Leadville Silver Rush 50 - 7/17/2011

Prelude:

I thought I’d come back from Leadville with an epic race report, almost equivalent to the course itself, as dramatic as the mountains we climbed, as breathtaking as the views from 12,000 ft. I thought I’d have stories of pain and suffering that could last for all time. I used to think writing was easier than running. Now it’s almost the opposite. I don’t know what to say.

What Were You Thinking?

There are a few reasons why I decided to run Leadville 50:

1) Lauren proposed it to me during a morning run one day, and then followed up by reminding me that I couldn’t say ‘No’ to a run;

2) Rodney talked about having another baby and I wasn’t ready. In fact, I think I can be quoted as saying “I’d rather run 50 miles”; and

3) After doing the research with the intention of talking Lauren out of it, I was hooked. It seemed completely impossible that someone like me could complete an event of this caliber and live to tell/write about it.

Metamorphosis:

When I registered for the Silver Rush 50 Trail Run in February 2011, I only ran 30-40 miles per week. I never ran at altitude. I never ran more than 26.2 miles at any given time. I never ran more than 7 miles on a trail. I never exerted myself for more than 4h9min. I had no clue what I got myself into.

I feared for my life (and consequently Taia’s life) so I jumped into a self-written, web-researched, ultramarathon training cycle.  My prime focus was building mental toughness. I knew with my mediocre athletic ability and speed, my ability to endure extreme conditions and pain would call for strength and courage from within. It was exciting and scary, but I was committed to surviving Leadville.

I became a morning person. My alarm was set for 4:20 a.m. every day. I ran in the snow, on ice, wind, rain, and even hail. I ate smaller portions so I could run at the drop of a hat or the commitment of a babysitter. I ran all and any times of the day. I ran on the treadmill during naptime. I ran on vacation. I ran on the track every Wednesday. I ran at night when Rodney and Taia were asleep. I ran whenever and with whomever. I ran with BOB. I ran with Milo. I ran with other people’s dogs too. I ran for as little as 20 minutes and as long as 6 hours. I was addicted to the Weather Channel app., Andrea Rich on WOWT and watching for lightning, which was the only thing that could stop me. I surrounded myself with only encouraging, positive people. When my long runs got longer, and the Lincoln Marathon was run and done, I had to dig real deep to run on, alone.

From the time I signed up until the day of the race, there were 13 runs that were 20 miles or longer. I retired four pairs of running shoes, with five others in rotation. I ran a total of 1241 miles. I don’t even want to know how much food I’ve consumed.

Goals:

1.     To survive the day.

2.     To make all the cut-off times (34.5 miles in 10.25 hours, 40 miles in 11.5 hours, Finish in 14 hours).

3.     To finish in 12.5 hours or less (15:00/mile pace).

Race Report:

When people ask me what the 50 was like, I’m not sure what to say, how to describe it. Maybe you had to be there. Maybe you have to be in here (I’m holding my heart). There are two parts: the physical race itself, the course and how I handled it. Then there’s the mental aspect of it - the mind games, inner mantras, thought processes, confusion, amnesia, breakdowns, self doubt, and then revival. There are so many things that can go through the mind in over 12 hours.

There were three runners: Lauren, Greg and Me. There were five crew members: Lauren’s husband, Jeremy; Greg’s Uncle Jim; Rodney, the group photographer, Linda who helped and encouraged everyone and anyone, and Gina who was my personal FB publicist, videographer, and crew (sanitation, hydration, nutrition, sunscreen, and wardrobe changes).

The Start: At the start of the race, I’m not nervous. I am ready for anything and everything. I expect the worst, but trust that I trained to the best of my ability with the resources I had available to me in Omaha. Either way, it is too late now. After miles and miles, both run and driven, through adventures, setbacks, and drama, here I am:  Standing at the start line at the bottom of a stupid steep, sledding hill called Dutch Henri. Who the hell starts a race - mountain bike and/or run, like this?

