So here I am in Leadville again 1 year later. I decided about 4 days before the race to give the Leadville Silver Rush 50 Miler another go. I cant say the decision was that of my own, some was due to the influence of my tasty friend Jameson. This could also be the reason why I signed up under the name “Honey Badger”. The weekend in Leadville started off with an epic night of singing and dancing to Scottish pirate music with a few of the best people I know in Boulder. We crawled back into our 1800’s style Leadville escape house. Night one in the books. Day 2 began with a nice hike around Turquoise lake with Mallory and the arrival of Alex and Cat to Leadville. Alex would be running the 50 miler as well, Cat would be on the support team alongside Stacy and Mallory. The 2nd night ended with a funny little story… As we were coming back from a late lunch we approached the house to the surprise of a tall, fit man coming from the garage with his dog alongside and a piece of dental floss hanging from his mouth. I approached him to say hey, and soon realized who this man was. It was Caballo Blanco from the best selling book “Born to Run”. This was quite a surprise as for in the book he is described as the elusive, ghost like figure running through the mountains of the Mexico. Upon reading the book a few years ago, I was absolutely inspired to run an ultra myself. To meet the man of the book in person was an honor all of its own. We all shared dinner and some beers and spoke about past adventures, even got a look of the book from Caballo’s eyes. It was just awesome. I took this as a great sign for the race on the following morning.
Day 3…race day. Here I am staring into the past of last years race and into the future of what is about to begin. I apprehensively gaze up the hill at the start, on the other side is the next 50 miles of adventure, surprises, new friends, stories, determination, pain and hopefully triumph. My goal today? Who knows, last year I wanted to just finish within the 14 hour cutoff and surprised myself with 10:47. I kept my mouth shut on a possible 10:00 finish, but of course this was in the back of my mind. Going 10 hours or better would absolutely mean the world to me as it would represent my growth mentally and physically in this extremely strange sport. I pace around the starting area and check in, well Honey Badger checked in. If you are unfamiliar with the Honey Badger please take 3 minutes now to familiarize yourself via you tube, the “Crazy Nasty Ass Honey Badger” is the video you need to see. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
Now that we are all on the same page its time to go smack the shit out of this cobra known as the Silver Rush 50. I remember my feelings at this point last year. All of my fear is replaced with confidence and anxiety replaced with eagerness. With a final wish of good luck to friends and strangers the shotgun fires and we are off. We begin up a steep grade before heading out onto the main trail. My plan was to run 80% of the way up to the 7 mile aid station. I made it there in 1:19, just 5 minutes ahead of the pace I need to hold to go under 10 hrs. This showed me that today was going to be a long, long day. I needed to really stay on top of the pace and not waste any time if I wanted to make this goal a reality. Coming through the aid station I got to see my friends which is always a huge plus in races like these. I ran through this station without stopping to begin the first climb of the day. We would ascend Sherman Pass all the way up to 12,000 feet. I found a solid group and power hiked all the way to the top in just about 2 hours. I felt strong and took on this first descent. About a mile into the descent a man came up from behind and told me my pack was open, I reach back and closed it up. Around 1.5 miles out from the printer boy aid station at mile 13.5 I fall into another strong group of runners. We pull into printer boy with 2:42 on the clock, on 10hr pace exactly. This is of course good and bad, I rush through printer boy in under 30 seconds, enough time to grab a quick bite and refill my bottles. Back on the trail and into my favorite section of the race. Surrounded by trees and running on soft, damp dirt I begin to feel great physically and mentally. Pull through mile 18 one minute behind pace. Rush through after a refill and begin the second big climb up Ball Mountain. I reach back for a bite, and realize that my pack is empty. Everything must have bounced out on the descent into printer boy. With 6 miles to go to the turnaround I realize this isn’t a perfect situation. Then I remember who I am today, and you know what…..Honey Badger don’t care about having no food left, he just doesn’t give a darn about anything. I charge up Ball Mountain and descend on down. After a mile or so I see the top runners coming through, further down I see all of my friends on the way back, around 30 minutes ahead. I have my friend Stacy waiting at the turnaround, she is by far my biggest supporter in the stupid races. There really isn’t much for a crew to do during a 50, but knowing they are there means the world. I come into the station give her a hug, grab some water and food from my drop bag and begin my trip home. The best part is I actually made up some time, I’m about 12 minutes ahead of pace for 10 hours…SWEET! Time to blast back up the mountain and make this happen. A mile from the summit the sky begins to fall a bit with some light rain. We summit in 17 minutes, right here is when the sky just unleashed fury in the form of hail and thunder. I let out one big animalistic roar and begin my descent. Hail? Thunder? Who cares, I know for sure the Honey Badger wouldn’t give a shit. I rush into mile 30 still ahead of schedule. “Lets keep this up”, I tell myself. I run right into printer boy inbound to see my crew one last time. I suck down some watermelon and coke. Literally I SUCK down watermelon and coke, aspirate most of it into my lungs and the aid station volunteer says just like a parent..”slow down, your gonna choke”. I look up at him, say nothing. He saw the Honey Badger in my eyes and knew that I most likely didn’t give a damn. I say my quick goodbyes and keep charging. We have a long 3+ mile climb back up Sherman to 12,000 feet. I begin a slow death march up this beast. I implement a run/walk routine of run for 13 seconds and walk for what felt like 30 minutes. My mental ipod clicks on and I think about the right song…”Push It” by Salt Peppa. I walk to this beat solely in my head, most likely singing out loud. This sort of behavior is more than acceptable in these types of situations. Regardless did you think I cared? I will let you answer that one.
