Lean on Me

It has been about 10 weeks since my first attempt at 100 miles in Wyoming which ended with a sprained ankle and a horseback ride out of the canyon. Immediately after this tragic turn of events I went ahead and registered for another 100 mile footrace. This one would be the Leanhorse 100 in Hot Springs, SD. By comparison this 100 would be a much easier race in terms of elevation change, but this would be a much hotter race. I paced around the starting line on the warm sunny morning with my team of friends. The team consisted of Alex May, a math teacher in Fort Collins and ultrarunner. Alex was coming off of the Leadville 100 race the previous weekend, but had ran Leanhorse the previous 2 years, so he was a great person to have helping. Also from Fort Collins, Cat who is a seasoned ultrarunner herself. She has a few 100 mile finished under her belt, her experience on  the trails will be vital to my race. And last but not least my roommate Mallory, who herself is beginning to find an interest in the trail running world. This team of runners will be a huge factor to how well I can perform at this race. I have a bit of a bone to pick with this 100 mile distance. I told my team that I was willing to run myself into the ground if that’s what it took to cross under that glorious finish line.
                I toed the starting line with 150 or so other runners competing in various distances. I was all set up with 2 hand bottles, a gel flask with about 320 calories and the obvious running attire. The rest of my gear would remain in my car which would be at most aid stations along the way as my crew would follow along. Coming into this race I had the goal of just finishing, depending on how I felt later on I may try to go for a time goal. Sub 24 hours would be great, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself since at this point 57 miles had been the longest run I have ever been on. The longer these races are the more likely things will go sour at some point. The key is to plan for the worst and hope for the best.
                Here comes the countdown from 10..9…8. A chill runs down my spine, 7…6..5, holy shit I am about to do this again…4..3…well here goes everything..2..1.GO!. We begin at a painfully slow clip, but this will be quintessential to a finish. Start off slower than you think you need to go is what I tell myself. I ran right through the first aid station and onto mile 8.9 to see my crew for the first time, I felt great at this point as for the sun has not came up completely. I was right on schedule with about 12-13 minute miles still. I wanted to remain relaxed and consistent like this all day long. I continued on with my steady rate of speed and effort. I do not listen to music or carry any sort of GPS, I just listen to my footfalls and what cadence that is, I try and keep that going to a nice consistent rhythm. I take a walking break for about 2-3 minutes every 90 minutes or so. I notice many people around me that seem to run super hard and then walk, so this yo-yo effect is happening when they pass me running and get passed walking, while I just remain at my own effort not changing a thing.
                Right around mile 28 the sun is in full effect and from I had learned hit a high of about 103 degrees. I was making sure that I was carrying salt tabs and increasing my hydration from 40oz to almost 50 oz per hour by increasing my intake at each aid station. I moved the bandanna from my head to my neck and replaced it with a hat. I began to notice a pulsing pain in my left foot/ankle, which is the one I sprained at Bighorn. Great…I thought to myself. Then I remembered something Cat told me that she heard from Gerber that you should never extrapolate, so since I feel this bad at mile 28, it doesn’t mean it will be twice as bad at mile 56. I just needed to keep my mind on the task at hand, which was placing one foot in front of the other.
                Mile 42 and I am beginning to place handfuls of ice in my pants, under my armpits and on my neck to try and stay cool. The heat is starting to get to me but I continue to push on through, right on pace. I make it to the turnaround in 10:17(mile 47), I eat a sandwich and take a few ibuprofen to ease the pain in my feet which unfortunately has been getting worse and worse with each mile. After a sock change I head back out to tackle the rest of this beast. I have pacer for the rest of the way back that will be a combination of Cat, Alex and Mallory. They tell me that mueling is allowed so without hesitation I hand over my hand bottles for them to carry. Having their clear minds will be awesome to keep me on track with hydration  and nutrition. The air is thick and sweltering, I am being choked by this heat, but still just keep pushing. Ice in the pants, soaking my shirt and just keep on moving along. I make the 50 mile mark in 10:40, still right on schedule. My feet are still getting worse and worse with each step, I go against the advice and begin to extrapolate…”man I don’t know how much longer I can keep up with this pain”. I knew exactly what I got myself into and just needed to remind myself that pain is part of it.
                Around the 60-65 mile mark it finally begins to cool rapidly. I am loving this and I can finally focus a bit more on the race rather than the pain in my feet and the heat in the air. I drop the hat and put my bandanna right back on. I am still running right on schedule, looking at around a 22 hour finish if I can keep it up. This is the point at which I need to really remember to run aid station to aid station rather than to the finish. After running 70 miles the last thing you want on your mind is running another 30, so instead I just think of running another 4-5 to the next aid station. I feel great and am right on track with my hydration and nutrition. I make the conscious decision to cut back on salt tab intake and hydrate a bit more slowly as the sun set. I wanted to avoided getting bloated and having too much water sloshing around in my stomach. This paid off as I continue to pee regularly and my legs still felt pretty