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