Leadville 100 retrospect

2 miles till the finish: “Fuck this shit! I am never running this again, worst idea ever.”

2 weeks after the race: “I’m going to sign up for Leadville again, I could run it faster and it was actually a cool race.”
Now, two months after the race, maybe I can give an unbiased account of what transpired and what I thought of the Leadville 100.  First off, the start was way way way way too early.  I’m so neurotic of course I arrived at the start at least an hour and a half early.  Funny as it may seem this hour and a half was entirely devoted to and hoping for, that pregame bowel movement.  While I waited Jeremy and I took refuge from the cold in a granola/hipster sticky paper bug catcher (coffee shop).  I gazed on admiring all those that can imbibe of such a diuretic right before the race with sheer envy.  If I did that I can only imagine, it goes like this: waves of black liquid rushing gushing taking the role of Moses parting my…sorry, you get the idea.  Oh, if I had only known how much fun that undercooked calzone would be…  The start of the race itself is like something from a reality TV show or the movie Running Man whichever you prefer.  Flying cameras, loud speakers, blaring music, and loads of people chaotically set the seen of the carnage to come.   I tried to think positive but, my stomach was in an awful place, it had been all week.  I hadn’t even started running and I was already worried about shitting my pants.  For mile 80 something that’s an ok feeling, but now at the start, I should have been worried; too many distracting shiny things.  By the time I got to half pipe for the first time, my stomach was done; nothing was staying in.  I Pez dispensed a handful of Imodium, and enjoyed the company of Liza Howard.  “Check out this cool view.  Look at that deer…”  She was enjoying a nice day, I was trying not to crop dust her.  I will admit the scenery was pretty decent, but not super conducive for hiding a squatting runner in the throes of food poisoning.  At the 50 mile turn around Diana Finkel weighed me and checked the vitals.  There’s a person who first hand knows what shit hitting the fan looks like, and the way she looked confirmed mine had.  The second climb to hope pass was something special.  “Hey man, looking good keep up the good work!”  Looking good?  I’ve seen road kill that looked better than I did.  The silver lining to the climb up was the profound realization that pineapple GU tastes better on the way back up than going down.  To be honest, nothing much but more suffering followed.  The best part of the race was being able to finish the last ten miles in good company with good friends.
Over-all the race was filled with people that did not belong there (undertrained people who had read born to run and figured that made them an ultra-runner).  The race was consumerism to the max (it’s run by a business).  It was the most disrespect for nature I’ve seen at any run (garbage everywhere).  Of all the awesome mountains/terrain around you, you get to experience lots of road and practically none of it.  The aid stations are crazy well stocked with everything and anything you could expect with maybe the exception of beer.  Large groups of cheering spectators.  The buckle is outrageously big.  I would go back, but for no other reason than I think I could run it much faster, more in the range of 19-20 hours.  Did altitude affect me?  A week before I was running in the Wind Rivers so, no, I felt acclimated.  I switched out packs at the 50 mile mark carrying 50 miles worth of GU at a time (only pineapple roctane).  I ate at least 100 calories every 30 minutes.  I had two drop bags with Ensure and Pedialite, one at 50 the other at 25/75 where I had my light as well.  I ran in shorts and a t-shirt the entire race with ear warmers, sleaves, and gloves at the start and during the night, that was pretty much enough.  I ran in one pair of brooks pure grit shoes for the entire race, ya my feet and knees felt it by the end.  In hind sight I would have worn shoes with more cushion.
-Bob