Moving
Toward the Leadville 100 Finish Line
Editor's
note: On August 19-20, 2000, Todd Salzer attempted his
first 100 mile race--the Leadville Trail 100. The following
story is his first person account of what he experienced.
COMPLETE
2000 LT100 RESULTS
******************
Two
years ago, my friend Paul South ran this race and asked me
to help him out. After
watching it, I was hooked.
Last year I helped two other friends and decided I
was going to try my hand at this "ultra-running"
thing.
Last
October, I ran a 50 mile race and finished with a smile, even
after running for 11 hours.
"I can do Leadville," I thought. Along
came January 1, and I sent in my entry form and $175--yes,
you have to pay for the privilege.
I began my training with only one goal--finishing LT100.
After
1300 miles of running, including a marathon which I won, a
50 kilometer race, and two 50 mile races, I was ready and
waiting. Finally, August arrived, and my training was
complete. I began
tapering three weeks before the race. The last week
before the race I was done running, just resting and waiting.
I went up to Leadville (altitude: 10,200 feet) on Tuesday
to get acclimated to the elevation. I spent two days camping, feeding, and hydrating at 11,500
feet with my dog Vegas and friend Toby.
On
Thursday we were able to check into a house I had rented with
Paul, my friend from two years ago who was back to run the
race again. Thursday
night we went to a spaghetti dinner where we saw many other
runners and met up with Stuart, Paul's crew chief.
Friday was dedicated to last minute preparations such
as cooking potatoes, filling water bottles, and going over
details with my crew.
Friday
also brought friends Amit, Matt & Regina, Nate & Brandy,
my wife Carly, and my father-in-law Nick to help out.
Also, another member of Paul's team, his work colleague
Darren, and Paul's girlfriend, Steph came to help.
Thus, it was quite a crowd in the house, but we managed
to get everyone down by 10:00 in order to try to get a few
hours of sleep.
Unfortunately,
it was not meant to be.
After tossing and turning for several hours, I got
up at 2:15 and cooked some breakfast and started getting ready.
We all headed for the start at 3:15, getting into Leadville
at 3:40, twenty minutes to the start. We were greeted
with disco music and a healthy rain.
It's not as if running 100 miles isn't difficult enough,
might as well add some weather into the equation.
So
after taking a few pictures and getting some last minute good
wishes, the shotgun went off exactly at 4:00AM and the 407
runners took off into the night. The first few miles I just
tried to stay within myself; no need to burn up the beginning.
Other than the rain, it was quite nice.
I found a comfortable pace and got involved in a conversation
with several other runners as we made our way through the
dark along Turquoise Lake.
At Tabor Boat Ramp, mile 7.5, I met several of my crew.
I dropped my jacket, as the rain had stopped, and I
continued on toward May Queen (MQ), mile 13.5.
Approaching
MQ Aid Station (AS), I was able to turn off my flashlight
and pick up the pace a little.
I was still moving comfortably, running all the flats
and downhills, walking the uphills.
I got to the AS at 6:15, exactly on my prerace prediction.
I grabbed some potatoes and Saltines, filled up my
bottles, and exited the tent, meeting Toby and Matt a half
mile up the road. There
I grabbed my sunglasses, a hat, a short sleeve shirt, and
a turkey and cheese bagel; and I
moved on up the Colorado Trail.
For
two miles, the trail rolls, gradually gaining altitude.
We popped out on Hagerman Pass Road, and then Sugarloaf
Pass Road. Sugarloaf
Pass is just over 11000 feet.
Both roads are gradual enough that they are runable. I was not feeling all that good at this point, and didn't want
to push too hard with 80 miles still to race, so I bid my
time and enjoyed the sunrise, alternating walking with brief
running spurts, talking with several other racers on a similar
schedule.
From
the summit it is a fast few miles down a rutted jeep road,
followed by one mile of pavement to the Fish Hatchery AS,
mile 23.5. Almost a quarter done.
Here it started to rain a little, so I grabbed my jacket
and continued onward.
I did not need to restock any food, as I still was
carrying the bagel. I had tried several times to eat it, but I couldn't seem to
get much down. This
was beginning to concern me, as I was counting on eating several
of these bagels during the race.
This also began to concern Matt and Toby, as they knew
I was not eating nearly as much as I should.
From
Fish Hatchery to Halfmoon AS, it is seven miles.
The first three miles are on paved roads, then four
miles on a dirt road.
No crew members are allowed up the dirt road, so I
met Toby and Matt again, changed out of my tights into shorts,
dropped my jacket as it had once again stopped raining (the
sun shone through revealing a fabulous rainbow!), and bid
the crew farewell until Twin Lakes, mile 39.5.
Again
I bid my time, alternating running and walking up the dirt
road to Halfmoon at mile 30.5.
