Conclusions

It's November 23rd of 2011 and we are nearing the end or conclusion of this year; so hard to believe.  January seems long ago from a time perspective and yet as I searchingly turn sights to the past 11 months in an effort to discern clearly all my emotions; the time seems to have elapsed at light speed.

I don't want it to end...I can already feel myself separating from the year, moving on with life and other pursuits and focuses. You know how it is, at some point everything that happened in 2011 is referred to as, "remember in 2011 when..."  But life moves on and I will hold onto the memories, emotions, and experiences.


My last event this year was the NYC Marathon on Nov 6.  I signed up through the MMRF to raise money and race.  I was blown away by the generosity of everyone I contacted.  What started as a $2,500 goal quickly moved to a $4,000 goal and finally, together, we exceeded that with a final tally of $5,980 to fund research that covers 30 or so blood related cancers.  

The NYCM was more than just a marathon.  It was all about the experience. Jody and Bernardo are the natives, they were a large part of the reason I chose to live in NYC in 1999, I had so much fun visiting them and loved their life in the city.  They hosted us, while my Dad and Catherine jumped up from Charlotte for the weekend and we were all happy to have Dian and Herb join us from Maryland.  Here we are (sans Bernardo who is running, he started later than me), but we got a great photo of him on course with Catherine, right before we took this photo.

We had a phenomenal time all round!  You'll notice Bernardo lost his "r" at this point, he later blamed this on getting a hug from a large breasted gospel singer in Brooklyn...Jody was quick to adjust the cheering signs so we'd all be in synch.


Bernardo has now completed the marathon six times.  He does it with style, from his qualification races, to the preparation and finally the race...he just has fun!  He takes it seriously enough for sure, but in the end for him too, it's all about the experience and I feel blessed to have shared in the experience with him and with my family.


I am grateful for my family as it has grown over the years.  Catherine and my Dad celebrated their 20th Anniversary recently, a true milestone. I love them so much for who they are, what they've brought into my life and how they've shaped me. I am grateful for all that they do to support me, love me and certainly put up with some unusual and difficult shenanigans over the years.  Annie and I are excited to have them in the West next year for their celebratory trip.   

May you all find peace and wisdom in journeys.

No Limits

Ken from Leadville put it best, “You’re better than you think you are and you can do more than you think you can”.  I'll carry that with me for the rest of my life.  No one embodies this more than my good friend Tim Hammill, with whom I spent last weekend with racing in Tahoe.  While this statement's context is running, it truly has meaning in every aspect of our lives; whether it be in the role of friend, spouse, sibling, parent or child.

I am here to glean every life lesson, put it to use and reap the abundance of benefits.  Life is about learning for me.  Diving deeper into myself, reaching beyond myself, observing others and improving as a human.

After Big Sur I wasn't sure what I had left for another weekend of racing, but Tim made an enticing offer to join him and his energy and enthusiasm is hard to refuse.  First on the docket, a 72 mile bike race around Lake Tahoe.  Needless to say I was apprehensive, I've not been riding much this year and hadn't completed a training ride over 50 miles in over a year.  In expressing my hesitation and angst, Tim calmly instilled confidence in me like a warm blanket.  We awoke at 4am on Saturday to get situated and hit the road, the race would start at 7am.  Whizzing up highway 50 to South Lake Tahoe, I took some liberties regarding traffic laws and we arrived with less than 10 minutes to the start.  We discharged from the car and separately set about preparing our machines and selves for the assault.  There were few words exchanged and in minutes we both looked up at one another and saw we were ready to go; locked the car, jumped on the bikes and high-tailed it to the road just as the gun went off.  As we rolled out in front of the race, I almost got clipped my the lead motorcycle, Tim led the way and we did a U-turn and joined the front of the pack with hearts racing.  After a couple of miles we were settling into the peloton and relaxed.  Tim is an experienced and successful racer, he passed on words of advice as I nervously tried to steady my machine and keep a line without crashing at 30 mph.  I knew on the first hill he'd be gone with the lead group and I just needed to find some folks to work with the rest of the way around the lake.  Sure enough as we approached the first major climb to Emerald Bay, Tim started positioning himself in the front and they all pulled away as if the rest of us were standing still.  I hoped to see him at the finish.

I managed to hook up with an abnormally large chase group, which was good since that offered more riders to take "pulls" at the front of our rag tag bunch.  I took my fair share of time at the front, particularly on the hills early on.  We found comfort together, spurring each other on, thanking each other for pulling at the front and made our way to the final climb where we totally disintegrated and a pack became triples and pairs.  As I rolled up to the finish line, there was Tim, all smiles, congratulating me on completing the endeavor.  He finished 9th overall, almost breaking the 3 hour mark by less 30 seconds and claimed 3rd in his age group.  An astounding feat in a very competitive field.  He believed in me and I was grateful to carry that knowledge with me, especially in the beginning as I thought about turning around after 20 miles. His faith in me spurred me on to the finish line.  I love that about Tim, he has the ability to help you believe in yourself, even when you may have doubts.

We closed off the day and headed back to Sacramento for some respite with Alicia and Brynn only to do it all again on Sunday morning albeit a bit later, since the half marathon didn't start until almost 10:30a.  We arrived with plenty of time to hang out at a Starbucks and juice up on plenty of caffeine, made arrangements to meet Marv and Ann at the end and then realized we did actually need to take a bus to the start since the road was closed.  Luckily the buses were running late.  The course was from Rubicon to Pope Beach.  The gun sounded and we were off again. It was a slightly overcast and cool day, which we didn't mind and found a comfortable pace.  We were out front and feeling good.  The first hill was dubbed "the hill of hell" and oh did it live up to it's billing.  I was grateful though for all the hill training earlier in the year for Leadville, nothing seemed to compare to climbing Hope Pass in either direction, so I was comfortable and in my element, eased by the knowledge this was only 13.1 miles.  Up and the down and then up again to the final ascent out of Emerald Bay and then all down and flat into Pope.  We took 1st and 3rd in our age group and I pulled in at 4th overall.  Again, the cold lake water provided much needed relief for our muscles.
Ironically, 10 years ago I rode around Lake Tahoe on my own, it was fitting to return this year and do it again.  I am rediscovering myself through reliving experiences from my past.  But I have new perspective and depth.  It feels good.  I am grateful for Tim showing me I had more to give and believing in me to finish the race, thanks Tim!  I had a great time hanging out with Alicia and Brynn as well, it made me appreciate Annie and how much I was missing her.

Annie returned today from her trip, we were both happy to be back together and are getting excited to return to Boulder and check on the house.