Ah yes, the Leadville Race Series people.

To Black Cloud: I calmly walk the hill because I know my fate if I move any faster – I’ll be lying face down in the rocky grass at the top, looking for a breath to catch (did it the day before). Once we hit the top it is on as we, as a pack of people, run through the woods on dirt roads, dodging puddles and rocks, quickly ascending the 7 miles to the first aid station called Black Cloud. I feel great besides the fact that I need to pee but am stuck waiting in a stagnant line of other runners that probably had to go since the start.

After a quick visit to the porta-potty, I am off again, making good progress, maneuvering through, around, and over the loose rock, flowing snow-melt water, and mud on the double track. I have 6.5 miles before the next aid station and I know I am way ahead of my goal. It actually scares me to be that far ahead. I keep repeating to myself “slow and steady”.

Black Cloud to Printer Boy: At some point we start a climb into the Iowa Gulch. I learn early that when experienced ultrarunners nearby slow down to a walk, it's time to get my Jody Power-Walk on. I’ve always been a fast walker, and I prove to be very efficient at hiking uphill. I can keep up with, or pass many people - until we get within 200 ft of the four 12,000 ft passes. At that altitude I feel lazy, tired, and light-headed. My brain tells my legs to move, but my legs can’t take the signal and turn it into a smooth human movement. I feel like a zombie.

At the top, the course goes left onto a wide dirt road called 2B and it’s a 3.5-mile quick descent down and around the mountain. During this wonderful rush, aided by the law of gravity, it is too much fun to consider that I will have to return, and battle this monstrosity of a hill on this grueling out-and-back course.

Printer Boy Aid Station is a mess (in my mind). I feel good, and I am excited to see my crew. Linda and Gina chatter to me simultaneously, but my brain cannot keep up. Luckily I made a list and I pulled it out to read: 1) Porta-potty, 2) Sunscreen & SPF chapstick, 3) Antibacterial/Body Glide, 4) Change Cap, 5) Other clothing options: shirt, socks, shoes, jacket, 6) Blister control & Ibuprofen, 7) Eat pb&j. I accomplish numbers 1, 2, 3, 5 socks only, and 7. Eating two sandwich squares is like trying to swallow toothpaste. My mouth is dry and I drink a bottle of water to get it all down. I grab my hydration pack, Perpetuem mix, and gel flasks that the girls prepared, and take off into the woods.

Printer Boy to Rock Garden: After leaving Printer Boy there is a great mega-steep, technical, descent that spits you out on California Gulch, the road where crewmembers drive to get to the aid station. By chance Rodney, Linda and Gina are in one of the stopped vehicles allowing runners to cross. They shout at me, snap a few shots, and I disappear up and around another mountain.  I will have to wait until the turnaround to see them again. I look forward to Mile 25, but Greg warned me about miles 16-18. They are going to be killer. Greg wasn’t lying.

The 4.5 miles to the aid station are the worst outbound miles in terms of physical exertion. It is basically a power walk, minus the power, plus the extreme heart rate. I am in good spirits though, meeting and talking to people who are also trudging along. I do well and catch Greg at Rock Garden Aid Station where he pukes his guts out after drinking too much liquid. He is as white as a ghost and I worry about him. However, he is amazing and unstoppable, and we take off together to tackle the second 12,000 ft climb.

Rock Garden to Stumptown: The view during the next 3 miles are absolutely breathtaking as we run around Ball Mountain, and the mile-long climb to the snow covered pass is as tough as it is beautiful. I stop a few times, take some deep breaths, try not to fall over, and will my legs to go. “One foot in front of the other” I tell myself. This shit is no joke. I can barely walk. At the top I try to stand upright to take in what I know can be the most spectacular view of the day, but I think I might die. Lungs are burning. Need to get down.