fresh on the run with the amount of calories I was taking in. My pacers were all doing amazing jobs at keeping me engaged, and keeping me eating. Once the sun began to set then my pacers were carrying lights to light up the trail. We have less than 30 miles to cover in the dark, STILL right on track with everything. Feet…they feel like absolute shit to be honest, but ive gone to far to let it bother me. I remember that my body will always heal and recover but mentally I didn’t want to go through another DNF. I began to talk much less which worried my pacers but I assured them that I was just really focusing. I even instructed them to talk much less so I could just go to my happy place in my head and just go for it. I started to lean onto the gas a bit and pick up the pace and felt really comfortable still. I pulled into mile god-knows-what at this point and saw that 2-3 people were dropping. I grabbed a bite, told Alex I was going to keep going. I ran off with another runner, neither of us had a light. We stepped lightly down this trail in the pitch black and then I looked back and saw no one coming. I had no energy to waste so I just kept moving forward. 10 minutes go by and I realize that I am not carrying water or food either. Great…no light, water or food. 15 minutes now and I finally see a light coming from behind which I hope is my pacer. It is! Its Cat to the rescue with some water, we have about 5 miles to the aid station so I figure I can make it without any food. We make it in to the aid station still on track for about 22 hours. This is where I will run for a few more miles before turning off onto Argyle road. I see that another 3-4 runners have pulled out at this aid station. I head on into the bathroom for to relieve myself, when I attempt to stand up my legs both seize and I take a face plant right into the door of the porta potty leaving a pretty sizeable lump on my eye…classy, I know. We turn off onto Argyle road which is where we will run on rolling hills for about 12 miles before we hit the town and…the finish. I am sure of a finish at this point within the cut off, but it is a race, a race in which I want to push myself and leave everything possible on the course. 18 or so hours in I feel absolutely fantastic and continue to push the pace past mile 87, the pace up and down the hills feels awesome and I cant believe it. We are hitting the 7:30-9:30 min/mile pace for a few miles. We are picking off runners in the process and surprising the volunteers with our light mood in the night hours. My stomach feels great but I cant chew to well so I start dunking my grilled cheese into my mountain dew…delicious!..seriously though it was pretty good.
                I pick up Mallory again for the last stretch on Argyle road, we run smooth and confidently through the dark night. As we come up on a turn I halt and grab Mallory to stop her from running. “Wait!”, I yell. “The hell is that…it’s a freakin space ship, dude we cant go there”, I cry. Mallory looks confused and a bit worried. I continue to rant a plea to not travel this same way, when suddenly the space ship disappears and we continue into the night. I still feel great but need to ease back onto the pace. But then right at mile 95 I was hit with a mac truck. My body started to really feel the wear and tear of this race. My feet, my arms, my knees, hips, back all were just done. I was able to muster running 20 steps at a time at most. I pick up Cat as we enter the town, 3 miles to go. 3 of my blisters burst wide open and saturate my sock. Each step I am wincing in excruciating pain and discomfort. I run for 3 steps at a time. I must keep going forward, no stopping I say. Mile 99 I have my pacers leave me to finish this on my own. Each step sends a shooting pain through every square inch of my body, but the finish is almost in sight. .5 miles to go and I begin to emit a Chewbacca like roar with each step but just keep moving forward. I see my team as they point me in the direction of the finish, I cross the bridge and under the finish line as the clock ticks to 21:48. After a roller coaster of feelings and emotions I just sit down, I don’t cry or get emotional at the finish. I simply say with a smile “Welp…glad that’s over”, but I wasn’t glad. As much pain that I put myself through it was an amazing experience that I immediately began to miss.
            I realized a lot of things in the last 22 hours. One was just because a race has much, much less technical climbing than a different race doesn’t make it that much easier. Every race has its own difficulties and barriers to over come. Today was the heat and the long flat, continuous straight trail. Mentally it was easy to slip when you had no turns or steeps to focus on. I realized that is does not matter what your body looks like, it what you can do with it. I know that i do not look like a runner. I am short, stocky, overweight and not built like the typical muscle-less, tall, slender runner. But you know what...i finished right in there with the other "runner types". Another thing I realized is that stale grilled cheese dipped in mountain dew is delicious. Another thing I learned was that you do not need to run more than 40 miles a week to be able to make a 100 miles a reality.  The most important thing I realized is that you are only as strong as the people around you. I understand running is an independent sport, ultraunning even more so. Today I had 3 great people on my team which made this possible, I also had 100 other runners putting themselves through the same punishment. Today I was only as strong as all of them. Without my pacers/crew waiting my arrival at aid stations, running with me and keeping me focused, this race wouldn’t have gone the way it did. 100 miles is never a solo effort.
Give us that stength to dig deeper than ever to continue.Our bodies are saturated with your never ending strength, power and love whether we knew it or not. Deliver us 100 miles from now safe and smiling .Please place your blessing among each and everyone of us.Remind us on this day and through all of life that we never run alone.