"A man of courage is also full of faith." -- Marcus Tullius Cicero

The Expanse of Spirit

Over thirty days after Leadville and life has returned to normal, or at least as normal as it will be for the next 6-8 months.  In short, the week after Leadville we vacated our house for renovation, packed the car, harnessed the bikes to the roof and set out for California.  

I was feeling pretty healthy after Leadville and I had told myself in July and promised Catherine that if I felt good, I'd sign up for the NYC Marathon and raise money for a charity.



Life is a brief opportunity to do something prehumously. ~Robert Brault

And so I am embracing an opportunity, prehumously and since launching my fundraising efforts I have found no limit to the "expanse of spirit" that has been shown to donate and support me and the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.  We reached the $2,500 mark in 11 days and in another short few days, surpassed the new goal of $4,000.  I am speechless, humbled and grateful for the wonderful people that surround me, give me energy and demonstrate extreme conditions of compassion.

At the end of my race report I wrote about an altered state, feeling more alive and sleeping less. Feeling as if no challenge or obstacle could get in my way.  This is the feeling of the "expanse of spirit".  Leadville stretched me and I continue to find boundaries to soar beyond whether physically, emotionally or mentally.  There is a clarity in thought and vision in emotion.

As I climbed my first real hill on the slopes of Mt. Rose, the crisp morning air chilled my nostrils and my skin soaked up the morning sun. I would continue down and around the loop and find this perch once more before calling it a successful return to the trails after Leadville, completing 18 miles and over 4,400 feet of elevation gain.  Just in time for the Big Sur Trail Marathon the following weekend.  I have found relief and peace, I've done it, it's over and I can get on with the rest of my life.  But I just want to relish it, build on it and not take for granted the gifts I've been given.  I am stepping away and realizing in my space what is and is not a waste of energy.  I don't want to waste energy on frivolous or meaningless emptiness, I want to try and focus my energy on finding the emptiness between the pillars of my soul and focus on this:


"Dream and give yourself permission to envision a You that you choose to be."


The weekend was upon me before I realized, I left HQ for the coastal waters of Big Sur after presenting to American Honda...where I was able to showcase our personal commitment to the Honda brand by showing them a couple of pictures of our 1995 Honda Accord (really Annie's, but I've proudly adopted it and owned two Acuras in my life).  

I've never camped alone before in my life.  Have you? Try it, once.  You'll find expanse.  I ventured from beneath the marine layer hanging over Monterey and Carmel to the beautiful Alex Molera State Park(SP) off Highway 1.  I was prepared for some basic, simple car camping.  It was a half mile hike to the campground from the parking lot, one mile from the campground to the beach...oh well.  So I pitched the tent (yes, I needed to refer to the instructions - laugh out loud).  I made something that felt like fourteen trips to the car for stuff I thought I needed.  I settled into the campground and took a walk to the beach.  While camping alone I recommend bringing the following: 1) journal for writing and drawing 2) books and magazines 3) some sort of sleep aid (name your poison).


Campgrounds are very different than hotels...guest friendly.  It's communal.  It seemed like everyone around me felt sorry for me and wanted to chat it up, which I greatly appreciated.  I met a nice couple from San Diego but more or less I was on my own, which was good...I wrote a lot, drew a lot, thought a lot, expanded  A LOT.


Saturday morning brought the end to an entirely miserable night of sleep.  I was so happy to find daylight, coffee and oatmeal.  I hit the starting line after Dave (Race Director) gave a great opening and we all sang America the Beautiful.  A very solemn moment in all honesty, standing there on the hills of the coast of California, defended in WWII, and shortly after the 9/11 anniversary.


I visited Alex Molera SP over 10 yrs ago...we ran the western trails that year, it was my first race back in the USA from Australia.  This year, as in the past few years, was run on the Old Coast Rd, which was the only road down the coast before Hwy 1 was built.  This year was different, coming off Leadville.  I had no expectation, but finished 10 minutes faster than my time 10 years ago, on arguably a tougher course with of over 6,300 ft of elevation gain (the old trail course was more like 3,000 ft).  I finished third, surprisingly, again.  I'm proud that in 10 years time, I'm still keeping up with myself from 10 years ago.

I closed out the weekend with a quick unloading and reorganization of the car.  Needless to say, everything smelled like a campfire, which in small doses is quite pleasant and comforting, but in overwhelming form, disgusting.  So I aired the car out as well.

It was kind a fun, I was near the Oracle HQ in a park I regularly use for running, I unloaded just about everything from the car, people kinda stared.  I looked homeless for sure, but here I was driving a not so homeless kind of car...very paradoxical for the ordinary bystander.  While this has been fun, I continue to miss Annie.


On Sunday, I popped over to Teague's house (Corrie's boyfriend - Corrie is traveling with Annie) and we commiserated together by taking his RC (remote control) vehicles for a spin.  He's got a pretty cool gig these days, developing an on-line lunar experience for kids using RC chassis carrying instruments to sample rocks, soil, etc.  As a part of this endeavor, he needs to practice his RC skills...which he is totally adept at...(click here).  We had a good time, great dinner with his roommates ad neighbors, all in all a pretty good weekend.


Next up...the Tahoe Marathon Weekend Update and further spirit expansion!










 

The Depth of Imagination

Over two weeks have now passed since crossing the line at Leadville, I awoke yet again at 4 am this morning to sit in front of this post and continue my journey.

I wanted this to be the best blog post I’ve written…intense yet tender, smiles and shivers, real yet ethereal…expectations really suck.  The words just have not come to me as easily as I’d expected.  So here goes, rewind to Aug 20^th…

My mantra was complete and I never faltered while repeating it to myself all day. Do you want to run all day?  I did.  Do you want to run into the night?  I did.  Do you just want to keep running no matter what?  I did.

Yes, I finished Leadville and had a wonderful and glorious 23 hours and 49 minutes as well as the days and hours before and after.  None of this was possible for me without the support of my best friend, partner and wife Annie, my pacer Stephen Price, my crew Scott Labat and Rachel Griego.  I’d also like to thank my cousin Andy, leading up to the race, he was a valuable source of information and inspiration.

“All the breaks you need in life wait within your imagination. Imagination is the workshop of your mind, capable of turning mind energy into accomplishment and wealth.” – Napoleon Hill

When you appreciate what the original race organizers Ken and Merilee have done for Leadville, you understand how their imagination, vision, persistence, unparalleled work ethic and passion brought the town of Leadville back from the brink.  The Leadville Race Series, is now regarded as a premier series of ultra events; thousands of athletes from around the world travel to compete at Leadville.

