Leadville Training Camp Days One and Two

I'm back in Denver after two days up in Leadville at the LT100 training camp.  I dropped Tim off at the airport early Monday morning, so he's on his way back home to Michigan for only about 24 hours with his family before he has to get back to work (pilot for American).

The camp was fantastic.  The mountains were magnificent, the running was challenging and rewarding and the people were fun, friendly and very motivating.  In fact, I had such a great time up there over the last two days that I'm considering driving back up tonight for the final run of the camp -- a four-hour night run from Twin Lakes inbound to I-don't-know-where.  I was planning on skipping this run because I couldn't stay up in Leadville all day Monday, but then somebody put the idea in my head that I could just drive back up after work today, and now that the thought's in my head, I can't get it out. We'll see how I feel this afternoon.

Saturday was a great day as we ran from May Queen to Twin Lakes, about 26 miles with about 3,200' gain and 3,900' loss.  It took just under six hours.  I ran with Tim and Chris Sullivan most of the day.  Chris is a buddy of mine from Denver who needed a place to stay during the camp, so he crashed on the floor in the tiny hotel room with me and Tim. 

Chris Sullivan in the thin air

I think it's fair to say, after spending two days in very tight quarters with me and Tim, Chris will never ask to share a room with us again.  I won't get into any of the details as to why I think this, but I will say that my brother has what some might politely call an irreverent sense of humor, and Chris saw things that, despite his growing up in Jersey, will leave scars on his retinas for years to come. 

Still, we had a great time on the trail on Saturday, and I learned a bit about what that section of the course is like.  For example, there's a several mile flat stretch of road (pavement then dirt) coming out of the Fish Hatchery that I had heard people complain about in the past.  I remember doubting these complaints and thinking that I would probably enjoy a nice flat stretch of road after all the ups and downs on the course.  I figured it would be a good place to relax and maybe even make up some time, if needed.  I was wrong.  There's nothing relaxing or fun about that road.  It's flat, straight and, I don't know, somehow annoying.  My plan for that stretch of road during the race will be to put on some music, go to a happy place and just wait for it to be over -- kind of like ________ (you can insert your own joke here).  

I also got to experience the run down Power Line, which was a bit steeper and a bit more of a sustained downhill than I expected.  The lesson for me is to control that particular descent.  I could easily bomb down that hill -- it's got a decent fun-factor to it -- but I would pay a heavy price for it in terms of my quads and feet later on in the race.

Tim at the bottom of Power Line

 Same goes for the descent into Twin Lakes, which was beautiful, by the way:



Twin Lakes



After the run, we had an hour or so to kill before the spaghetti dinner the camp was catering.  Tim, Chris and I were so hungry that we couldn't wait that long, so we went out for a pre-dinner dinner at the Grill -- two enchiladas, beans, rice and Fat Tire to tide me over for an hour til the real dinner.

Between that pre-dinner and the spaghetti dinner, I lost $20 to Chris in a bet.  Earlier in the day, I had learned that there's a tradition at the Silver Rush 50 (a 50-mile race in July in Leadville) that the first man and woman to make it up the short, steep hill at the very start of the race each wins a coveted silver dollar.  I'm planning on running that race as a long training run to prepare for the LT100 because many sections of the run climb above 12,000'.  So when I heard about this silver dollar thing, I started thinking maybe I should go for it (since, as Tim reminded me, it's about the only thing I conceivably could ever win during a race like that).  So, to check out this hill more closely, the three of us drove over to it so I could climb up and see what it was like. 

Tim and Chris stood at the bottom of the hill while I, with my belly full of green chili and beer, scrambled up this very steep hill, which I later learned is used as a ski training slope for what must be incredibly brave kids.  I got half way up and I started to feel my heart thumping in my ears; three quarters up and I could tell the green chili was considering staging a revolt; nearing the top, I felt my heart's palpitations in my eyeballs, and my lungs burned as I imagined my alveoli bursting like bubble wrap.

I stood on the top of the hill, hands on knees, gasping for air for a few minutes then stumbled back down to Tim and Chris' jeers and taunts.  I told them I would rather re-run the 26 miles we had just finished than hike up that friggin' hill again.  Their mocking continued, so to shut them up, I told them I'd give either of them $20 if they could run up the hill without stopping.  Chris leaned his head back to look up the slope and asked, "Does it count if I puke?"  "Sure, it'll still count as long as you don't stop running," I answered.  So, without another thought, Chris took off up the hill.  I watched in awe (don't tell him) as he motored up that hill with barely an effort -- only a slight falter or two on some loose rocks near the top, which unfortunately didn't cause him to stop running.  He reached the top breathing casually, struck an Arnold-pose, then scrambled back down to collect his $20. 