After the summit, it is time to make the 4-mile twistingly wild and treacherous descent into the valley and into the aid station. About a mile from the aid station, we see Lauren running in the opposite direction. She’s inbound now and looks great. She gives Greg a high-five and saves one for me. We tell each other how much the other ‘rocks’. The halfway point is calling me and I ran hard into Stumptown with the hopes that my crew will embrace me and let me stay in the nest longer. Rodney tells me that I am 25 minutes ahead of my goal time of 12:30, that I can run/walk a 20:00/mile and still make the cut-off back at Printer Boy. I hand over my dying Garmin 405, confident that as long as I kept moving, I will finish my first ultra.

Gina and Linda run into some confusion over Endurolyte tablets, but it all works out. They try to shove all sorts of food into my mouth, but it is less than appetizing. I manage to eat some more terribly dry and disgusting pb&j squares, and some watermelon with salt. Sounds weird, but it provides moisture, tastiness, sustenance, and most importantly doesn’t make me want to dry heave. I use the porta-potty, change my socks, switch out my blue Ragnar shirt for my red “Peace, Love, Run” t-shirt, and trade my visor in for a cap. I ditch my sunglasses and grab a rain jacket for those afternoon storms. I run off to tackle the climb back up Ball Mountain, leaving a few minutes after Greg.

Stumptown to Rock Garden: It rains a bit, but it feels nice. I’m hot. The morning started off perfect at a cool 44F and now I’m in full sun, in the mountains. I have a high sweat rate so I increase my Endurolyte tablets from two to three an hour. Getting back to 12,000 ft is demoralizing, a lot of hardcore walking up super steep inclines in thin air. No longer can I see Greg’s red hat, he’s pulled away and I feel like I’m going backwards. I may have altitude amnesia or maybe I repressed the experience because getting to Rock Garden comes fast.

Rock Garden to Printer Boy: I make good time here on the downhill. I’m alone for most of it and it’s very peaceful. Rodney surprises me from behind the camera and tripod as I come cross California Gulch. I run up to him and stop. I don’t remember if I hugged him, but he tells me it would be a good idea for me to walk. I have about a mile to go before the aid station, and he takes off in the car to meet me on the other side. This hike is a long, terrible agonizing ascent and the only thing keeping me upright and moving forward is knowing that Rodney will be there. The part I dread about the aid station is being force fed by my crew. I feel sick, bloated, nauseous, and want to cry thinking about eating any solids from the aid station buffet or any gooey liquid nutrition. The nutrition plan was a good idea, but impossible to execute.

When I get to Printer Boy, Greg is ready to take off to the next segment. I discover that Lauren was there for a long time, has fallen 5 or so times, needed medical attention for scrapes and cuts, and had a hard time leaving the aid station. Gina tends to me and it’s a pretty smooth pit stop. I pee, sunscreen up, change my shirt and cap, drop my handheld and jacket, and negotiate with Gina about nutrition. I tell her I’ll take three pb&j squares in a Ziplock bag and eat them on the go. I don't know if I am intentionally lying to her, but she lets me go without eating. Everything goes smoothly and uncomplicated except for the fact that I don’t want to leave. I made the cutoff by 1:45, but I know what lies ahead and I’m suffering from major stomach distress. Rodney doesn’t take any pictures here, he pulls me aside and says, “You know you’re going to finish. You are a half-hour ahead of your goal. Don’t kill yourself”. I figure I must look pretty bad. For once in my life I decide to listen to him.

Printer Boy to Black Cloud: This is the lowest point for me physically and mentally, slugging up 3.5 miles towards Iowa Amphitheater. I kick myself thinking about how fun it was to coast down. It is definitely the worst of times getting passed by walkers and watching the distance grow between us. I can no longer see Greg as he’s pulled far away. I soon see him down below after the switchback and he starts running the downhill. I’m in awe. My buddy is a machine. That guy can puke hard and run hard.  I feel the urge to throw myself off the cliff because I don’t think I can make it to the top. I’m nearing the last 12,000 ft peak and again, I’m getting altitudinally (is that a word?) drunk. I also have the strong urge to use the bathroom and there is not a discrete location for miles. We’re on a dirt road winding around a mountain above tree line. I’m out of luck and I try my damnedest not to poop my pants.