Belt buckles are very popular in Leadville, even more so if you’re a runner.  The Friday race briefing was nothing short of an Alice in Wonderland, spiriting down the rabbit hole experience.  I was in a haze from the week leading up to the race, the move out of our house almost complete, the gym was packed, hot and Ken was talking about the history of the race, the vision and through that more than once paused to collect himself as this year they officially transferred race operations and ownership to Lifetime Fitness.  Ken’s motto and reminder to all of us, “You’re better than you think you are and you can do more than you think you can” rang out.  We concluded the race briefing chanting this mantra as a group over and over again…goose bumps and adrenaline.

Friday night, dark clouds descended over the valley, as the sun set lightening streaked the sky, thunder ricocheted between the peaks and the waves of rain started in the west and quickly rolled toward us; drawing short, shallow breaths from me as my anxiety mounted and hit a crescendo as the deluge of dumps pounded on us as if a sick joke.  It’s been dry all week, pretty dry all summer, I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears.  I crawled into bed with trepidation after packing loads of additional shoes (5 pairs – yes, laugh) and every conceivable piece of clothing I brought that I could possibly use on course to either stay dry or warm.  More than anything I tried to pack courage into my soul and the reassurance that Scott, Annie, and Stephen were providing, “the sky is getting it out of its system tonight so tomorrow will be spectacular.”  Surprising, sleep came quickly as it did the two nights before, I think more than anything due to mental and emotional exhaustion.  The rain continued unabated as my lids grew heavy and I descended into my own sleepy blackness. 

The alarm at 2:30 am was a fire engine racing through my head, I snapped out of bed to the window only to find a sky dotted with brilliant stars against a deep obscurity.  Relief swelled on top of my already increasing adrenaline and excitement that I was finally going to get to run.  I’ve dreamed, conjured, imagined this moment in my life for a long time, but not more frequently than in the last 18 months.  It drove me out the door for a run when I wasn’t feeling good and awoke me in the night when I was restless.  In a way it’s haunted me too.  On January 30th of last year I wrote an entry that was my most vivid dream of reaching the starting line and what it would be like:

“The air is chilly, the early morning rays of sun are peaking over the mountain tops, filling the clouds with color. People rustle about making last minute adjustments.  There is electricity in the air and it's not an impending thunderstorm.  Race starts are exhilarating, full of opportunity and energy and of "what could be today".   I am present in my mind, body and spirit, it has all of me.  Every racer here has their story and is here for a reason, to conquer themselves and discover the outer limits of possibility, push beyond and arrive at a new place within themselves.  I am on that journey.

It's August 21, 2010, thirty weeks ago I started battling an infection and now I am standing on the starting line of the Leadville 100.  I draw inspiration from those that have battled far darker and menacing threats to overcome them and live again, I am only spectator to their trials.  I will run with heart, open my soul to the experience and complete a 10 year dream.  Ah, I love visualization.”

Well, it took until August 20, 2011, but it was well worth the wait.  There were no early morning rays of sun or color in the clouds, it was darker than the darkest night.  I swam among a sea of headlamps somewhere in the first quarter of the pack; at the top of the first hill I turned back to see the magnificent flurry of bouncing lights.  I had arrived.  Here is a link to some video (2011 Leadville 100 Start).

I settled into a quick but sustainable pace for the first couple of miles to get a good position in the train of lights that would lace the north shore of Turquoise Lake.  I fell twice on roots and rocks, banged up my knees and quickly slowed to preserve my body for another 94 miles.  I chatted with a few guys, saw a couple of friends and rolled into May Queen a bit ahead of schedule but with the welcomed sunrise.  That was the prologue, prelude…it was okay that I had tackled those early miles quickly.  I was having fun, my goal was to repeat my mantra all day long and roll into each aid station feeling like I hadn’t run 13, 25, 40, 50, 60 or 72 miles. I knew if I ran within myself all day, had fun and lived the experience to its fullest, I would finish with a smile.

I saw the crew again at the bottom of Powerlines (click here for video), changed shoes, started taking on more real food than we’d anticipated at that point and I was off again through Fish Hatchery and then to Treeline.  The sun felt good, I’d slowed my pace, 10s felt better than 9s as far as minutes per mile.  The road out to Treeline was uneventful.  It was still early in the race, everyone felt good, there was a lot of back and forth in terms of the lineup, but I wasn’t concerned about that, I just needed to run my race.

Treeline brought some much needed system relief (click here: honey bucket stop), Stephen made a great video that everyone loved, I just laughed, suited up and ran on.  Annie, Scott and Stephen were doing great.  Jovial and living the experience with me.  I really wanted to stay longer and share some experiences with them, but as it always is with me, I was already starting to take too long at each stop, but that may have benefited me as well.  I traipsed down the dirt roads wondering where the next aid station would be, the sun was getting warmer and before I knew it I was rolling down the hill into Twin Lakes, mile 40 and my next stop.  Those miles were a blur.  I could feel my muscle fibers driving me forward to my next goal.  I was introspective. I thought about every moment I’d laced up, the two trips to Leadville for training and all that Annie had sacrificed to support me over the last 6 months.  It dawned on me I’d wanted to thank everyone for crewing and hadn’t done it yet, damn.  Crewing is not easy and at times not fun.  There is a lot of hurry up and wait, traffic congestion, setup, checklists, uncertainty as to how I will be…it’s stressful.  As the day wears on into the night, they will not sleep and the waiting will get longer.  I needed to say something; my heart was filled with so much thanks and admiration for their trials to be there when I needed them most.

Twin Lakes was a zoo of people, the sun was in full glory and as I found flat ground running into the aid station as Annie found me.  Each time I saw her, I stopped and gave her a hug and a kiss and thanked her for this experience.  We found our “station” they’d setup in front of someone’s lawn and I sat down.  Scott checked my feet, I started refueling and slamming miso soup, turkey and Ensure.  Katy Hoogerwerf had arrived, Deb Davies and her family and Rachel Griego, I was overwhelmed with joy.  So many happy people here to wish me well. I felt amazing, I stood up looked south towards Hope Pass and told Scott this was what I was waiting for all day.  I wanted this mountain, I needed this mountain…my experience getting up and over the pass twice would define the remainder of the race for me, I knew that, I felt it in my soul.  In my two previous training runs over Hope, I’d built an inexplicable bond with Mother Nature and Hope Pass, her raw creation.  I found every time as I ascended her two opposing faces a tingling in my body, a reassurance that she would take care of me.  I respected her and all that she could throw at me on any given day.  I’d walk and absorb her beauty when I needed to, run when she’d allow me too, I would meld into her fold and find peace in the journey over her.  Damn…I forgot to thank everyone again.  I have to remember to do it at Winfield.