24 HOT

Here we stand behind a makeshift starting line shoulder to shoulder with 40 plus other trail warriors. The dirt parking lot is littered with the shadows of the participants. The air is thick with the musty aroma of old shoes, body glide, coffee and the nearby porta-potty. With 2 minutes to start their will be tension coursing through your veins whether this is the first or 100th time toeing the start of an event. There is that ever so familiar feeling of anxiousness overpowered by either doubt or confidence. Now you approach the starting line that was determined minutes ago, all of those feelings will have reached a peak. You wait for the signal that never comes but everyone around you begins to move. You begin to run in unison and finally start to hear the pitter patter of pebbles being chased away by your shoes. The crumble of gravel beneath your feet let you know its official, it has started. Those first few steps leave behind an empty footprint. The proceeding steps leave behind even more footprints filled with your fear and uncertainty. For the next 26 plus miles the only thing that matters is the next step. This is the feeling that I got at my first trail race and will be the feeling I will have at the beginning of my last trail race.

Today what I will be embarking on is not a race, rather just a gathering of mentally and physically strong and stubborn runners running up and down Towers Road. What is Towers Road you ask...it is a 7 mile out and back with 1700 feet of climbing and 1700 feet of descent. The goal here today was not to beat your fellow runner, but work together and see how many horizontal and vertical miles we can complete. Our target was to achieve 750 miles and 325,000 vertical feet. The group huddles around a bench that Mr. Slusher was standing upon to hear the final words before the beginning. "Pretty basic...run up...run down...repeat. Start at 7am end at 7am tomorrow morning....good luck and god speed"(at least that’s what I heard). 3...2....1, and we are off. I watch as the fleet footed ones take off at a speedy clip as I hang back with my herd. We trot along the smooth single track and onto the wide fire road known as Towers. This was going to be a very, very long day/night of glute grinding climbs and quad burning descents. I planned to walk the major up hills, and run most of the rest of this challenging course.

   Skipping ahead...I have just completed my 2nd full lap at 10:00am, 1:30 per lap. I run right through our camp site to refill and re-strategize. It was getting hot, and I mean scorching out. I decided to carry a second bottle on this next lap and see how that treated me. The sun was in full effect and blistering my skin with each wincing moment of exposure. I charge back out onto the singletrack and hang a left onto Towers road for the 3rd time around. I still feel strong enough on the climbs to power hike at a steady rate. I run into Celeste and Mindy on the trail, they are just cruising along up the road. I had run with both of these strong runners as 24 Hours of Moab months back. Collectively our teams ran 260 miles between the 9 of us, today was going to be a similar test of mental and physical toughness.

            Finally I summit and slap the building after a good 50+ minute grind, turn back and pick my way precariously through the first few steeps until I find a steady, smooth stride to get my ass back down this beast. On the way I cross paths with a few more familiar faces. I see Cat, Alex, Pete and Marie. This group of 4 tenacious trail warriors has covered 1000’s of miles in some of the most extreme races across the country; Leadville, Vermont, Western States, Hardrock, Leanhorse, Bighorn, Wasatch…the list goes on. They do this all while supporting either jobs or families..Or both. They run and play in the mountains like ferociously fleet footed animals prancing up and down mountains.