Somehow I make it to the top and it’s downhill through the rocks and running water. My feet are burning, as blisters start to form under the balls of both feet. Anyone passing me at this point asks how I’m feeling because I’m obviously hurting. They sympathize, tell me I’m doing the right thing by staying on my feet, and encourage me, confirming that I will finish. I try to run, but the bouncing does no good for my stomach issues. I need to get to Black Cloud so I can use the porta-potty. I need it now.

 

Unexpectedly, Linda is on the trail. She’s cheering me on, but I yell back at her that I am not running at this time. I tell her my ailments. She tells me that Black Cloud is just around the corner. This corner takes forever and a lifetime to come. Meanwhile, I alternate with power walking, running, clenching and keeling over from the waist. Gina joins us now and of course, Rodney is documenting my agony with the camera. I gather up what I can and run about 200 meters straight into the aid station porta-potty. Relief for a while, but as I exit the porta-potty, Gina and Linda are already shoving food in my mouth like a baby bird. I hate every second, but I settle for oranges and watermelon. They give me a huge boost by their extreme excitement, because my next stop will be the finish line. 

Black Cloud to Finish Line: I run about a mile and my stomach is in knots. I could use another porta-potty or bush, but there isn’t either around. I end up walking a good pace with a man named John who suffered injury to his knee while in the Top 10. He was forced to stop and duct tape his knee at 13.5, and faced the decision whether to DNF or continue. We talk about family, education, running and all sorts of other things and it takes my mind off my discomfort. He is amazed that I’m a flatlander moving so strong throughout the day. Last year when he turned 40, he decided to run the toughest races in Colorado. He’s running Pikes Ascent with his wife later this year. I feel lucky to have met him.

In the last mile, I pull away and run. I want to finish strong, and the pain between running and walking is negligible. I run well considering my insides hurt. I run wonky because my feet are shredded. I run with a smile, because I am almost there. I come around a corner and I see the finish line. I hear my name as I cross the line. My time is 12:07:03.

Rodney puts his camera down and comes to hug me. He shows me his iPhone, which has a picture of Taia holding a sign for me back home in Omaha. I cry a few tears but everything is happening so fast, and I can’t take it all in. Someone puts a medal around my neck and gives me a brown box with a bracelet. A little redheaded boy takes the timing chip from around my ankle. Linda, Gina and Lauren embrace me. I get shuttled over to a chair and hounded to eat. I can’t do it. I just sit there.

I see John walking in. Daughters, Chloe, 5 and Anna, 2 in matching jackets, run to greet him and he scoops them up, one in each arm, and carries them across the finish line. I know this is the best day of his life. I cry.

 

Acknowledgments: 

Thank you to my crew. 

• Gina- Thanks for flying in from Phoenix and driving the two hours to Leadville from Denver by yourself. Thanks for "camping" out on the pull-out couch, sleeping with some bugs, and forcing yourself out of your comfort zone for me. You are an invaluable crew member and friend.
• Linda- What can I say? Thanks for taking a week out of your life to accompany me on a 'Girls Trip' full of running, shopping, a bazillion potty breaks, and non-stop, non-nap fun. I know I'm not an easy person to do the 24-7 with, but you're an trained and superb endurance athlete. You kept me going when I was falling apart emotionally. Just remember to put one hand on your hip and cross your legs for pictures.

• Rodney- I know my running and obsessive training for Leadville has been tough on our relationship and most recently our bank account. Thanks for letting me have these experiences and much needed breaks from the everyday life of a being a real housewife of Omaha. Thanks for knowing I'm crazy, addressing your concerns, but loving me just the same.

Thank you to my running buddies.