The heat was really settling in out of Twin Lakes, across the marshes and river crossings, up the face and racers were starting to feel the effects of heat, 40 miles and increasing elevation.  We hit the summit, Hope Pass, after pausing briefly at the “Hopeless” aid station where llamas are used to trek supplies to the tree line.  The people there were great, jubilant in there greetings and kind to the core, yet hardy in the soul. They’d be above tree line all day and into the night; they’d potentially suffer the wrath of the mountain weather later in the afternoon, but they’re unwavering commitment to the racers would stay true.

I took it easy descending to the Winfield road it was blistering by this point.  The sun was scorching the earth and the runners.  I’d been snacking on ham and bacon since mile 27 and I was starting to see the affects of too much salt in my system, my fingers were swelling.  I got to Winfield and it was a circus, so many people, so many cars…it was pandemonium.  Stephen found me just before the aid station and ran in with me, I’d arrived in 10 hours and 15 minutes and felt triumphant; I was under my projections.  I showed him my hands and we got a doctor.  Too much salt, retaining water, I needed to extricate it from my body.  I ate some watermelon, drank some coke and was told to get some more caffeine in my system over the next 10 miles to start peeing more.  I weighed in at 5.8 pounds over my registration weight, yep…too much water.  Most people weigh in under their registration weight, the doctor was astonished.  But while I was retaining water, it did also mean that I was eating well and keeping fueled as I ran. 

I sat down at our arranged “spot” and stopped everyone.  I could feel the emotions swirling inside me now.  I was halfway complete and felt so good, fulfilled, relieved, vibrant, excited to take on Hope Pass again.  I think everyone was a bit concerned when I stopped everything and looked into each of their eyes.  I had taken all of Hope Pass to think of the words I wanted to say.  I wanted to recognize their efforts.  I wanted to let them know I was having the time of my freaking life out here.  I wanted them to know it was because of them I was able to keep going and feel good.  I wanted to thank them for what they’d done and for what they were going to do for the next 13 hours into the night.  I was among my people today.  I was on the earth that has given me so much pleasure and peace in my life.  I was living a 10 year old dream.  I was within myself finding the inner broadness of my soul.  They looked at me and looked at each other and we were all a bit taken a back, I think the consensus was that the doctor had given me something more than just caffeine.  I rolled out my IT bands as they were starting to bark at me, Stephen suited up and I would now have him for the next 50 miles, how wonderful.  I spent almost 30 minutes at the turn, oh well, it was fun.

We trotted down Winfield road, I saw my cousin Andy, he looked strong, I was so impressed he’d ventured this journey on a whim, signing up on Tuesday, four days before the race, but he was ready and I knew he’d reach his goal today too.  The trail upwards was peppered with runners going in both directions.  We reached the top just as the weather started closing in, it started to rain lightly and we took a few precious minutes to enjoy the folks at the aid station, take a picture with the llamas, eat some incredible potato soup and continue down.

We started running into folks who’d been turned away at the Hopeless aid station due to the time cut-off.  It was earlier this year than in the past, more for safety than anything else.  Some folks were not too happy, we pressed on.  My IT band in my right leg really started to give me trouble, not sure why, except I’ve never run over 55 miles, go figure.

In Twin Lakes, it was overcast, Hope Pass was consumed in a rain cloud and Stephen and I were grateful to be through it without much mayhem.  At this point, mile 60, I was finally feeling like I had run a pretty long way, mainly because of my IT band.  I still felt good and was excited for the next 40 miles.  The statistics say that if a runner makes it back to Twin Lakes and mile 60, there is an 80% chance they’ll finish, I felt my odds were pretty good at this point as I was still under my projections slightly.  Most casualties occur between mile 40 and 60 due to mileage, elevation, altitude or nutrition.  Annie, Scott and Rachel had laid out a huge spread for me and I smiled as I walked up, they were awesome.  I rolled some more, changed shoes, socks, shorts, checked feet, ate whatever I could and checked in.  Stephen and I started the ascent out of Twin Lakes and I started to want pain killers.  Ibuprofen is frowned upon due to the altitude and dehydration factors, so Tylenol is a suitable substitute.  No one had any.  We were ambling along due to my issues, but still maintaining a good pace.  Stephen was great, leading me out since mile 50, just far enough ahead of me to pull me but not drop me.  As the daylight began to fade and dusk descended on us Stephen began to humor me as he always does.  At one point, and this is my most memorable moment of this section, he started to “high-five” the course markers hanging from the trees and thanking them for coming out to see us, they were our friends he said, showing us the way…I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, I wish I’d had a video of him.  I was so grateful to have him with me.  We’d talked off and on since our merger, he told stories, kept me focused and catered to my every need.

Finally we decided to call ahead to the crew.  Yes, he’d brought his iPhone and I felt weird using it to get help, but it is 2011, so we dialed up for some pain killers and to let them know I needed some help.  Annie was a bit startled at first, worrying that something might be wrong.  They found Tylenol in the First Aid kit I’d packed and we were all set.  She said she had some food surprises too.

I rambled to the car, headlamps adorned as the temperature started to drop dramatically.  I swilled the Tylenol down, rolled my legs some more and found comfort in their food surprises: avocados, rotisserie chicken, watermelon and honey.  I’d lost time on the last section and I was feeling the miles all over my body.  I was getting tired.  My watch had died so I had no idea how much time I’d lost.  I started to think about my 23:59:59 goal and the experiences of the day, I was satisfied.  I was completing a dream; I didn’t want the pressure of a time goal.  It was late, dark and cold…I just wanted to finish, I gave myself an hour buffer.  If I ran in 24:59:59, I’d still get the “big buckle”.  But I wasn’t racing for a buckle.  I wanted the experience.  I recounted all the emotions, expressions, people, places, scenery, days of training…I was here doing what I had set out to do finish Leadville.  So we ran.