           Looking back a few years I met this group of ultra athletes one warm August Fort Collins day at my first run with the Ft Collins Trail Runners. I showed up in my basketball shorts, off brand clearance shoes and a cotton T shirt. I kept mostly to myself as we ran in unison down the Reservoir Ridge trail to begin a fairly hefty climb for my ability level. Immediately I was out of my comfort zone, trudging up this what seemed like a mountain side. My lungs screamed for more air, legs cried for a break, heart beat rapidly enough to break a sweat. Everything in my was saying stop, stop, stop. I was pushed from behind and pulled from upfront, I had nowhere to go but up. It never got easier, I was hurting…hurting badly. Through wind-teared eyes and the cloud of sweat and discomfort I looked for a way out. All I could see in front of me was Pete and Marie chatting along as if on a walk in the park. I focused in what they were doing different, they were having fun. The sort of fun that you had as a kid running through the sprinkler or after the ice cream truck. No, they weren’t giggling, jumping and screaming…but you can just tell through their relaxed tone and confident smiles. I watched their form…loose hands, relaxed shoulders, leaning into the hill, feet underneath their hips, short strong strides..most of all they were in control. I adjusted myself..”OK Rob, relax….relaxxxx..RE-FU#%ing-lax!”. I shortened my stride and began to drive myself up the hill rather than reaching and pulling. “What a world of difference!” We summit the climb and peer over and down to Horsetooth Reservoir, “Holy hell, what a view” I cry. Can’t really replace a view like that, especially not in NY. I had been in CO for a few weeks now, and realized what the craze is all about. This was just absolutely astounding. We trotted along gently down the other side and for the first time I felt in control. I began to chat a bit with both Marie and Pete. I sort of cut in on their discussion about ultra marathons.  Ultra marathons? What the hell? I have heard of a marathon, but an ultra marathon..That was a new term. I dug a bit deeper and picked both of their brains about this topic. 50 kilometers, 50 miles, 100+ miles, vertical ascent, aid stations, beer, pacers, switchbacks, beer, single track, crewing, salt tabs, beer,  body glide…the list went on. I then made 2 realizations. I was surrounded by a group of freaking nut jobs. “Why the hell would anyone want to do that to themselves?”, I ask. Both peered at one another and then back at me with the “why not” sort of look. The other realization…I want to do one. I know my longest run has been about 6 or 7 miles, but something about it intrigued me. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe the determination it took to cover 100’s of miles by foot..Most likely it was because I had no idea what I was getting into. All I knew is that I found a new love for the mountains and for running. I looked at this group of runners and thought “one day I want to be like them, I want to run up and down mountains…I want to be an ultra runner”.

             Back to reality...101 degrees…back down Towers for the 3rd time 21 miles and 5100 vertical feet later. “F%*k my life it’s hot out” I whisper to myself. I grab a seat in the shade with Alex and Brian. We make small talk then head out for another lap. I do my best to keep up with Alex’s strong uphill stride but eventually lose the battle with the trail. Dehydration is creeping up quickly and once again my bottles are dry before the summit. I give the building one more faint, tired slap and begin my descent once again. I cruise all the way down and right to the watering hole. I drown myself in lukewarm water like I had been wandering the desert for months. I haven’t been able to pee for 6 hours now…time to rethink this whole thing. Mallory and I make the conscious decisions to get out of the heat. We head over to the bar to grab an ice cream sandwich and a beer. Come back to the campsite blasting ACDC’s “Highway to Hell” over the car stereo. The song could not have been more fitting. Rejuvenated and re-motivated I get ready to head back out on another lap. Mallory and I begin our next laps together. This is the lap that will take her past the 26.2 mile mark and into the world of ultra marathons. 3 weeks ago, trails and runs over 13 miles were totally unappealing to her. She smoked the climb and got ready for the descent. On the way down we passed many fatigued faces and then the face of Cat. She was on her 6th lap, she showed emotion. It wasn’t fatigue, it wasn’t dehydration…her body may have been screaming..But all you could see on her face was the joy of it all. The joy of running up and down the same mean, steep, unforgiving road. This is one of the strongest people I know. Her mind, body and spirit had unbelievable strength, this was the face of ultra running to me.

            We exchange encouragement and go our ways. 5 laps down I refuel, grab my light and a buddy for the trail. We pace off of each other dodging rattlesnakes along the way. We charge through all of the climbs for my fastest summit of the day. Slap the building..Turn around and see the immense panoramic view of Fort Collins at its best. As I peer down to the lights flickering in the distance I begin think back a bit.

            6 years ago as a 250 lb, unhealthy and unmotivated high school student I had no direction to my post high school life. Leaving class one afternoon I stroll past the track so look at the cross country team during practice. I see their athletic bodies prancing around and around and think to myself. I can’t run more than half a lap without extreme pain in my chubby swollen knees and feet, how do they make it look so easy. With a BMI of 40, running just wasn’t for me. I had fractured feet from simply walking around with an extra 100 lbs on top. I make a promise to myself, to one day try and lose weight. I knew running wouldn’t be my answer but id find something. I viewed this track team as super human, and I was simply a large, unwilling but hopeful teenager. I continue to walk on and laugh at the thought of my rotund body attempting to run. “Would be nice, but I could never do that, I’d be happy if one day I could run a non-stop mile”. I walk until they are out of sight, and place this pipe dream of running way down in the bottom of my self pity and frustration.

