One Small Step

 With one step off the road, it was further then I had made it last year. That one step, onto the Gold Dust Trail to start the trek back to Poor Man's Gulch was the culmination of a year's worth of training, preparation and drive for redemption. That one step - that much closer to the finish line that had eluded me last year. I made that step to cheers from the volunteers and it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Last year, I never made that step off the road on to the Gold Dust Trail. I dropped at Tarryall III, not willing to take the chance of the long journey to Poor Man's when I wasn't even sure I would make it to Trout Creek. I've second guessed that decision a few times, but never regretted it. There is a difference between the two. I've spent last year knowing that I made the right choice, but still wondering deep down if I could have finished. I had 19 hours for 40 miles... I could (maybe...) have struggled to the finish line. I would not have been satisfied with that finish though and most likely would have found myself right back here - toeing the line for redemption from a race that wasn't meant to be. And who knows if I would have finished. With how I was feeling on the slog back from Como, I still don't think I would have. Poor Man's maybe.  I also know that continuing last year would have put both me and the volunteers at risk. The finish at all costs mentality is wrong - it does a disservice to those who make the correct choice to stop. We shouldn't have to explain or feel guilty for not finishing.

Nick double checking everything Friday evening. 

My preparation for the 2021 Silverheels was a little different then 2020. I eschewed the super long runs and the 50k a week. Instead, I focused on overall weekly miles - making sure I was getting the quality workouts, the hills and long runs with a few back to backs. As always, there were some hiccups in the training plan - close encounters with rocks will do that! But the hiccups may have helped - nothing like protecting me from myself. I trained with the gear I planned to use, making a point to use my poles throughout the buildup. I didn't do the dawn patrol long runs so I would be more comfortable in the heat. While my sunrise photo quotient suffered from the lack of 4:00AM starts, my heat training was much better. I forced myself to try different foods and eat a little more then I'm used to during my long runs. It's hard - I can run for 3 hours and really not eat anything. But that doesn't help with the 20+ hour adventures so I made the effort. So many little changes on just the training front. We won't even go into the "other life stresses" front!

Saturday, 4:00AM. Under a sky full of stars, John sent us off into the darkness. My goal for the first road section was to just stay comfortable. Conversation pace or slower - walk where I needed to and settle into a relaxed effort otherwise. With the mass start this year, I quickly found myself in the lead group of men. No lights ahead - just the dark road stretching into the morning. Naturally, the second guessing started just as quickly. Was I running too fast? Should I back off and chill a little more? I was at conversation pace though and was really enjoying the conversation with a first time runner from Texas. It was his first 100 and he was really looking forward to the day. We were so busy talking that I didn't realized when we hit the Alma water stop that I'd hit "stop" instead of "lap" on my watch. As per my norm, I had my watch covered so I didn't get caught up in speed during the first part of the day. So I didn't really pay attention to the screen when I looked at my watch after doing the lap. It wouldn't be for a few miles, when I was on the hike on the jeep road toward High Park that I would look at my watch. At first, confusion - why is it suggesting a workout? I'm running - you should be running as well. Then realization followed by annoyance. I wouldn't be able to really pay attention to race time since my watch time was all wrong. The annoyance quickly shifted. I wouldn't be able to pay attention to race time, but really I just needed to focus on the section I was in. From one aid station to the next. Restart the watch, shrug my shoulders, do a lap at High Park and then look forward. If I wanted to know total elapsed time, I could always look at my phone. No big deal. Nothing to get worked up about. 

Sunrise! The first sunrise of the weekend

I don't know if I hit High Park earlier then last year. But the sunrise seemed later, with the colors and the alpenglow hitting the 14ers to the west after I was on the out and back to the mine. Again, with everyone starting at once, the out to the mine was quiet. Last year, the out and back to the mine was quite the family affair with the three wave starts. I didn't realize how high I was in the field until I reached the turn around. Only 4 men had passed me, heading back to High Park. I would be over halfway back to High Park mysefl before the next woman met me on the trail. A bit of concern - was I going too fast? I silenced the nerves. It was nice and cool, perfect running temps. I didn't feel like I was pushing at all. Might as well just keep going. Then I saw Kat, Laura and Kevin heading up. Since I didn't know if I would see them again, it was hug time. Both Kat and I had one goal - finish. On my second trip to High Park, I got some water and such. No cocky "See you tomorrow" this time. Just a thanks and off down the trails towards Poor Mans. The drop off the High Park ridge was a steep as I remembered it and I watched in amazement as someone attempted to get a Rav4 up the hill. Yikes. I don't know what the outcome of that attempt was - I didn't stick around to find out! Once off the steepest part of the trail, I settled in with one of the guys and we played hopscotch a few times. He would pull away on the flatter, more runnable sections and I would catch back up with the powerhiking. 