On the road to Fish Hatchery something happened.  The Milky Way striped the sky as we ran under another brilliant sea of stars.  Stephen and I started doing “pick-ups” on the road, fast spurts of running to predetermined points ahead, we were feeling good.  We ran through Fish and I was starting to get a little delirious, not walking in a straight line, bumping into people, so I sat down for a second.  We headed out toward Powerline and started to hear music, as we rounded a corner someone had placed huge concert speakers in their yard and were playing Simon and Garfunkel among other great artists.  It was just the boost I needed as we were summoned by the crew on the road and I said, ”whatever you gave me last time, give it to me again, because I feel great!”  So we did the same routine.  I could tell the day had started to take its toll on all of us, even though everyone was in good spirits and happy to see me.  I’d made up some time and was looking to do it again on my way to May Queen.  Stephen and I power hiked the Powerlines, ascended Sugar Loaf Pass and as we were on the Colorado Trail, Stephen looked at his watch and announced he was in charge.  We’d not talked about pace or finish time for quite awhile, but now it was clutch time.  He asked me if I could run a three hour half marathon, I could still make my goal if we could run the last 13.5 miles in under 3 hours.  I thought silly, of course I can, then I remembered I’d been running since 4 am and over 80 miles.  I thought about it and said yes.  I told him I’d follow him, it was all I could do, I was starting to mentally fade in and out, the exhaustion filling my muscles and I was ready to be done.  He started rocketing down the trail in typical Stephen fashion passing people in a blur and I followed, rock for rock, step for step until we hit May Queen and found the car.  I only had 13.5 miles left, I couldn’t believe it.  There was part of me that could have just walked the rest of the way, but I knew I had more in me than that.  Stephen had just committed to getting me to the finish line under my goal, hell yes I had more.  The time had come to draw upon those runs where I reached my limit and pushed through, separating mind from body.  "There is no spoon".  These are the times when you peer into the depths of your soul and find the will and courage to push on past what your body is telling you, deeper into your imagination of what could be.

We blazed through the campground, on fire with possibility and launched onto the trail rejuvenated and sparked.  The night air was cool yet comforting, I’d been here before, I knew the trail.   I won’t lie, I was tired of all the roots, rocks and stumps, I was ready to get to the finish.  We thought we were on pace, but couldn’t quite know for sure as we had no distance gauge.

On the final dirt road, the final climb we experienced a surreal event.  The dirt road was littered with people that seemed to almost be standing still.  Why weren’t they moving?  I was starting to hallucinate again I think.  There was a lot of disorientation; one runner kept calling out his pacer’s name not realizing the guy had stopped 100 yards back.  No one was really talking.  We were inside 5 miles and we couldn’t believe it.  The question was, would we make the sub 24 hour goal?  Stephen indicated there was a light ahead, it looked like a street lamp, but we couldn’t be sure.  I’d run the first/final 2.5 miles on Thursday for just this reason, but it was not helping me in the dark much.

We started to do pick-ups again, the scenery became more familiar, pavement, 6^th Street…what time is it?  Do we still have enough time?  Stephen said, ”We have 20 minutes to run 1 mile”…I said, ”I just want to be done, you got me this far now let’s go home.”  We crested the hill, the last of the climbing, except for the slight incline to the finish.  It was ahead, the final goal.  We could hear people and music; see brilliant lights; the announcer squawking, the finish line in sight.  We would make it and we’d do it under 24 hours.  I was elated, I couldn’t contain my emotions; we pressed on faster and faster. 

Eighteen months of memories flashed through my head instantly, all those that kept me moving earlier in the day.  I’d arrived.  As we crossed the finish line, I grabbed Stephen’s hand and raised it in triumph and we broke the tape.  It’s a good feeling to set out to do something and be successful.  It was over.

I felt delirious.  Had we just finished?  Yep, as promised on Friday, Merilee was there to hang the finisher’s metal around my neck.  The crew was there; I’d seen them right before the line.  Now we were all in the finishing chute.  I started to hyperventilate; I walked a few steps further, away from everyone.  I started to feel something crashing inside of me, I needed a moment.  I crumbled to my knees on the pavement and sobbed, head to ground and thanked all who had helped me get to that moment.  I remembered the lady on the trail in April, I had completed a long journey, yes.  I got up and found each member of my team starting with Annie, which in retrospect, I should have saved for last, because the moment she wrapped her arms around me, I lost it again and had to use her for support to keep me upright.  They each had brought their energy, support and love to me through this crazy endeavor and I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.  Thanks to Stephen for the last 50 miles, our friendship grew, our bond even tighter than before.  He’d seen me suffer and carried me through it, I thought of the poem titled “Footprints in the Sand”.  I hope someday I can repay the favor.

Much has passed since completing the race on August 21^st.  Annie and I are completely out of our house living a “gypsy” life for the next 8 months during the remodel.  I made the trip to Oregon for Hood to Coast, and while I didn’t run, I did have fun with that band of brothers.  I shared stories and reveled in their appreciation and comradeship.

I seem to be in good health since completing Leadville and so I decided to complete another 10 year dream in 2011 and sign-up for the NYC Marathon, November 6^th.  I am fundraising for the Multiple Myeloma Foundation (MMF) in order to run.  I am happy and excited to run for charity, I’ve not done this in quite awhile.  Personally, I only know of a few individuals who have battled or are battling this cancer.  To learn more and donate to a worthy cause please visit my fundraising page here (http://www.active.com/donate/2011mmrfNYC/JDUDAIII).

In conclusion, I am altered in yet an indescribable way, but I will work on that in coming posts.  No challenge seems too difficult, no obstacle too high.  I am sleeping far less these nights, I feel more alive.

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
T.S. Eliot

A week never felt so long!

Cotton mouth on every outing, twitchy legs, mental gymnastics, unexplainable twinges, emoting for no reason, irritability, anxiety, doubt, excitement, uncontainable energy, the finish line in your head, list making, pace making, gear piles, shopping sprees...it's been a busy week.

I took Monday off, completely.  Tuesday I did a short, strong 6.6 miles along with yoga and a short swim to try and keep things loose.  Wednesday I climbed on my bike for the first time in weeks, it felt great.  The weather that morning was more reminiscent of San Francisco than Boulder, but I loved it.  Thursday brought a nice recovery run where I paid reverence to foothills and plains that have been my playground in this from the beginning, " third eye center, the light in me bows to the light in you".  I have a story to share...

Back in April, before my comeback 50 in Fruita, I was running up the Kiln Trail and rounded the bend to find a wise looking old woman standing, facing the foothills, praying with hands clasped in front of her and bowing.  I've seen her countless times in the morning around Wonderland Lake, she's ardent in her walking, bent forward, head down, pushing forward as if moved by powers greater than herself.  That day on Kiln, she turned as I passed, our eyes met for the first time and she smiled and said, "it's been a long journey for you, but the trails will be good to you my son."  I knew then I would find peace with myself and complete the journey I so desperately sought. It was a simple, non symbolic exchange, but I told myself, she somehow saw into my soul and knew me, knew everything I'd been through, everything I desired...who knows, maybe she did know or maybe I just looked like I was out for a long run.  When I reached the top of Kiln only another half mile and turned around arriving shortly at the spot we met, she was gone.  She wasn't at the bottom of the trail junction either...my hallucinations didn't start until a few weeks ago, but it is likely she wondered off the trail into the golden meadows on the foothills to find her own peace.  After the race in Fruita I went back to the Kiln trail to give thanks just as I did this week, I felt completed, assured in my preparation.