            I snap back into reality to begin my final descent of the night. 40+ miles on my feet I feel great. We run lightly but swiftly down the mountainside in the darkness and I recite to myself…”the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep”. The Fort Collins Trail Runners and company showed up today in the biggest way possible. Collectively we ran just under 1500 miles and climbed 350,000 vertical feet. This was a day of support, personal achievments, wonderful success, immense beauty and trail running at its best. I already cannot wait for this event next year, this is the sort of event that sets you apart from your prior self. No matter what level you are at, this road, this event and this group of true running heroes will challegne and make you stronger. I can finally see how far I have come, but not without the nudges in the right direction by some of the most inspiring people in my life.

 “I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep

Leadville 50 2011

   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.

Fruita 50

Coming into the Fruita 50 miler I had a very lofty goal of finishing in 10 hours or less. I thought this was doable being that I finished Leadville in about 10:40, and was bringing in much more experience to this race. The course was a 25 mile loop, done twice in opposing directions. There was 4000 feet of climbing on each lap with equaldescent. So this would mean I would hit the start/finish area twice. I went out with the 2nd or 3rd chase pack at a strong clip. Made the first 7.5 miles in around 1:05 and kept pushing up the ensuing climbs. I felt great, ran strong and pulled into mile 13 or so at about 2:16 or 2:20, on pace for a sub 9 hour finish (way too fast). I eased back a bit and focused on my form and trying to stay as relaxed as possible and make sure to eat/drin enough. I came into the mile 19.5 aid station still on track and still feeling great, i pushed the final climb and came down into start/finish area in just over 5 hours. I was a bit behind schedule but i thought I could possibly make it up. I got to see Stacy and Ethan at the turn around, Stacy is at everyone of my ultras and is a huge factor in all of my finishes. I made small talk, grabbed some more food and water and some E caps. Started making my way back, and was in about 20th or so place at this point? I knew there about 80 that started and saw about 20 people in front of me on my way out. I felt great still, but now the sun started to really come out. This course has pretty much zero tree cover from the elements, it might have only been 70-80 degrees, but it was the exposure that really sucked. I started to see this 10 hour goal go out the window as my pace began to slow pretty badly. I made it to mile 30 in desperate need of a bathroom. Instead i got some cookies, pizzas and paper towels. I will spare you the following details....Now that being done, I could get back to running...sorta. Back out onto the rock ridge we got an amazing view of the Colorado river 1000 feet below us, man that looked like a tempting jump into the refreshing water. The sun was in full effect, and torturing me. The sun grabbed at me like 1000 rusty fishing hooks. My pace slowed to a walk. My energy was depleted as for I forgot to eat for a while. I was beginning to doze off in my walk, tripping and falling a few times. Thankfully I had enough minfullness not to walk off the cliff edge. Im at mile 33 with 19 to go(found out the loops were 26 miles each). I looked behind me and saw a person maybe 3 minutes behind. My pace was getting slower and slower with each step, kidneys were throbbing with each breath. I turned back to see the man has dissapprered, mirage or not i was sure that i was in dead last place. The phrase Did Not Finish became a painful reality for me. I stopped, and sat on a rock. I began my self talk, which involves digging into my inner New Yorker and yelling at myself for being such a pansy. "Rob..whats wrong with you?", "Why are you being such a wimp right now?. I took my entire bottle of water and threw it in my face and followed it with "ROB WAKE THE F%&K UP AND GET YOUR DAMN HEAD IN THE GAME". I threw out all my goals, went into survival mode and just wanted to finish this beast. I had to dig deeper than ever to muster enough houdzpah to keep moving.

    On the move again, someone popped from behind the rocks and almost caused me to jump. It was someone close to my age and in the same race. We started walking together and chatting. It was his first 50 miler and was feeling pretty crappy as well. I am a very much a loner when it comes to running, but the company was good. I decided to pay it forward and help this guy out so he too could say he finished a 50. I said "ok man, lets do a 5 minutes run". We ran for 10 and started hiking a bit. The conversing started to subside some of the pain in my body. Mind distacted, and could finally get back to the race. We stayed together as for i told him "were going to finish this dude". I said dead last is better than qutting. I stared down at my watch to a terrilbe surprise, we had about 90 minutes to finish. We were approaching the final climb which was very, very very steep. We had spurts of running and hiking up the final climb but he began to fall behind. I tried my best to push him to the top, but at the same time this was MY race and needed to finish myself. I told him im going to run the rest whether or not it kills me and he can come or not. He just said "do what you need man, i would have never made it this far if it wasnt for you". I started running and he didnt, i yelled back "whatever you do, DONT STOP MOVING". I pushed the final .5 mile of the climb and began the descent. Time check, 45 minutes to finish. Body check, pain, near vomiting, dehydrated and begging for a way to finish. Mind check, completely detached. I was relying completely on grit at this point to make it to the finish line. The descent beat the shit out of my entire body, but i kept moving. Just put one foot in front of the other, thats all you can do right? FINALLY i saw a person, and they told me 1 mile to the finish. Then I saw Cat and she gave me a few hoots and hollers and really pumpd me up. I came to a gate...locked. Seriously? Wonderful park rangers decided to call it a day i guess. I shook and pulled, no luck. My clumsy, tired ass could not climb.  I decided to go Chuck Norris and kick it down instead...woops:). I began a final charge to the finish...i thought. I actually started heading BACK out onto the course in the other direction before Cat thankfully caught me and told me to turn around. I dont know where this burst of energy came from, from Cats amazing, inspiring demeanor...from the thought of finishing...or my supportive friends at the finish, it was everything. I ran that last mile with whatever I had left and crossed the finish line. The second marathon took me nearly 8 hours. I came to find out I was 5th to last, but less than 40 peeople actually finished.