Here I snarfed a few more potatoes, filled up with
fluids, and grabbed some food for the trail, hoping I would
start eating better.
From this point it is another mile on the dirt road
until the course rejoins the Colorado Trail for the next eight
miles. This is
my favorite section; mostly runable, scenic vistas, just a
beautiful, heavily treed section of trail.
I made pretty good time on this section, and made it
into Twin Lakes just after noon--eight hours into the race.
I was only ten minutes off schedule, still pretty good
for how lousy I had been feeling to this point.
At
the AS, I grabbed some more potatoes, drank a Coke, ate a
few pieces of candy, and walked the road to the crew area.
There was a big crowd waiting for me here.
Toby and Matt were joined by Carly, Regina, Toby's
mom Marty and her friend Tom, and our dog Vegas.
Tom and Marty brought an RV for the crew to relax in,
as they would have to wait here for the next six to seven
hours. I enjoyed
their company for a few minutes, rolled some lactic acid out
of my quads, ate a bunch of Fig Newtons, and took some more
food out on the trail.
The
next twenty miles are the most difficult of the course.
A mile flat, then a climb of 3400 feet, from 9200'
to 12,600', in four miles.
Then a drop to 10,000', then two more miles of gentle
climb to the turnaround at mile 50.
So
I headed out across the flat, and there was a river crossing
after about 3/4 mile.
The water was low this year, below knee level.
In past years it had been over waist deep.
I waded across, rubbing some of the accumulated grime
off my legs, and my friends Amit, Nate, and Brandy were waiting
there with a change of shoes and socks for me.
Fantastic! It
wouldn't be much fun going over the pass with wet shoes, and
the time it takes to change them will be more than worth it. After bidding my amigos thanks, I headed up the pass.
I latched
onto a guy who passed me at a good clip, hoping to keep his
pace. Soon he
slowed, so I continued on my own.
I am passing people fairly regularly at this point,
and am feeling better than I have all day.
All that food I ate must be helping me.
Either that, or it is my 40-mile wind.
In the three 50 mile races I ran, the 40-50 mile area
was my strong point.
The
course keeps climbing.
A lot of people seemed to be laboring, the lack of
oxygen having a negative effect on performance.
I seemed to be getting stronger the higher the trail
climbs. Then
my friend Paul passed me going the other way.
He is in first place, ten minutes up on the second
place runner. I
am at mile 45? So he is already ten miles ahead of me.
Amazing.
At
treeline, about 12,000 feet, there is an aid station.
These hardy souls would stay up here tonight, all their
gear and supplies for the AS brought in on the backs of a
pack of 40 llamas. Quite
a sight to behold. I
grabbed some mashed potatoes and filled my water bottles,
and headed up the last little climb to Hope Pass.
From
this point it is a STEEP drop down to the Winfield Road--very
difficult running, hard to control your speed.
At mile 47, my legs weren't listening to my brain,
sometimes picking their own course, but I made it down without
falling. I dropped
my pack with Carly and Regina, keeping a single water bottle,
and headed up the two miles of dirt road to Winfield, mile
50, and my pacer, Matt.
I had planned on walking this stretch, as it can be
deceptively steep, but I felt really good so I kept a good
running pace. Again,
I passed several runners.
Finally
I saw the ghost town of Winfield and entered the AS.
Halfway home.
It was 3:20PM, having taken more than eleven hours
to get here. I
was shooting for 10:45-11 hours, so I was still behind schedule.
Here was the first medical check.
I weighed 161, down 3 pounds.
A little worrisome; I haven't been drinking enough,
and with the afternoon heat I had been sweating a lot.
Matt vowed to keep me drinking and eating all the way over
Hope. If I dropped
to 159 at Twin Lakes, I would have to remain in the AS until
I could get my weight back up.
I didn't want to go there.
We
headed out and down the road to our wives.
We covered this section faster than we did in training
five weeks before, and we were fresh then.
I am feeling great, and am happy to have my friend
out running with me.
We met Carly and Regina at the trail where we started
heading up. I downed a full water bottle and stocked up with several more.
Leadville allows "muling," whereby a pacer
is allowed to carry all the gear for the runner.
Most 100 mile races allow pacers, but the runner has
to carry all their own gear.
At this point I am thankful for my mule. With just a water bottle to carry I felt light and fast.
Immediately,
we started passing runners.
At times I felt like stopping to catch my breath, but
Matt advised me to keep moving.
We
couldn't go too fast, as the trail is incredibly steep, especially
when we get above timberline.
Also, we were constantly passing runners still on the
way to Winfield. At
this point I could see the trail switchback all the way to
the top. It seems
like we would never get there.
Soon enough, we reached the top.
Quite a vista!