To the right, the sun is breaking through on Wednesday's ride.  Friday morning I climbed back on my bike again, it felt so good to be riding. I squeezed in a short 4 miler at lunch and got my final massage today from Molly.  I feel worked, but in a good way.  I have seven days to recover.  Everything is going according to plan for the most part.  I'll hopefully arrive in Leadville late Monday night and get at least 3, maybe 4 good nights of sleep at 10,200 before Friday night.

There is no telling what race day will hold for me.  I am grateful for the chance to partake in this journey, it has been something I will remember for the rest of my life and why I have this blog to remind me and to hopefully share with my children.

"A very great vision is needed and the man who has it must follow it as the eagle seeks the deepest blue of the sky."  - Crazy Horse

Two weeks and counting...

The Pain Chronicles are complete, I don't know what to call last week and the next two...maybe the "Serenity Chronicles". While I came off my last weekend in Leadville with the feeling that I just wanted three more weeks of "ramp", I don't have them, the race is in three weeks. I felt so good all weekend, but it's important to hold onto that feeling and not wish for anymore than my body has already given me.  


That "feeling" is best captured in a recent exchange I had with myself: Do you want to run all day?  Yes.  Do you want to run into the night?  Yes.  Do you just want to keep running no matter what?  Yes.

 After a couple of really long, hard weeks, I know I probably need a break regardless.  Even though this week totaled just under 60 miles, it felt as if I hadn't really run at all, which I guess is good. I took Monday off, tempo runs on Tuesday and Wednesday, Thursday off, Friday was a near 20 miler with almost 4,000 ft of elevation gain, Saturday was a 10 miler with Clint including a Green Mountain ascent and pickups at the end for just over 3,000 ft of elevation and Sunday culminated with an epic run in the Springs with my cousin Andy to work out some pacing for the race.

No matter the preparation, you just don't know about race day, but you can't think about that.  I just keep replaying the earlier exchange about the "feeling" in my head over and over again.  I go to sleep thinking about the course, I dream about the course, I awake thinking about, yep, you guessed it, the course.

This is a 10 year dream, squelched last year due to my recovery and yet here I am.  Even If you had asked me as late as April if I'd ever run a 100 miler again, I'd of said no way.  

The weekend culminated with an ascent up Pike's Peak with my cousin Andy. He'll be with me in Leadville, on course, pacing and we'd never actually run together in our lives.  It was good to get the time in with him and do something I've never done, summit a 14'er. Pike's Peak is 14,100 ft.  We had a good, easy jaunt from Elk to Barr Camp and then 4,300 ft of elevation gain up to the summit, a welcomed departure from more strenuous runs during my ramp up in training.  We caught up on over 20 years of life, shared some observations and explored our family dynamics.  We hitched a ride down to Elk and completed the day with an awesome burgerfest at Cy's.


Two weeks and counting, yes.  I've got plenty of distractions, but do need to focus on some preparation stuff.  All in all though, I feel good. I'll be rested for the race, injury free (other than stubbing my big toe this morning), fueled, acclimated and ready to have some fun.  I only have to run 30 miles this week amongst some yoga, swimming and cycling.


There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. - Albert Einstein

"There is no spoon."

Last weekend I had an ongoing dialogue in my head, it was Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen commentating the Tour de France in my head as we ran for 10 hours on Saturday.  This weekend it was The Matrix:

Spoon boy: Do not try and bend the spoon. That’s impossible. Instead… only try to realize the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Spoon boy: There is no spoon.
Neo: There is no spoon?
Spoon boy: Then you’ll see, that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.

This weekend marked the end of my training "ramp" and the start of my three week taper for the Leadville 100 on August 20th.  Annie had organized for us to be joined by the Wall family (Clint, Kirsten, Sierra, Kaia) and Stephen Price this weekend to wrap up my training with some big days and fun as a group.  We had loads of both.


Clint and I drove up late Thursday night to get an early morning run in on Friday before the gang showed up.  Clint and I clocked in at the Golden Burro, a classic eatery in downtown Leadville before heading out.  We both had the "Miner's" breakfast and had no concern for that huge biscuit sitting in our stomachs for too long.

We made our way to Twin Lakes, ran into a guy who assisted us with directions.  As I have found continually in my time in Leadville, the course does not "reveal" itself all that easily.  We decided to opt out of the deep river crossing and head a bit west to cross on a bridge and hook up with the course trail for the ascent up the front side of Hope Pass.   After we left the car, suited up and ready for an attack on the mountain we again, asked for directions a few times.  We finally came upon this sign to confirm our direction.  Willis was a famous miner from Winfield who made and lost a fortune in gold back in the day.  But it was clear what direction we were headed in for our fun.  The front side of Hope as we found, is much more forgiving than the back side.  It's a gradual climb in comparison and sheltered for much of the way through a gulch until you reach the timberline.  Clint and I were feeling good after our huge breakfast and found the altitude to be satisfactory for the occasional giggle and breathtaking awe of the beauty we were traversing. 

We soon found ourselves above timberline and relishing the 360 degree views.  We'd had a pretty good run thus far.  The weather was excellent, we felt fueled and found good conversation to the top.  At the top of the pass we took a break to assess the developing weather systems to the south and west, eat and enjoy our first accomplishment of the day.  The trail had been peppered with others training on the course and we found kinship in the experience.  At this point we decided to descent the back side and "hope" the weather held for our return ascent.  We reached the bottom without fail and hit the road to Winfield for about a mile and half and then turned around as the weather was developing pretty quick.  The return to the back side ascent brought me back to my time with Annie two weekends ago when we had done this together.  There is comfort in knowledge.  I knew the steepness, I could practice what sections to run on and what sections to "fast hike" to conserve precious energy.  I knew all of these experiences would be beneficial come race day when I might be in a fog mentally by this point, but knowing what to tell myself would help keep me on plan.

 
We hit the pass just as weather was closing in, but not yet unleashing.  Come race day in late August there will be an even greater probability for inclement weather.  First, it will be much later in the afternoon when I return over Hope Pass for the trip home to the finish and second it's just the nature of the weather patterns as the summer days dwindle and we enter the fall season.  I can expect potentially drastic temperature drops, excessive wind, driving rain, pelting hail and wet snow as well as severe lightening...or it'll be a day like it was Friday...awesome!  We made it back to the car just as the clouds closed in around the pass, thunder and lightening rocked the sky and we could no longer see the place from which we'd just come.  That was a close one.  We completed almost 17 miles and 6,300 ft of elevation gain, it was a good start to the weekend with a good friend.  Thanks Clint.