This was a truly amazing race, I had an great time. Yes i put my body through hours and hours of pain. I lost about 8 percent of my body weight, I was sunburnt, kidneys were pulsing with a sharp pain, my feet were swollen, I had massive blisters, i was coughing up something not human, sinus infection was in full effect, couldnt hear out of my right ear...but i was on the other side of the finish line. Thats all that matters in the end. DFL is better then DNF and much better then DNT. Dead Fu$%ing Last is better than Did Not Finish and better than Did Not Try. I let the poisonous thought of quitting come into my mind, but not take over. I understand this was only 52 miles and there are much tougher and longer races around. But today this was my race, and thats all that mattered. The feeling I have right now is failure. Not in the way many of you think though. Failure...my body and mind have absolutely nothing left to give. This failure was the biggest success of my life. I love this sport, the comradere and the people.

Jemez 50

To be honest this race was sort of a toss up for me. It's 3 weeks before my shot at the Big Horn 100, and was sort of treating this as my last big-big day before the BIG DAY at Big Horn. The Jemez 50k is a 33 mile trail run through beautiful Los Alamos, NM. It consists of 4 major climbs totaling about 7800 feet of total gain, with one climb that take you up 1700 feet in under 2 miles (aboout a 18% grade). I knew this race was going to be tough.....this was a complete understatement. I toed the starting line with 179 other fleet footed runners. I somehow got bumped to the front of the line, which was not where I wanted to be knowing I would be passed by a huge pack of runners at the gun.

The race starts with a half mile run down the road before you hit the trail and begin a 700 foot climb to Mitchell TH for the first big climb of the day. I ran pretty safely at the top 50% of the group at what felt like a pretty comfortable pace. I knew it would be a warm day so i had my hand bottle and a bottle at my waist with about 15 or so salt tabs.  I make it to MitcHELL still feeling comfy and begin this nasty climb of 1500 feet in about 2.2 miles. It was a tough haul but i managed to keep my position for whole thing. From a top its a solid 1000 foot drop down to the next climb. I took on this descent the only way i know how...recklessly. I pounded up on over rocks, streams and people. I gained a few positions on the way down and got the ol' quads warmed up. From there its about 1.5 miles on fairly flat terrain to the next climb. One section included a 15 foot ladder climb. This was interesting and funny, since i had forgotten to close my hand bottle, so i proceeded to drench the people on the ladder below me...woops.  We slogged along across a few streams and to the Caballo base. Caballo is the beast of the course. It take you straight up to 10,500 feet at the rate of about 850 feet vertical ascent per mile. This was pretty much a death march the whole way. My POS hand bottle spilled my remaining water all over me, which ultimately led to my shorts partly freezing over. I was not a very happy camper until i finally crested the summit of the mountain to a view I have never seen before. This was a panorama of prodigious wonder. I took it in for about a minute grabbed a fig newton to yet again fly down the mountain like a mountain goat on speed. I ran very hard and again gained about 6 or 7 positions on the group. I tossed my hand bottle at the aid station and continued on to the next climb(sounds fun right?). From Cabllo base to Pipeline it was a 3 mile, 1200 climb. I settle into a solid hike/run pace and managed yet a few more passes. From Pipeline to the Ski Lodge it is mosty flat/rolling. Who know what clicked in me but i just began to feel awesome. I rarely stared at my watch and just ran. I was around mile 18 with 15 to go. I found a solid clip on this out and back. This gave me a chance to see the leaders coming back. I counted off and found myself to be around 30th? or so. Zipped through ski lodge and back out to tackle the end of this race. I was 22 miles in and had covered about 6500 feet of vertical ascent. My hydration and nutrition were spot on. The scenery was like none other. I have been running in Colorado for 4 years and this was by far near the top of the list as one of the most gorgeous running courses. 