I make it to the top and begin one last great descent to the last aid station that is 7 miles to the finish. Once im on the flat section 2 miles out, I get extremely nauseous and cramp up. I physically and mentally plunder. Finally make it into the last station and waste a good 5 minutes in the bathroom. I keep going. I have 1:24to run the section that took me 1:19 to run in the beginning of the race. As much as I really wanted to throw this 10 hour goal out of the window, I just couldn’t do it. That would be quitting to me. I could have easily backed off the pace and had a for sure finish. A mile down the road, the wheels completely come off. I am completely physically and emotionally drained. I continue to get passed by more and more people who look 10x stronger than I do at this point. I begin a slow jog that I could maintain for about 2:00. I kept this routine up as long as possible, jogging and walking….shuffling and death marching. I think this is it for my goal, I have no idea how long it is to the finish. I come up on someone close to my age. We chat a bit and he tells me this is his first ultra and he also wants to break 10 hours. This is perfect, we run/walk together for a bit. I know we have minutes to spare for this goal to happen. All of a sudden he lets out this scream and falls to the ground as if he was shot. I turn back and he tells me he cramped up completely. He repeatedly tells me to just keep going and not to worry. I take off for 2 minutes and then stop. Who am I to leave this guy to miss his goal? I run back to him, give him my bottle of electrolytes/water. I also top off his water bottle with mine. I give him my words of advice “grit your teeth, and just keep moving one step at a time and I will see you at the finish”. I take off once more knowing my window of opportunity was getting smaller and smaller to make this 10 hour goal. I begin to stop caring, knowing that I did the right thing in helping out my fellow racer. He was a total stranger, but he was a stranger out here putting himself through the same punishment. I could finish in 10:00:01 and not care in the slightest. The finish must be getting close, I can’t run much more than a few steps at a time. I keep going though, just focusing on the next step. My mouth feels like sand paper. What little water I had left was now totally drained. I slip into a deep abyss of darkness and pain. My mental ipod comes back on with Tom Petty’s “Won’t Back Down”. Minutes left…I see the light! It’s the final mean, asshole-ish hill before the finish. Takes me a while to get my ass up to the top. Charge down the other side and onto the bike path. I see the finish, I see my friends. I cross the line and just feel demolished. I sink down into a slump and get some help from my awesome supportive friends to a spot in the grass. I peer up at the clock 9:54…it happened. I am excited; trust me…more than excited. But am too exhausted to show a hint of emotion. I keep it all in. My face shows nothing besides the salt of my efforts. My mind on the other hand is dancing and doing keg stands. I feel like a truck ran me over, the driver stepped out kicked me in legs and then ran me over again. But its all over, and that’s what matters. We ALL showed up in a big way. Each one of my friends out there took down that 10 hour goal. I couldn’t move a muscle until I saw my friend from before limp into the finish with a crab walk like gait. 9:59 and change. He did it! I was so pumped for this kid and hobbled over to give him a big hug before he once again dropped to the floor. This is EXACTLY what this sport is all about to me, and should be to everyone. This sport has given to me way more than I could give back. But it’s the small little things like helping your fellow racer with 8 oz. of water that make all the difference in the world. It is all about definition. Define your own success and define your own failure. Do this and you can always succeed and never fail. Today though my success was the failure of my mind, body and spirit. I gave it absolutely everything I had. There was no sprint finish or final “kick”. I tapped into the “beyond” of my physical and emotional ability. Happy trails.
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