We arrived at the house, met up with the girls (all four of them)...and had an enjoyable evening together.  It was nice to have everyone around and distract me from focusing on the training and race too much.  Sierra and Kaia are awesome kids and a lot of fun to be around. 

Saturday morning brought anxiety, I was going to run alone for a large section of the course.  The plan was for Annie and Kirsten to drop me off in Twin Lakes and for me to run north on the course roughly 27 miles to May Queen on Turquoise Lake.  Clint and Stephen would start at May Queen and meet me somewhere on the course and then run back with me.  Your mind can play tricks on you, psych you out and reek havoc.  Did I have enough in my legs after the week of miles and huge climbs from the day before?  Would I get lost?  Would I meet up with Clint and Stephen or would we all get off course and run around each other.  I needed focus, so the "spoon" was my mantra for miles and miles.  This section of the course was my least favorite.  After a beautiful ascent out of Twin Lakes on the Colorado Trail and fun single track, I was launched onto jeep roads totally exposed to the early morning sun and heat.  I was "contouring" north along the bases of Mt Elbert, Mt Massive and finally turning east to the flatness of the valley before returning west to the Fish Hatchery for my final ascent up the famed "power lines" to Sugar Loaf Pass and then the descent into May Queen.  I ran hard the whole time, stopping a lot to check the map and compass, there are just no markers of any sort to put your mind at ease.  I'd run hard for a few miles get to a junction, stop, take out the map sweat dripping onto it, orient with the compass, confirm position and start running my heart out again.  
 
I actually called Annie a couple of hours in to checkpoint, I was actually on schedule.  The boys had left just a bit ago, which meant the plan would work to meet up with them on the power lines trail ascent as I'd hoped.  I started exchanging texts with Stephen as I ran (don't you love technology these days) to see where they were and we were on a welcomed collision course.  By this point the sun and heat were relentless, I'd stopped at the Fish Hatchery to get a refill on water and again ask for directions.  I finally made it to the turn off for the power lines but would have passed it without the assistance of some mountain bikes training for the LT100 mountain bike race.  I ran on, hard.  Running the hill and about 3/4 of the way up ran into Stephen and Clint, I was so happy to see them.  We crushed the remaining ascent and headed over Sugar Loaf to stop and eat and gaze out over the lake.  I was nearly done, so close, just one more descent and 4 miles or so.  We rolled into May Queen and I walked literally, shoes and socks on feet, into the lake and sat down in chest deep water.  I was done as I gazed upward to the spot we'd stopped to eat overlooking the lake.  Nearly 27 miles and 3,700 ft of elevation gain and over 5 hours of running (and stopping).  I got emotional, I teared up, I couldn't talk.  Every inch of my body was tingling.  I had made the decision the night before that I needed to do a large part of this run on my own, I needed to feel what it would be like to be out there without anyone.  I needed to feel what it would be like to see people and get a pacer after pushing myself, alone. 

I needed to see, that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself. 

I have three glorious weeks ahead of me to find comfort in knowing I've done all that I can do to prepare for this race that eluded me a year ago as I was recovering.  I've rediscovered dormant drive I once knew and had missed.  A physical/psychological drive that only comes with pushing yourself beyond limits over and over again.  I've discovered new enlightening aspects of life that I'll cherish forever. How love can truly conquer fear in so many parts of our lives each day and how grateful I am for the love of my life.  

Annie has been my biggest supporter and even when I didn't think I had it in me, she knew I did.  She practically threw me out of the car on Saturday morning (figuratively), because she knew if I thought about it too much longer, I'd change my mind...she knows me so well.  She has been an amazing spirit on this journey and I can't wait to collapse in her arms on Sunday, August 21st, knowing I couldn't have done this without her by my side, knowing just what to do when so I got what I needed, a push out the door or arms to melt into after it was all over.


"I'm trying to free your mind, Neo. But I can only show you the door. You're the one that has to walk through it" - Morpheus

The Pain Chronicles Part II: Pawnee/Buchanan Loop

I had a good week after returning from Leadville last weekend.  My legs felt good, I was in good spirits with only two more BIG weeks of running left before I start the taper.

Saturday, Clint Wall and Stephen Price joined me for an assault in the Indian Peaks Wilderness on the Pawnee/Buchanan Loop, but it was us who were assaulted instead, what a tough day.  

The positive side to this run was that even though an estimated 7 hour run turned into just over 10 hours, we completed the loop and it was good training to bank that many hours on my feet, run with wet feet and run in compression socks (I'd never tried this before).

Pawnee Pass sits at 12,541' (and is the initial picture at the top of my blog) - Buchanan Pass sits at 11,837'.  We did a counter-clockwise route, tackling Buchanan Pass first and then Pawnee, our preferred route. On a normal, clear summer day the Pawnee/Buchanan loop is gnarly sick in terms of elevation gain (~6,900), altitude (average 10,700) and mileage (roughly 26 miles, it took us over 27 miles, but I'll get to that). We ran this together a few years ago and were caught in a thunderstorm ascending Pawnee Pass on the way back to the car...not fun.  This time though we had clear, blue skies and sun the whole way, but the trail was not as we remembered it.

Leaving Mitchell Lake just before 8am, we encountered snow an hour or so in and lost the trail, found the trail and lost it again and again until reaching the treeline on Buchanan Pass (some 5 miles later). This kind of traversing is mentally and emotionally frustrating.  Stephen is an expert in orienteering and the three of us helped locate and relocate the trail time and time again.  We'd hit a snow field and spread out in three directions across it to the other side trying to locate the trail. If no trail was found, we'd pull out the map and compass and make our own trail.  It was comical at times, like the Three Stooges. By the time we reached Buchanan Pass we were exhausted from all the start/stops and navigation. We descended the backside and were grateful for the absence of snow over the trail, but soon found other obstacles.  

Half-way through we had a few deep creek crossings that were pretty treacherous, Stephen took this as opportunity to teach Clint and me the proper way to cross as a team; form a triangle, interlock arms, each take turns taking a step and securing footing.  On that crossing, there was a small waterfall just below us, so I was grateful for the care and attention to this crossing and Stephen's knowledge and experience.

Long sections of the trail, all the way up to Pawnee Lake were blocked with trees that had fallen due to late snow and strong winds, an insane amount of trees.  We reached one section in the valley below Pawnee Lake where it was as if the hand of God had swept through the valley decimating the forest leaving a wake of destruction.  I've never seen anything like it in my life, to be there when it happened would have been soul shuttering.

The backside of Pawnee Pass is stupid steep, it's so steep as you traverse the switchbacks it's like you are scaling the side of building, one wrong move, one miscalculated step on the large, loose boulders and the whole thing, with you trying to surf it, is going down the nearly 3,000 foot vertical face. On the last few switchbacks the steepness prevents you from seeing the mid-section switchbacks below.