We stopped to take a picture and enjoy the view for
a few seconds, and then began the drop.
After
a half mile, we passed through the Hopeless AS.
As Matt forced me to drink three bottles on the way
up, we reloaded, ate a little, and continued on our way. There were still a few runners struggling up, on the way out
to Winfield, well beyond the cutoff of fourteen hours needed
to continue. And
yet they still struggled on.
We
cruised down the mountain, simply trying not to hurt my quads
too much as there was still a long way to go.
Soon we emerged from the trees and could see Twin Lakes
across the flats. We
crossed the river and slogged the final 3/4 mile to the parking
lot with wet shoes and high spirits.
We made up some time, 14:36 has elapsed.
I was shooting for 14:15.
At
this point, mile 60, Matt relinquished his babysitting duties
to Toby. We reloaded,
eating only a little since I was losing my appetite again,
and moved through the AS and onto the trail.
We had flashlights with us, it would be dark soon.
Sure enough, after hiking uphill for a mile or so,
we passed a woman hanging glowsticks from trees to mark the
trail. The trail
finally levels out, allowing us to run at a decent clip in
parts. I managed
to eat a little bit but most everything Toby handed me looked
completely unappetizing.
We didn't pass many runners, but didn't get passed
either. One runner we did pass was getting hypothermic
and asked us to send help at the next aid station.
It got darker, but we fought off using the lights until
absolutely necessary.
We used them for the final two miles to the Halfmoon
AS, mile 69.5.
I learned
that Paul had to drop out there while still in first place.
I guess he hurt his knee and couldn't go on. Too bad,
as he was on a course record pace.
I had been living on his glory and was really upset
to hear this news. Toby
and I stayed in the AS for maybe ten minutes, eating soup
and drinking coffee, and we moved on down the road to meet
the crew two miles farther along. There were some hearty souls
out on the road cheering the sporadic runner along through
the dark, most of them seemed to be fairly inebriated at this
point. Still,
they offered much needed encouragement.
I made
it to Tree Line, where the crew was assembled for our arrival.
To shock the unfamiliar among them, I had some chafing
issues which needed attention.
A little baby powder and a change of undergarments
did the trick. More
liquids got down, but hydration was no longer an issue.
Instead, my spirits had sunk with the arrival of the
darkness. And
the next few miles of pavement were my least favorite of the
course. I attempted
to eat, knowing full well that my attitude was directly related
to my low calorie intake. But my stomach was not obliging to my mind's intentions.
So
with the entire crew rooting me on, Matt (who has taken over
pacing duties from Toby) and I slowly took to the road.
After running through a half mile of cars along the road (the
other crews), we made it to the pavement.
Matt had good intentions, knowing it was in my best
interest to eat, but my attitude was as sour as my stomach.
This
section is eternal; no trees, no lights, nothing to break
up the monotony but an occasional car.
Off in the distance we could see the lights of the
Fish Hatchery Aid Station, but they didn't seem to come any
closer. Finally
I managed to eat a little, and we run for a little bit.
I would pick a power line pole and run to it, then
walk to the next, then run...
After an eternity, we made it to the AS.
Mile 76.5. Matt
did a hell of a job on this section keeping me focused, especially
after a long day for him.
Thanks, Matt.
At
this point, I ate a little more ramen soup and some potatoes,
and drank a Coke and some coffee.
I knew, finally, that 25 hours was out of the question. With 23.5 miles to go, and a tough climb to come, my goals
were simply to finish and to keep from hurting myself.
I waddled out of the AS and greeted my crew in the
parking lot. It had been a long day for them, but to their credit the enthusiasm
had not waned. They
offered a great pick-me-up, and all wanted to contribute their
part. The best
was a sip of a Bud Light from Nate.
"I can't wait until the finish!"
I raised
my weary body out of its stupor, climbed out of the throne
I rested in (at this point any chair feels regal), and bounded
off with my wife by my side.
I had been looking forward to her pacing duties all
day. It seemed
an eternity since the last we spoke for any duration and I
had so many stories to tell her.
The course of an ultra-run is full of anecdotes.
After
a little pavement, the true fun began:
the climb up Sugarloaf Pass. Carly later told me that
we were hiking at a good clip, but it did not feel that way
to me. It seemed
like every few minutes another racer passed us.
When I saw a light behind us I tried to pick up the
pace, but they still gained ground, until finally I yielded
to the inevitable and their lights were off in the distance
ahead.
Carly
did a masterful job of making me drink and eat.
She constantly offered me food, most of which I refused.
She continuously told me to drink.
Every time she said "drink", I told her that
I just did. Soon
she realized this ploy and told me to drink some more, to
which I yielded. I
thought that I had just drunk, but it could've been ten minutes
before. Time was now completely arbitrary, just another
part of a world which was losing meaning.
