starting line and the reality of what I was about to do started to overwhelm me.  The national anthem was played and we sang enthusiastically.   Ken Chlouber started the race with a shot gun and we were off.  Up the hill I walked.  A few raced to the top.

Once I reached the top I started to jog at what I hoped was a reasonable pace.  I really did not know what the course would be like.  I just ran at a pace I felt comfortable with.  Other runners settled into their paces as well and I talked with friends.  Ken Chlouber waved from his truck at about the first mile mark.  That guy is a class act.  The first four of five miles are really runnable dirt roads.  After about a mile or two we start to climb at a moderate grade and I kept up a slow run.  The road turned into a trail that started to roll more.

After six miles I started to look for the first aid station as a distraction as I was not really running with anyone and I did not feel like turning on the iPod yet.  All at once I was on the ground.  I had tripped and I was down before I could flail and stumble, what I call the "Batman".  I got up and stood for a moment to see if I was injured.  My knee stung and then my right hand ached.  I looked at my thumb and it was rapidly swelling and turning purple.  It felt broken.  Runners stopped and asked if I was okay and offered assistance.  I assured them I was and I started to walk.  I realized I could not squeeze my right hand.  Reaching my bottles on my belt was painful.  I would not be able to use my trekking poles.  I had to suck it up and continue or use it as an excuse to stop.