Five minutes before the start, I said my goodbyes and made my way to the starting line.
The rain had stopped for now, but we could see flashes of lightning in the surrounding mountains. I fully expected to be in it within the next few hours. The first 7 miles to Tabor Boat Ramp (where I would see Jen for the first time) was slightly downhill most of the way and mostly on pavement or smooth dirt/gravel roads with a touch of lakeside singletrack in the last 1-2 miles. I knew it would be smooth sailing and faster than the rest of the course. It would be easy to make up some early time here while still taking it easy.
All systems go. A couple deep breaths. A countdown from 10. A shotgun blast. And we were off!
Start to Mayqueen Aid Station: 0 - 13.5 miles
The start was easy, smooth, and fast. First 7 miles in 1:05. Next 6.5miles in 0:56. My earliest expected time coming into this aid station was 2 hours. Any faster and I needed to SLOW DOWN SUSAN! I walked into the aid station tent at 2:01, checked in, checked out, and saw Mike and Jen waiting for me on the other side. "You're on the fast side of things, man, think about slowing down", noted Mike as I exchanged two bottles and pick up my new selection of gels and Shot Blocks. "I know, it's time to start walking." I knew what was coming; the 1,500 ft climb up Sugarloaf Pass topping out at over 11,000 ft. Time to start walking.
Mayqueen to Fish Hatchery Aid Station: 13.5 - 23.5 miles
I went into powerwalk mode. Everyone else was running. Running up the paved road. Running up the singletrack trail. Running up the extremely rocky, chunky, blocky climb up the trail. 'Are these guys gonna be running like this the whole day?!' It just didn't seem right. I didn't plan on running anything at the beginning that I wouldn't plan on running at the end. Gotta go slow to go fast. I let em go.
A couple miles later and we hit the fire-road that would take us up the second half of the climb. I could see a long string of runners ahead of me and could see many coming up behind me. The thunder was closer here. It was getting colder. I put my Golite windshirt on in preparation and five minutes later it was raining. Five minutes after than and it was sleeting. Five minutes after that and we were nearing the top and the ground was white and it was a rain/sleet/snow mix. I could feel the altitude, but i guessed the guy next to me from Kansas could feel it even more. He seemed to be ok at this point as we briefly chatted our way along the road at 11,300 ft.
Soon, we were heading down a treacherous, steep, rutted, loose, rocky two-track powerline road. Gotta go easy on the knees. Gotta make em last. It got warmer and stopped raining so hard so I took off my jacket towards the bottom and focused on keeping my effort nice and easy. Upon reaching the paved road, I knew it was a mile and a half to the Fish Hatchery. I'd been out for 3:50. My fastest expected time to this aid station at 23.5 miles was 3:45. I cruised in at 4:00. Perfect. "Nice job slowing down, babe", remarked Jen as I sat down in the chair she had prepared for me. I downed a 12oz Gatorade, grabbed another slice of pizza, some orange slices, three bottles this time, and prepared to set off for the short 4 mile jaunt along the exposed, flat, paved and gravel roads to our next meeting point, the Treeline.
Fish Hatchery to Twin Lakes Aid Station: 23.5 - 39.5 miles
I had been going back and forth with the same group of guys for the past few miles and surprisingly, some of them already appeared to be struggling. Wow. It's so early for that. And then the storm hit.
At first, it was just a sprinkle. I put my windshirt back on. And then my lightweight gloves. And then the wind picked up. Yup, a headwind as we made our way south. It took me 45 minutes to go those 4 "supposedly easy" miles and by the time I reached the Treeline I was completely soaked and getting cold. "AHHHHHHHHGGGGHHHH! That was absolutely miserable!" I commented to Mike and Jen as I squinted into the driving rain. They were both hundled under the super-poncho.