All I knew was that I didn't want to eat, drinking
was OK, that I had to keep moving forward, and that my wife
is the best.
We
soon saw lights off in the distance.
I heard music, too.
It was a bandit aid station put on by an Outward Bound
class. I actually
knew two people up there. My buddy Jay Pozner, 2nd place
in 1999, attended to my needs.
I ate some Ramen and drank some Gatorade while he worked
on my right big toe.
The nail had fallen off.
He bandaged it up and I took a couple of Advil for
the pain. Jay
insisted I take more food, and he headed down the trail with
Carly and me to give us some much needed company.
After
a half mile, Jay bid us good luck and once again we were alone,
except for the occasional runner passing us. Occasionally
we tried to run, but inevitably returned to a walk.
At times I closed my eyes only to open them, not knowing
if we walked one step or a hundred.
I knew the term sleep walking.
After
another hour or so (it was now well after midnight), we gained
the Colorado Trail.
It was only a mile or two until May Queen, then 13.5
miles to the finish. My spirits were lifted for a minute until the difficulty of
this trail set in. Carly
did a great job of keeping the trail lit for me.
I amazed myself by not falling at all.
Soon Toby and my father-in-law Nick greeted us.
The four of us crawled to the AS.
What
a joy to be there! It
was warm and well-lit, with many volunteers at my service.
If only this were the finish line.
I din't want to leave, knowing the dark awaited.
I warmed with some Ramen, then some potato soup before
the cold reality set in:
it was time to move.
I immediately caught a chill as we left the warm environment.
I put on a jacket. Nick
was amazingly enthusiastic, given that is was 2:58 AM.
I assured him that my running miles were behind me
and apologized in advance for the struggle ahead.
He had none of it, and constantly assured me of how
well I was doing. If
I were alone, I would probably be sleeping on a rock.
Runners
appeared sporadically, but mostly it was just Nick and me. Recognizable landmarks were few to come by; and when they did
I realized how slow we traveled.
And yet we were still moving forward.
We spent some time with a fellow runner and his pacer,
but they soon left us behind.
Eventually
we reached Tabor Boat Ramp;
I needed some caffeine.
Some of the crew joined us; the rest were fast asleep.
I could only wish for sleep. I sat in my throne again. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh
were shoved my way.
One moment I had a Coke in my hand, the next I was
asleep with the Coke across my lap.
Literally, in the blink of an eye.
My throne disappeared and Nick and I were alone on
the trail again.
At
this point, route finding was difficult, trying to see the
next glow light in the distance.
Root finding is easy, as my feet rarely got
more than an inch off the ground.
The trail went on, and on, and on.
Nick was my crutch. Occasionally, I would stop after being in a good rhythm for
a few minutes. I
am unsure why, I would just lose my focus, count to three,
and lean forward to gain momentum.
This was the most difficult thing I had ever done.
We
met the crew once again.
Most were sleeping.
It was close to 6:00 AM--another 3.5 miles to slog.
They drove to the finish; unfortunately it would take
us a little longer.
The
day was breaking; no need for the flashlights anymore.
Nick pushed me to keep moving. I kept moving.
There was no other choice, and I knew nothing else. I was in constant pain.
I tried to run, made it fifty yards, and had to walk.
He understood.
Soon
we gained elevation, and could see a good distance behind
us. Several runners were gaining.
After having no goals for hours, I wanted to keep these
runners at bay. We
passed two runners, the first ones I had passed in hours.
Two runners passed us, and then we crested the final
hill. The finish line was visible, and the glory.
We
saw several runners ahead of us, all separated by one hundred
yards or so, all running.
I was determined to run this in, so we ran.
It was not easy, but we wouldn't be passed in the final
bit. The finish
line beckoned. The sun crested the mountains.
I crossed the line amidst a herd of Clydesdales, or
so it seemed to me.
My time was 27:03:30 and it was after 7:00 AM.
I would not be running tomorrow.
I was
greeted with wild applause from my loyal crew.
Amit gave me champagne.
I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Toby,
Carly, Amit, Nick, Marty, Tom, Regina, Matt, Nathan, Brandy,
Stuart, Darren, and my dog Vegas were all there to greet me.
Paul and Steph were still out on the course looking
for me. I wanted
the moment to last forever.
******************
Thanks
again to all those who helped me make this possible.
You know who you are.
I couldn't have done this without your help.
Special thanks to my wife, Carly, who did not question
my desire, nor my mind, and supported me through many miles
and many hours of training. And to my parents, who because of a prior commitment, were
unable to be apart of the "fun" that is the LT100. You were both definitely a part of this in my heart, every
step of the way.
Still
Running,
Todd
Salzer