         Im well into the second half of the race, which is normally the beginning of my demise. Today was different, I was having a tremendous day and nothing could stop me at this point. I pushed this section strong and took it oneo Gauje Ridge at mile 25, then i heard something for the first time ever. The aid station volunteer told me i was near the top 20. This was great! But at the same time i knew that i might get out of hand trying to hold this position. I kept my wits about me and began to pick some people off. My legs were feeling very strong and I had enough left to run all the climbs and really pount the descents. I zeroed in on this man in all ty dye. He began a walk up a short climb and i just took this on full speed ahead to make the first late race pass. Then came a pretty scary series of falls. My legs were much tired than i thought. Every rock i was jumping over, my right foot would catch the top leading to me face planting. Luckily enough sand in the mouth and eyes is not a serious running injury. I also found a serious little hot spot in my shoes where a few rocks found a place to chill. At this point i would run my feet bloody before stopping. I pushed up another hill to make pass number 2, this sparked a fire in this man. We had a sweet little testosterone driven battle for a mile or so before he began to walk. I pull into the last aid station at Rendajia Canyon, with 1.9 miles to go. I was completely thrashed at this point. I took down a cup of coke and took a quick sponge bath. One last little climb out of the canyon and on to the finish. I make one more pass, and crest the climb and let out the biggest roar of my life. With a hoot-n-holler off my chest, i felt great!...for about 25 seconds. The wear and tear was catching up to me, but i couldnt bring myself to walk at this point. Coming off of an extremely tough 50 miler  a few weeks ago, i had to get my revenge. My arms went completely numb, my face followed. I was running on nothing but pute grit, determination and stubborness. I dug myself deeper and deeper into the pain cave with each step.....pavement. Im almost there, "suck it up and go rob!" i yell to myself. A quick loop around a park and onto a rock wall? I climb on my hands and knees and drag myself across the finish in the top 20! I clumsily trudged through the finishing chute and collapsed into the arms of my friend Lindsey, and onto the grass. SUCESS. I let out one more WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and throw my arms up in the air. This was the best race I have had in quite a while. Greg came over for a much needed high five and glass of water. My body desperately called out for a beer but no such luck. I continued my tradition of waiting for the next few people to finish to give them a big smelly hug and congrats. This is what the race is all about for me, not my time, not my position. Its the connection with the trail, and your fellow racers. Its about the adventure with your mind, body and spirit. I let myself be blinded by numbers at my last race. Today i ran free, and it paid off. Big thanks to Lindsey and Greg for the support after doing their own 3000 foot vertiacal half marathon. The JMTR is the best organized race I have been a part of. I will for sure be back. This race org. makes the USAT Collegiate Nationals look like a joke. They were on top of everything and made this an amazing day for everyone.

      3 weeks to the biggest race of my life, after today i have complete confidence in myself and my amaizng friends that we will cross the finish line on Saturday, June 18th as new people.

Big Horn 100

So definitely not what I was looking for. My first DNF from a race. But glad that it was due to an injury and not to something more in my control.

I started off great and ran well on the first big climb into mile 13 or so. I got off course for about a mile or so, and once I was back on track I ran into some stomach issues. I eased back and recovered from that going into Dry Fork at 17. From here we did a 3.5 mile out n back. Since i went off course i decided to just drop all my crap and run the 7 miler before stopping at the aid station. This part included an amazing stream crossing that took away any pain i had at this point. This was also my first chance to see everyone else out there. Everyone looked full of life and happy. I  made it back to the Dry Fork Aid station feeling great. Grabbed some food, changed socks and continued on following Chip. He provided great company for the next few hours.

We pulled into Cow Camp at mile 30. This is where the mud was pretty gnarly. Knee deep and shoe sucking in parts. I kept pushing and tweaked my ankle at around 28 or so. I was so focused on keeping my shoes on my feet that I ignored any pain. I had my second wind at mile 36 and ran great down this super fun 2000 foot descent.

 Came into mile 41 with a great mood and lots more to give. My feet were pretty bad from being soaked the last 10 or so hours. I changed shoes and got my headlamp on. 8:30 pm or so I began my trek out to the 50 mile turnaround. This section was rolling with a net climb through a pretty narrow canyon. The river below was RAGING.