"I'm gonna need those woolly knickers!" My knees were freezing and getting stiff. I dropped my bottles and then my drawers and began untying my shoes. Jen reached into the magic crew bag and presented me with her woolly knickers. "Ah, yes!" They made my eyes light up. I didn't care if they were ladies knickers. They were wool and would be warm in this wet weather. "I'm also gonna need the Gore-Tex jacket." Jen pulled out her celeste-colored Golite jacket and I traded in my soaked windshirt for something more protective. I immediately felt better and off I went. Next would come the Halfmoon Aid Station 3 miles later. I wasn't planning on stopping. I had three bottles with me and enough food to get me the 9 miles to the next aid station: Twin Lakes at 39.5 miles.
During this stretch, we had a stair-stepped, 1,000 ft+ climb and it had stopped raining and I got hot so I took the jacket off. Then we began going down and I got cold so I put it back on. Then it got warmer so I took it off again. I couldn't stay comfortable! I felt good at first, but then my knees began their all to familiar rebellion. They began to ache more and more and I began to walk more and more. Even on the flats. Even on the downhills. 'No, no, no. This is not happening. No. It can't. Not this early on.' Then I ate my lest gel and finished off my last bottle. 'WHAT?!?!' Finally, I hobbled into the Twin Lakes Aid Station, found Jen and Mike, and sat down on the ground dejected. I was frustrated and worried, but happy that I had still covered the last 9 miles in 2 hours. I'll take it. Still on pace. Earliest projected time here: 6:30. Actual time: 7:30. Perfect. At least I've got a nice comfortable effort and I'm still holding a good pace.
Jen was waiting there for me with a smile as I descended the dangerously treacherous chute into Twin Lakes. I checked in and Jen steered me over to our pit location. I sat down. I downed another 12oz Gatorade. And an 8oz V-8. And another slice of pizza. I took a Tylenol. Rubbed some Tendon Rescue on my knees. Stretched. Rested. Focused. Joked around with someone else's crew who were waiting for their runner. Petted a huge wandering super-furry dog. And then I said goodbye and walked away, down the road towards the 3,400 ft climb up to Hope Pass at 12,600 ft. Hoo-Boy. I sure "hope" this gets better.
I don't run after leaving an aid station. Too much food digesting. Yuk. I feel bloated, but I know my body with break those calories down quickly and I'll be better in fifteen minutes. Going slow here to allow food to break down will be worth it in the end. I got to the river crossing and waded through the thigh-deep water. It felt refreshing. And five minutes later, the trail pitched upward. At first moderately, and then steeper. And steeper. And on. And on. And on. And then thunder. And then rain. I put the celeste Gore-Tex jacket on again. And then sleet again. And then hail. Marble-sized hail that pounded my skull. It hurt. I blocked everything out and continued my driven ascent. I was catching the group in front of me. We were out of the woods now and nearing more open areas at 12,000 ft. Soon, the weather began to clear and i could see the minimal aid station up here just below Hope Pass. There were people milling about and expedition-style tents. And Llamas everywhere. Probably ten of them. I picked up a warm cup of ramen noodles and got in line back on the trail. Second, in a line of five as we huffed and chatted our way to the summit. The weather had cleared and we could now see everything everywhere. All the peaks were white. It had warmed up considerably. Off with the jacket and prepared for the huge descent into the turnaround at Winfield.
The descent went well. Comfortable. We reached the road at the bottom and turned Right (west) for the last 2 or so miles to the turnaround. It was hot now. I took off my wool, long-sleeved shirt to prevent sweating too much. It was bright and sunny. I finally made it to the turnaround, checked in, and met Jen. My earliest projected time: 9:40. Actual time: 10:40. Okay, not bad. Still feeling good and ready for the ascent back up over Hope Pass.
Jen had a chair ready for me with all my stuff ready. Downed another 12 oz Gatorade. An 8 ox V-8. And a 12 oz Myoplex.
A piece of pizza for the road and I was off again.
Status at this point?
Time: 10:50
Place: 40th
Mental state: Focused and strong like bull
Physical state: Holding steady. No more knee pain. No aches. Just a bit of fatigue. Nothing bad.
Foot condition: Perfect. No pain. No blisters. No swelling. No toe pain. I love these Montrail Streaks and Injinji socks!
Ready to rock another 50 miles!
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