My watch alarm beeps at 2:30 AM on race morning. It’s time to wake up and get to the starting line for my first 100-mile running race.

Leadville, Colorado is still sleeping except for the 465 runners, their support crews, and spectators milling about the dimly lit downtown area. It’s a rather balmy 43F and runners are getting in their last minute stretches.

At 3:59AM the announcer excitedly states “The shotgun is cocked.” A minute later it blasts and we slowly start down Sixth Avenue, waving, chatting, whooping, and easing into our long day of running

Leadville Trail 100 Statistics

• Distance: 100 miles
• Climbing: 15,600 feet
• Elevation: 9,200 to 12,620 feet
• Cut off time: 30 hours
• Finish rate: 40% to 50%

Eventually we turn off the road and hit a trail that encircles Turquoise Lake. The sun hasn’t risen and as we make our way around the lake, one can look back to see a long line of bobbing lights moving along the lakeshore trail.

For this race I’m using the latest super-bright LED technology. My Black Diamond headlamp has four LED’s and runs for 100 hours on just 3 AAA batteries. It’s lightweight, adjustable, and a great choice for running.

At 6 AM I’ve run 13.5 miles and have reached the first aid station. I grab a couple PowerGels, fill the two water bottles in my waist pack, and continue on.

• My simple ultra-run strategy: Run comfortably on the flat sections, take it easy on the downhills, walk the uphills, and never stop moving forward.

The trail has been flat to this point, but that’s about to change as we begin climbing 1,200 feet over Sugarloaf pass. On this beautiful, gradual climb, the sun is rising and bringing the temperature with it. Once over the top, it’s very tempting to let it rip down the steep Power Line descent. But, remembering how the Boston Marathon downhills killed my quads earlier in the spring, I’m doing my best to show restraint. This is the price I must pay for living in a relatively flat state and for not doing extra hill work.

Another 10 miles clicks by and I’m at the second aid station. With more gel and water, I head out onto a 5-mile stretch of relatively flat asphalt road. My feet aren’t overly happy that I’m wearing my Saucony trail shoes on this hard surface, but I’m making decent time.

And with just another couple miles of gravel road, I’m at the third aid station and surprisingly enough, I’m in 17th place. That gives me that “Yeah, Uh-oh” feeling: “Yeah” I’m doing well, “Uh-oh” I’m starting too quickly.

The next 9 miles is on the rugged Colorado Trail, which follows the contours beneath Colorado’s two highest peaks: Mount Elbert and Mount Massive. This is some of the most scenic trail running I’ve ever done and it’s putting a huge smile on my face.

Blame it on the bliss or the hippie kids that pointed me in the wrong direction (“Sorry dude!”), but I went off course. I spent 15 minutes on a trail that climbed Mount Elbert – not a smart decision.

After 40 miles, I load up at the next aid station and start up the longest mountain pass on the course, the 3,400 foot ascent of Hope Pass. The arduous trail follows a fast-running mountain stream then switchbacks through the shaded forest before reaching the next aid station nestled between the majestic Mount Hope and Quail Mountain peaks.
The pack llamas seem unfazed as we speed hike past them towards the narrow, gravely summit. You know you’re in an ultra-endurance race when they rely on llamas to get supplies to the mountaintop aid stations!

Once over the top, it’s a long, fast descent to the ghost town of Winfield, the 50-mile turnaround point for this out-and-back course. From this point on, runners are allowed to have pacers who can run with you, carry your water, and keep you motivated.

ullen Watkins of Royal Oak has volunteered to pace me for a couple sections and we start with the most brutal one of all: the return up Hope Pass. It’s sickly steep as we monotonously stride upward, using trailside trees like hand railings. At this elevation, the sun is hot and unrelenting. We only pause to drink water and consume sugary gels.

As we pass tree line, the trail narrows to little more than a foot in width. It’s cut sharply into the side of the mountain and is littered with rock and scree. There are still many runners traveling towards Winfield and successfully passing each other on a narrow trail with poor footing requires a great deal of balance and a little bit of luck.

Once over the summit for the second time, Cullen and I reload on water, wave to the llamas, and start the long run downhill.