We took some relief on top of the pass, played hide and seek with a marmot and continued the descent.  We were over 7 hours in at this point and getting punchy...we hit some snow fields and decided to have some fun, sledding on our butts down the incline.  We rounded Lake Isabelle's north side and arrived in the parking lot after 6pm, we'd been out all day, it was unbelievable.

Both Stephen and Clint are really good sports, always positive and up for anything.  If you've got to be out on a run that takes over 3 hours longer than you expected (or doing anything else for that matter), these are the guys you want to be with. They were a good balance to my sometimes quick move to frustration in some of our situations.

In the end, we conquered our goal, had some fun in the sun (and snow) and most of all supported one another through a very arduous day in the mountains.  We were witness to nature's treasures and destruction, together.  I'm grateful to call Stephen and Clint friends.

They'll be with me again next weekend in Leadville for my final big push.

All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. - Chief Seattle 

The Pain Chronicles: 2 days on course in Leadville

A friend suggested I name my updates for this weekend the "Pain Chronicles" which I love and so I did, thanks Paul Wehner.

After returning from South Dakota, I've been nervous, even scared at times.  I was extremely apprehensive going into this weekend, but I knew I had to do it sooner rather than later.  While the terrain and weather made the Black Hills course extremely tough for the AD4AP team, my challenges will be altitude and mountain passes.  The sooner I got my ass to two miles above sea level and running/hiking some of these hills, the better.

Annie accompanied me this weekend and is a great training partner for this, other than being my wife and best friend, she is no stranger to altitude and mountain passes having trekked in Nepal on the Annapurna Circuit at elevations twice the height of Leadville or anything I will encounter during the race.  Nothing really phases her either so animals, taking a wrong turn, weather....she just rolls with it, which is perfect.

Saturday, we took a leisurely morning and then headed toward May Queen on the far end of Turquoise Lake stopping at the Timberline Lake Trail Head, no need to run roads...I know what that's like.  The views of the lake are amazing and we started up the Colorado Trail.

We started discussing race strategy and it was clear this little piece of single track trail was going to be moderate to difficult on the way out, but on the return and most likely in the dark very troublesome requiring a good deal of mental acuity and attention (this section is between 76 and 86 miles into the race).  For my BH100 guys, this section resembled that son of bitch trail between Dalton and Elk.  We hit Hagerman Pass Rd (dirt) and then turned left on the 105A 4wd double track...the 105A was studded with boulders, but overall the ascent to Sugar Loaf Pass was pretty good.  We returned down the Colorado Trail from the top for a change of scenery and I quickly appreciated not having to climb it the whole way up or go the whole way down, it was even more steep and technical than the first section.

While ascending to the top of Sugar Loaf I started to get a weird feeling and even more so on my own running back from May Queen to Leadville.  Here's the deal, I can't figure out if seeing almost the entire course from almost any vantage point is a good thing or a bad thing. It's just utterly expansive.  The thought of running 100 miles is daunting enough, but seeing the course splayed out in front of you with mountain tops looming in the backdrop is just absolutely overwhelming.  I ran on.

Annie dropped me off at the May Queen camp ground, I loaded up, changed shoes and set out for the first and last 13.5 miles of the course.  Again, single track, narrow and technical in parts and again probably nothing to worry about in the beginning but it does represent miles 86.5 to 100, mindfulness a must.  Just to get the experience out of the way, I did wipe out once across a small run-off section, dinged my knee pretty badly, but I think it will be okay.  And then the feeling set in again as my gaze wondered across the lake to Sugar Loaf where Annie and I had been a couple hours earlier and again as I rounded the lake and could see the majestic mountain tops lined up to the south....oh boy.  I ran on.

I got lost a couple of times on my way back to Leadville (the course isn't marked yet).  No sweat, I wasn't worried, the course will be marked on race day and I am pretty sure now after re-examining the map where I should have gone and didn't.  I rolled into our pad and felt pretty good overall, day 1 - complete.

Andy (my cousin) was here in Leadville this past weekend racing the Silver Rush 50, it was his 4th 50 mile race this season, what an animal.  He and Melissa stopped by on Saturday to say hello and drop off maps and other race material that will be invaluable in my preparation.  We had a nice chat and it was great to meet Melissa.  We were on the top floor of a converted turn of the century hospital building, condos and lofts.  We'll be here again for the race, thanks to a good friend.  The view is spectacular, in fact you can see the entire course from downtown to Hope Pass (just not the backside of Hope for obvious reasons).  Andy pointed this out and I shared my quandary with him, to see the course or not see the course...it's so expansive and the view is unforgiving when you consider running from point A to point B and back.  I continue to ponder.  So in my pondering of this weekend, I did arrive at the realization of how blessed I am to have the opportunity to preview the course like this and have Andy and others sharing their experiences.  It's a gift to be here this weekend and the upcoming other weekends I will travel here to prepare, I won't squander the gift I've been given.

Sunday brought us to Clear Creek Rd, Winfield and Sheep Gulch trail head for the backside ascent of Hope Pass.  I'll spare the details, but we had a false start and then figured out, yes, we were in the right place.  This will be a relentless assault on the body, mind and spirit on race day for sure. To the right, the 2D picture really doesn't capture the absolute astonishing grade of this trail, we made our way  through the lower trees and aspen groves, which come September will glow yellow, orange and red.

We soon found the treeline and more forgiving switchbacks through rock fields and clearing.

There was an old cabin to the right of the trail with a spectacular view of the valley and opposing mountains.  A great spot to stow away during a massive storm.  We reached the Pass, the temperature dropped, the wind whipped over the pass as if being pushed through a tunnel. Here we are at the top, Leadville is way off in the distance.  The views and acknowledgement that you've made it here on foot, unassisted, to gaze upon the glory that is our gift - the earth, the feeling is inexplicable...you get goose bumps, there is a profound sense of smallness, humility... I ponder at the top of the pass, Annie asks what's wrong...I can't speak it, I can only feel it, I need to get down and assess the reaction I've just had...

..and we descend back to the trail head.  We were very fortunate, given our late start, that we had no weather.  In fact as we were on the pass, the sun came out and heated everything up considerably, yet another consideration for race day.

We packed up late Sunday and headed home.  Two more weeks left in the "Pain Chronicle" which will be like nothing I've done to my body, mind and soul.  I'll have to dig deep, find the discipline to get out there even when my legs feel dead, my spirit seems at it's limit and mind is recoiling...

"When a man stares into the abyss and sees nothing but darkness, this is the time that he finds his character. And it is his character, that keeps him from falling into the abyss."