We crossed a extremely sketchy footbridge over the river and pulled into another camp at 44 or 45. I still felt great, but the slow pace in the night put more stress on my ankle. I began to crater physically and mentally. I fell asleep on my feet a few times re twisting the same ankle 4 or 5 times. Amanda kept giving me simple questions to answer, and i would respond 30 seconds later with a completely off topic answer. "Rob, so what are you doing with your parents next weekend?"...my resonse..."Yeah Fort Collins brewery is pretty awesome".  I felt better in little spurts when i got to see friends. I ran into Chris, Kari, Ning, Chip, Pete, Victoria, Sheri, Eric and Cat. Seeing all of them gave me a pick up that lasted a few minutes before i sank back into my hole of delusion. The thought of quitting became a very, very, very painful reality.

 I came into mile 50 and sat down for the first time in 14 hours. Had some hot soup and trail mix, I tried to get up but no go on that.

I asked for some tape and went at my ankle. In the mental state I was in I taped my ankle like an ape with turrets, but it was the best I could do. I left and tried to run on it without success. Still being incoherent I began a slur of random conversation with Amanda. I crushed my ankle on a rock, and that was it for me. I could no longer put weight on it.

I Grabbed a stick to walk with and began the longest part of the race for me. A 5 miles “hike” through this canyon which took me about 6 or so hours. To put that into perspective....In the amount of time it took me to "walk" 6 miles I could have almost been back in Boulder. I knew at this point my race was over..but i still needed to make it out of the canyon. I felt worse for Amanda, she had to follow my sluggish pace in the freezing canyon. With each step came a piercing pain through my foot.

 Freezing and exhausted I FINALLY made it into mile 57 and gave notice of my dropping. This was the hardest decision I had to make, but it was necessary. I sat in this camp for hours and realized I still had 3 miles to go to get out of the canyon. Poor Amanda sat there at the camp freezing, while i sit in out out of consciousness. I tried to dry my feet and shoes off by sticking them in the fire. I would fall asleep and then wake up from the smell of burning rubber. I watched as people poured into this aid station for hours making their journey out and on the way home. I came into a state of depression from my 3 year journey to make it this far. I spent the rest of the long cold night sleeping in a camp chair by the fire with this REALLY, REALLY annoying girl yapping in my ear about god knows what.

I waited until day break and tried to get out and realized it would take me another 4 or so hours to traverse the rest of the canyon. The aid station volunteers were absolutely amazing and decided the best way out for me was horseback. HAHAHA…this Yankee has never ridden a horse, let alone in a freakin canyon with a raging river 600 feet below.

But with a swollen ankle, I figured why not...what better way to learn? Hopped up on casey the horse and went at it. Absolutely the scariest part of the race. the stretch from Narrows to Footbridge has some steeps and quite a few rocky sections. All i could envision was Casey bucking back and tossing me into the river down below. I cringed and clenched this poor horse as i leaped up and over boulders and streams, down the steeps. On the flat parts i was falling asleep on this damn horse and slipping off the side and would manage to wake up and pull myself back up before i plummeted off the cliff face. 3 miles later I finally arrived back to where my friends were. The race was over for me.

I gave it a go, Im happy with how I felt throughout the race. My legs felt absolutely fresh at mile 50, but my ankle prevented any forward progression. I know I was training and racing right, but just need to put the race together better next time. The fire is lit under my butt still, and will take another shot at this distance in late august.

Congrats to ALL, it was an amazing experience and i am honored to have been able to share such an experience with everyone.

Runner's Prayer

Accept our gratitude for the opportunity to participate in this contest and in the larger race of life. We accept with thankfulness the wholeness and well being which running contributes to our living. As running brings pleasure to our lives so may our efforts on this day bring pleasure to you, our Creator.

We give thanks for physical bodies wonderfully made. Help us to exercise good stewardship of the health, energy, and clarity of mind provided for our use. Bless our efforts in training to develop these gifts to their full potential.

Give us the strength to endure and the passion to persevere. Protect us from injury and illness. May we possess courage and character in adequate supply to meet the challenge before us.

We have been running our asses off for months now, our legs are ready

We have the proper footwear, our feet are ready

We have fueled smart for everything, our bodies are ready

We have envisioned the finish line over and over, our minds are ready

I do not ask for much, but Lord:

Give us strength, the strength to haul our bodies 100 miles.

When our bodies are hurting. When we are caked with mud. When we can taste the efforts through the blood sweat and tears we shed. When the only reasonable thing to do is to stop. When there is no light at the end of the tunnel. When we have lost the feeling in our legs. When our minds are completely detatched from any rational thought. When the poisonous thoughts of quitting seep into oru minds. When we can no longer fathom that next step. When we no longer have anything left to give.

Give us that stength to dig deeper than ever to continue.

Our bodies are saturated with your never ending strength, power and love whether we knew it or not.

Deliver us 100 miles from now safe and smiling.

Please place your blessing among each and everyone of us.

Remind us on this day and through all of life that we never run alone.