At the bottom I meet up with my parents, who are crewing for me. I remove my shoes and socks and slather additional Bag Balm (a petroleum jelly product made for cow udders) on my bare feet.

Continuing to the aid station, they put me on scale and note that I’m 17 pounds lighter than the day before at the medical check. The doctor doesn’t look too pleased so I start feeding him excuses:

“I had blue jeans on yesterday”
“I’ve been drinking plenty of water”
“I peed on the descent”

The last one worked as the doctor enthusiastically replied “now that’s what we want to hear!” I’m glad I could oblige.

The sun is starting to hide in the clouds as I alternate between power walking and running along the Colorado Trail. I hear the key is to get through this section before the nightfall and unless something goes horribly wrong, I should be fine.

Another 11 miles pass and I’m back at the long stretch of asphalt road. This time I switch to my road shoes and Cullen has rejoined me. Nonetheless, my time on this section is a half-hour slower than on the way out. Sixty miles is taking its toll on my legs.

But soon enough I’m in and out of the next aid station and once again running by myself under clear skies full of stars. As I run along the road I hear Simon and Garfunkel’s “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme” getting louder and louder. Around a corner and over a hill I come to a seemingly deserted house dressed in white Christmas lights with a stereo blasting away. I’m not sure if it was more beautiful than eerie, but it certainly was memorable.

Past the house, the route turns off road and starts the Power Line climb. I’m all too familiar with this as I climbed it a week earlier during the Leadville Trail 100 bike race. Without a bike in tow and the sun beating down on my back, this ascent is almost pleasurable.

About halfway up I see a light alongside the trail. Once closer I see it’s a runner resting if not sleeping with their head in their pacer’s lap. We exchange soft spoken “Hey’s” and I continue in moonlight.

Once again I’m over Sugarloaf pass, hustling as best I can downhill. With just over 15 miles to go, the route turns off a Jeep trail and onto a very rocky and treacherous singletrack. Soon my mental state of mind switches from determined to delirious. I swear I see a pop-up camper in the middle of the woods, and as I turn to check it out, I fall. Thankfully nothing breaks, so I get back up and awkwardly follow the green glow sticks that mark the trail. I later learned that this is called “speed wobbling.” I also learned I’m a natural at it.

• My Patagonia run clothing consisted of Long Haul shorts, Airius Crew shirt, Silkweight capilene, Endurance socks, Dragonfly jacket, Mesh running hat.

Finally, the trail turns back to road and I’m at the final aid station. The temperatures have dropped sharply perhaps to the high-30’s so I pull on my Patagonia Dragonfly hooded jacket and gloves. There’s just 13.5 miles between here and downtown Leadville, and if I stick with my pace I should finish under 25 hours and get the big gold belt buckle award a.k.a. la plata grande.

Back along Turquoise lake, the time drags by. A noticeable sprain in my left calf gets significantly worse as I misstep on a loose rock. I decide it’s time to stop pretending to run and just nurse this injured body home. Besides, I’m a notorious under-trainer and I have no business running all 100 miles. I’ve never run a 100 miles in an entire month much less a day.

Small groups of runners and pacers stream past and break up the long section. I glance at my watch far too often to see if I have enough time to break 25 hours at this slowed pace. Unfortunately ultra-running is not conducive to solving math problems. I think I have enough time but I’m not sure.

After a couple hours of mall walking and a thousand calories of Awrey Date/Nut bars, I’m back on the road to Leadville.

I pass a runner whose vision has gone and he can only see the reflective markings on his pacer’s shoes. He’s certainly not enjoying the large gravel on the road.

With less than a mile to go, I’m back on asphalt. I start to run down a hill and back up to the finish line. Merilee, the race promoter puts a medal around my neck. I hug my cold but enthused parents and hobble into the waiting car. It’s 4:34 AM. And while I was somewhat excited about finishing under 25 hours, I was more excited to be off my feet and in a heated car with my hand in a bag of chips.

It had been a long day.

Finishing time: 24:34:14
Finishing place: 41st overall
Sixth all-time fastest combined Leadville Trail 100 bike and run time
Sixth person to earn gold buckles in both events in the same year
First male: Chad Ricklefs, 17:23:18
First female: Anthea Schmid, 19:44:24 (5th overall)