For the next day and a half, about every two to three minutes, Chris found a way to casually mention, to whoever would listen, his newfound wealth, his hill climbing prowess, and my corresponding wimpiness.

Day Two of camp, Sunday, was one of those days I won't soon forget.  Tim, Chris and I, though we didn't run together, did repeats up the Winfield side of Hope Pass, which represents to many people, one of the most heart-breaking sections of the LT100 course -- it's about 2.5 miles with about 2,700' of gain topping out at 12,600'.  It definitely loomed large in my psyche as one of, perhaps the, main hurdle on the course.  Recall that it was on this section last year that my brother, while I was pacing him, collapsed on the side of the trail and announced he was "done."  

Well, Tim didn't collapse yesterday.  Not even close.  In fact, he ran up and down that mountain twice without stopping.  He was doing so well that -- to use his words -- he was able to give out his excess chi to other runners who were struggling up and down the mountain.  If you don't understand what that means, ask Tim.

Me on Hope Pass

Chris did great on the mountain too.  He summited twice, and we ran into each other at the top on our second trip up.  We hung out at the top for a few minutes with race founder Ken Chlouber, who had hiked up to the pass to paternalistically tell each runner individually how proud he was of him/her.  Frankly, it was nice to hear.

To me, the best part of the camp was doing those repeats because it took a good bite out of the mythical aura of that mountain.  I'll probably run it again soon, and when the snow clears some more, I'll include the Twin Lakes side too.

By the way, that fleeting concern I had when we first got to Leadville on Friday ("who am I kidding, etc...") is under control.  It'll probably try to pop into my head a few more times, but I'll be more ready for it.  After this weekend, I feel much better about running my own race and more confident in my training so far.  Though, with less than eight weeks to go, I have a lot left to do.  

Leadville Training Camp

Tim and I are up in Leadville sharing a tiny room at the Delaware Hotel.  We arrived late this afternoon after a beautiful drive up from Denver.  We checked in with the Training Camp folks, checked into the hotel and then checked on the two houses I rented over the internet for our respective crews to use during the race in August.  It turns out renting a house sight unseen can be a hit or miss proposition.  In this case it was both:  the house I rented for Tim and his crew is a "hit" -- big, spacious and clean.  The house I rented for me and my crew is a solid "miss" -- small, dark and sticky.  The only good part was the pungent odor coming from the kitchen region; it stung my eyes and burned my nose so as to distract me from the small, dark stickiness of the house.  But, I'm sure it'll work out just fine because we won't be spending all that much time in the house during the race weekend anyway.

After we checked out the houses and we had a hearty meal, we took a walk down 6th Street, which happens to be the first and last mile of the LT100.  It's just a neighborhood street running out of town, but because the race starts and ends there, that stretch of road has seen some powerful and dramatic moments.  We both felt it as we walked down the hill out of town where in the distance we could see later sections of the race course:  Turquoise Lake, Sugar Loaf, the Power Line and the Fish Hatchery. We felt that energy even more so after we turned around and walked a mile back up towards where the finish line will be in August.

Setting sun casting a shadow over 6th Street

 I was chatting away (when I could catch my breath), and Tim asked me to be quiet so he could enjoy the moment and the view of the approaching finish line in silence "... so I can remember this view in case I never see it again."  He's not fooling me -- I don't think for a minute that he has any doubt that he'll be seeing that finish line again on August 21.

I, on the other hand, felt my confidence dip a little when we got to Leadville.  When we got to town and checked in with the Training Camp staff, there were many other runners out and about in the area -- serious looking ultra runners.  I couldn't help but notice how damn fit and athletic they all seemed.  I also couldn't help but notice how I was out of breath just walking up the steps at the hotel, so I didn't feel particularly fit or athletic.  I felt a twinge of that what-have-I-gotten-myself-into feeling mixed with that who-am-I-kidding feeling.  It was fleeting, but it shook me a little, even though I should know better.  I'm sure I'll feel better after our run tomorrow morning.

I shared this thought with Tim, and I expected him to say, "Of course you feel inadequate -- you ARE way out of your league."  Instead, he told me he's felt that way a time or two in the past, and I shouldn't worry about the feeling; I should embrace it and use it to train harder.  Ultimately, he said, my race is my own, and the only real competition will occur inside my own head.  It's just the runner and the trail and that's it.  Like Yoda he can be sometimes.