LT100 Start to May Queen -- A Runaway American Dream

After the 4 AM start, Tim and I ran together out of town through the darkness as part of the long conga line of bouncing headlamps.  The energy from everyone around us was one of anticipation and adventure.

Tim just a few minutes into the race

Within a few minutes, we came upon a scene that I had been eagerly anticipating for almost a year.  I had heard stories about this one house on the road out of town that throws a raucous front lawn party every year to send the runners off with the proper motivation, and this year was no different.  We came upon this group of crazies partying in front of their house, dancing in their bathrobes and other assorted sleepwear.  We could hear their music blasting well before we could see them -- but the thing is they play only one song, and they play it over and over for every runner who passes by.  And it happens to be one of my favorite songs, from one of my favorite albums, by one of my favorite artists of all time -- The Boss' Born to Run.


I trust you'll excuse a guy who grew up in Jersey in the '70s and '80s for getting a little emotional when he heard that particular song in the middle of the Rocky Mountains as he himself was "stepping out over the line."  That moment marked one of my private highlights of this entire past year, and I won't soon forget it.

Soon after the pavement turned to dirt road, Chris Sullivan (my friend/hotel-mate from the Leadville Training Camp) and Philip (buddy from the Denver Taco Run) caught up with Tim and me and ran with us for a while.  A couple miles later, Tim stopped for a quick nature break, telling me he’d catch up in a few.  He never did, and other than crossing paths near the halfway turnaround point at Winfield, I didn’t see him again for the next 28 hours.

I slowed down a bit to wait for him, but he never caught up.  I was convinced that he ditched me intentionally.  I thought he could tell that, due to my rookie eagerness, I was champing at the bit to let out the reins out just a little, and it was hard for me to keep the pace so slow for that first 13.5-mile section into May Queen Aid Station.  We both knew that the wise runners resist the temptation to go out too fast too early, or they pay the heavy price later in the race, but Tim was much better at obeying that rule.  I figured he ditched me because he didn't want to get lured into a risky faster initial pace and he didn't want to keep telling me to slow down -- it was his polite way of saying "Go for it, you idiot."


It turns out, luckily, there is no "going for it" on the way into May Queen, and ultimately, that's probably a good thing for someone like me.  The trail around Turquoise Lake is a winding, rolling single track that is beautiful but too narrow to allow much passing at all.  So, I had no choice but to settle into my spot in the conga line and plod around the lake at whatever pace the herd was running.  Because I started near the very back of the pack, I found myself stuck behind hundreds of runners who all seemed to be comfortable at a pace slightly slower than I had planned.  


I told myself that being stuck in that line going so slowly was a gift -- it guaranteed that I wouldn't waste energy or burn out from an overly aggressive start.  With that thought I was mostly able to relax and just enjoy the cool morning, but as the pack's pace slowed even further, I got a little antsy as I felt myself falling farther behind my planned May Queen arrival time.  So, I started passing people where the trail allowed as long as it didn't cost too much energy to do so.  One guy, apparently annoyed by my passing him on the narrow trail, reminded me that I still had 90 miles of open trail to pass whoever I wanted.  I knew he was technically correct, but I didn't see it that way.  I didn't want to get too far behind my race plan and find myself stressed out from playing catch-up all day.  So, I mentally dismissed him and continued working my way forward where I could.


I'm glad I did because I ended up being only five or six minutes behind schedule at May Queen (6:27 AM arrival), and while I knew that was no big deal, it was more annoying than I would have liked.  I felt like I could have been there 10 or even 15 minutes earlier with almost no extra exertion.  Next time (if there is a next time) I will start a bit closer to the middle of the pack so as to be surrounded by folks running closer to my pace on the way to May Queen.


My pit stop at May Queen was quick, maybe one or two minutes tops.  I drank about 10 oz of Clip energy drink, dropped by headlamp, kept my cool weather gear (hat, gloves, sleeves and buff) because I was still chilly and forgot my sunglasses.  Molly was there crewing that aid station by herself, and she was easy to find because she was waving a huge green pool noodle over her head.  That was our system to help me find her, and it worked great every time.  We had whistles too, but the noise of the aid stations made them less than effective.


For those who care about such details (maybe you'll be running this race yourself next year!), here's the pacing/timing chart I created and carried along for the race.  I wasn't sure how it would work, but now that I've tried it, I found it invaluable for keeping my head in the game.  I would definitely use it again (with maybe a couple small changes).

Pacing/Timing Chart

Chart folds up to about one inch square

You can see this chart contains:  the segment (Start - May Queen); the segment distance (13.5 miles), the segment cut-off elapsed time (3:15) (unnecessary info, I think); total cut-off clock time (7:15 AM); then it has three different timing options (fast, planned and slow, corresponding to 25, 28 and 30 hour finish times, respectively) each with the elapsed segment time (2:15...), the arrival time (06:15...) and the required pace (10...).   The middle option is in a larger font because that represents my goal time for that segment.

The view climbing out of May Queen

After the quick stop at May Queen, I was back out on the trail to start the climb up Sugar Loaf.  At this point, with the sun rising, I was feeling fantastic, like the 13 miles I had just completed was barely a warmup, and I was just now settling into my groove.  As I started that climb up the mountain, the first real climb of the day, I felt absolutely alive with a curious swirl of emotions -- physically strong and spiritually lighthearted.  I thought "THIS is what I've trained for."


TO BE CONTINUED...