Looking down on the High Park aid station Saturday morning

Poor Man's... I came through the gait with a huge smile. How could I not smile? So far everything was clicking and I felt awesome. Nick had the pit area waiting and set about taking care of things while I had some food. A few of the things I'd asked for weren't there - including one of the protein drinks I'd been looking forward too. Shake it off. Nick had also made a banana tortilla instead of the sandwich I'd changed my mind to after printing my chart. Again, shake it off. We got my face washed, changed sunglasses and I took my nerd hat. I didn't forget my snacks this time and even grabbed some fresh bacon from the aid station as I headed back into the woods. I was well ahead of schedule at that point so I had time to play with on the new single track to Crooked Creek. That wasn't the only section of new singletrack! After crossing Beaver Creek and taking to right to Jungle Hill, the pink flags led off the road onto some faint trails. Huh. That was different. I hadn't looked carefully enough at the map to see if this winding section of singletrack was a new edition or not. But it was marked, so I kept going on it. There was some meandering throughout the woods, the trail actually in pretty nice shape. Really strongly marked where the trail crossed the jeep road and then I could see why we'd taken that. At least closer to the top of the ridge, in an area where the trail had been horribly muddy the last two years, there was a significant re-route. Still very well marked in pink, so I assumed I was on course. It was going in the same general direction as the original road! And eventually popped out right where I expected to be, just a took a little longer to get there. While it wasn't an issue for me at all, it turns out that a volunteer group was doing some trail work in the area. They had camped down the road from Poor Man's and in the morning almost looked like the aid station! Normally, a group out doing trail work would be a welcome sight - except when they were using pink flagging to mark where they were going to cut in new trails and where they were working. That confused a number of the 50 miler runners the next day when they came through in the dark. 

That is the truth. It's a long way to either Jungle Hill or High Park!
Photo: Michele Grund

The next stretch was where the wheels started coming off last year. I hadn't taken my ice scarf from Nick this time - at 8:00 it was still a little too cool to warrant it. So I was very carefully monitoring how I was feeling throughout the miles. We had the first course change - a really sweet single track descent down to the Crooked Creek turn around with the trail meandering through fields of flowers and aspens. This was the trail that HPRS had been working on for the last few months and it was a fun little out and back. I was quite happy to only have to do it once though.... What goes down must come back up and this was a bit of a climb! And we kept climbing afterwards, up and up around the ridge to the top of the Crooked Creek drainage. Traversing the lower slope of Silverheels before turning down to follow the creek to Jungle Hill. More flowers and views abounded on this section, with more butterflies then I've seen in a while. Jungle Hill was a quick stop. Some water, some watermelon and a bit of chatting before turning my focus on Trout Creek. Just a few miles to Trout Creek, but they were exposed miles through high mountain meadows. The were runnable miles as well, but I didn't force the pace. A little slower here might prevent a repeat of 2020. I could feel that it was starting to get warm, but the nerd hat was doing exactly what I wanted. Nice big brim to keep my eyes relaxed and comfortable, back cape to keep the sun off my neck and help keep my core temperature lower. I was in a fantastic mood when I reach Trout Creek and the cheerfulness of the volunteers only brightened my mood even more. Either that or it was the pickles! 

End of the single track. Come Sunday, I was quite happy to NOT have to come back there.

One of the things that really annoyed me the entire day was starting to get into my head. My poles. I'd done a lot more pole work leading up to Silverheels this year, but the straps and carrying them on runnable sections was really driving me nuts. I would want to use my hand, drop the pole and have to reset the strap after every episode. I was too lazy to stop and stow the poles because it meant taking off my pack and fussing with things. Easier to carry them - but it was getting really annoying. I guess out of all the things to get annoyed by, the poles were pretty minor. But at the end of the day, it was enough to drive me batty. I wouldn't have given up my poles for anything on most sections of the course, but where I didn't want them they were annoying. I was really looking forward to dropping them off for the Gold Dust Figure Eight after Tarryall I. I knew I really wouldn't need them since most of that section of course was road, so was perfectly happy to leave them with Nick

Tarryall I - as the major hub aid station in the race, the road was hopping. There were volunteers, pacers, crew and spectators all lining the road and watching for runners. This year, the volunteers checking runners in and out were stationed right where Gold Dust Trail crossed the road. That was super nice since it meant I didn't have to check in at the aid station. I could just go to van and not worry. Nick was ready with the full pit area set up. He had everything organized, waiting for me. We did a short physical check list - shoes felt good still, body was comfortable, lungs a little tired from the smoke moving in, temperatures were heating up. Take the ice scarf, leave arm sleeves on to be able to soak in the creeks... And while Nick was dialed as usual, I made a mistake that would haunt me later into the night. Eating for these longer races is still a struggle for me. I'd missed the protein drink at Poor Man's so I tried to make up for it at Tarryall I. I should have stuck to the plan and not worried about it. When I left Tarryall I my stomach was gurgling a little. I tried nibbling on my tortilla, but my stomach wasn't having any of that. A bit of dry heaving when I started running led to vomiting up most of what I'd had to eat. Uh oh. Refocus, back off the fluids and calories for a bit. Luckily it was a shortish stretch to Gold Dust so I was able to just sip on my water and try to recover a bit. I gave up a little time that I had gained on my plan on that section, but I wasn't super worried. Other then the stomach, still happy and moving well. 