• Greg- We've really solidified a wonderful friendship throughout this journey. Just think, last September, not even a year ago, I paced you for 6 miles of your first half marathon and lost you on the 6th St Hill. Today, you run mountains in Colorado, and I need you and your red hat to be my rabbit. You are an amazing person and this was such a different experience because we did this together.

• Lauren- Your little idea really changed my life. Thank you. You are better than you think you are...you proved that in Leadville. Whoever said the pretty girlie-girls can't also be fast and tough, haven't met you. What's next?

Special Thanks to:

• All my running friends in Omaha, who supported me, ran with me, and cheered me on every step of the way. You shared your strength with me, and I took that with me to the mountains.
• Wednesday Night Millard West Track Group
• Team Nebraska Brooks (esp. Coach Will, RRM, and TNB athletes) 
• LifeTime Fitness Run Club
• Omaha Running Club friends and community
• My family in Canada who emailed and tried to call (though we did not have service in Leadville). It meant a lot to receive some love and luck from home.
• My in-laws who took a week off to stay with Taia in Omaha so I could run wild and free. Thanks for that special sign and text message that was greatly appreciated after a long, hard day. I hope I can share with Taia all these adventures, so she knows she can do anything she puts her mind to.
• Our extended family and friends, who really don't get what I'm doing, but respect my craziness and ask about my adventures. Let's go for a run!
• The running moms who understand that you can balance running, work, and motherhood. This includes the early morning running moms, the Mighty TWs, R42 moms, and all cybermoms I haven't met in person, but hope to meet up for a run in the future.
• Facebook friends, Daily Mile people, and experienced ultrarunners who reached out to me, encouraged me, and inspired me to run the best race I could run.
• Darth Taitor a.k.a. Taia Green, who was very instrumental in developing my mental toughness.
• Denny & Linda Gray for all the hours of free babysitting and minimal dirty looks as I headed out the door with my running shoes.
• Anyone I shared a run with in the past five months and even the last five years. 

Post Race Thoughts:

I thought that I'd find myself out in the mountains and that the experience of running the Silver Rush 50 would change my life. In all actuality, the journey was what was important. My transformation, growth and inner strength built each day as I ran in Omaha, and seeing the beauty from 12,000 ft in Leadville  was the celebration of just a short segment of my life. I'm not sure what's next for me, but completing the training and finishing my first ultramarathon is just the beginning.

Sometimes we need to push ourselves in order to find our limits, so we can realize that we really can endure anything. Life is about feeling something. There can be no success without failure, no pleasure without pain. After you lose the fear inside, you know you can push yourself to the extreme. You know nothing can break you. You know that no matter what your challenge is, you will never give up.

My life isn't all about running, but everything I've learned through running in the past few years has changed my life for the better. 

__________________________________________________________________  

 The Boring Details:

400 people registered, 311 started, 279 finished (32 DNFs & 89 DNS)

Jody Green: Overall 214/279; Gender 55/75;Division 23/31

Time: 12:07:03

Pace 14:32

Splits:

0-13.5 miles Printer Boy 3:04 (13:39/mile pace)

13.5-25 miles Stumptown 2:16 (11:51/mile pace)

25-34.5 miles Printer Boy 2:42 (14:08/mile pace)

34.5 to finish 4:03:51 (18:03/mile pace)

Aid Station	Expected Time	Actual Time	Difference
Black Cloud	7:45 AM	7:30 AM	15 ahead
Printer Boy	9:30 AM	9:03 AM	27 ahead
Rock Garden	10:30 AM	10:05 AM	25 ahead
Stumptown	12:15 PM	11:40 AM	25 ahead
Rock Garden	1:30 PM	1:11 PM	19 ahead
Printer Boy	2:45 PM	2:30 PM	30 ahead
Black Cloud	4:00 PM	4:18 PM	18 ahead
Finish	6:30 PM	6:07 PM	23 ahead