The Gold Dust section this year was completely different and a very welcome change. Instead of heading straight out the Gold Dust trail all the way up to Boreas Pass, we took the road out, then cut in on the Forest Service road. It was the same as last year, but at the start of the loop instead of the end. Almost no none-race related traffic on the section of road. Then we hit Gold Dust I and climbed up to Boreas Pass Rd on the trail. Gold Dust was an oasis both times. Ordering up some ice for my scarf and watermelon and up the hill. Climbing towards the sun and where the meltdown had started last year. This year we didn't go all the way down Boreas Pass Rd though. We turned at the Selkirk Campground turn, cutting off about half of Boreas Pass. Again, almost no traffic on Selkirk vs the plethora of cars on Boreas Pass. It was a much nicer course, and allowed runners to see others on course with the short section of overlap. Another scoop of ice for my scarf, some more snacks - so far my stomach was still a tad cranky, but tolerating things - and it was time for the short stretch back to Tarryall. I chatted with John, the volunteers and a few runners before heading back to Tarryall II. My mental state was much better, even with the cranky stomach. 

Last year, I had almost made up my mind that I needed to drop on the section of Gold Dust trail between the aid station and Tarryall II. This year, I was working on making up some time I'd lost and trying to keep my stomach happy. None of the dizziness or uncoordinated that slowed me to a walk. My body temperature, while a little high, was normal for where I was in the race. I was still ahead of the anticipated pace coming into Tarryall II. We had a decent pit stop - I took some food, washed my face, bug sprayed my legs and headed back off onto Gold Dust towards Como. I was hoping that I would be able to run most of the 4 miles this time since I was feeling so good. But another little mistake was lurking in the back ground. For some reason, I'd decided to use a tea mix with some added salt for this stretch. I think it was to decrease flavor fatigue and change up the drink. Whatever the reason, it was not what my stomach or my mouth wanted. I didn't drink enough and really struggled with getting the calories. I've done tea before and not had issues, so I don't know what the problem was. Whatever it was, it just wasn't working. I’d also hoped to run more of the Gold Dust trail, but I’d forgotten how rocky it was. Since I’d already been in overheated death march last year, I hadn’t really tried running. This year I wanted to run, but found my self hiking more as to not twist an ankle. At the aid station, got some food - potato soup! - and headed back over. Other then my stomach, I was feeling really good. I did get passed by a few guys on the return trip so I dropped from second to fourth. I’d had no expectations of holding second the whole day - as I’d told one of the guys, the goal was the finish line not a finish place. 

Choices... Make sure  you know where you are going!

The moment of truth. Tarryall III. Here was where it had all ended last year. I had some food and discussed changing clothes with Nick. Originally, I was still fairly warm and had thought about not changing until Poor Mans II. But Nick reminded me of the water and how cold it got overnight when I did Last Call. Only this time I was heading into that with 66 miles on my legs - not 16. I would not be moving all that fast at all. If I wanted to be warm for that cold and wet stretch, I needed to change. Besides, the van was right there and it would be easier to change at Tarryall then Poor Mans. So into capris and my long sleeved shirt I went. It was still a little warm for that, but I also knew I'd be walking the pass so didn't really mind. I took my Dyna 15 - already loaded with water and food, as well as my warm overnight gear. Time to head off into the sunset!

And there it was, the step off the road into the unknown. I was heading back to Poor Man's - a trek I didn't make last year. There was a huge weight off my shoulders. I had done it - past the point of failure  and off toward the finish. I still had over 30 miles left to cover so the finish wasn't a sure thing. But I was confident that I would be able to reach it. I was actually still on target pace, even with the extended break. I also knew that things happen in the last 30 miles and hopefully I'd banked enough time in my plan to still hit my goal time. It would all depend on what happened overnight. My legs were tired, but nothing like when I'd been at this point in other races. My feet were doing fine - the hot spots had been addressed with changing shoes and socks. Mentally, I was raring to go for the next 30 miles. The only question mark was my stomach - there was still the lingering crankiness from many miles before. I was able to get some food down, but I wasn't sure how long that would last. 

I would find out soon enough. I ended up hiking most of the climb back up Little Baldy to try to nibble on some food without much success. I chalked it up to eating a bunch before I left Tarryall III. The hoped for runable section after the plummet off Baldy didn't appear. I had to power hike/shuffle the downhill and rocky road into Trout Creek. It was just too rocky for me to feel comfortable running. Even with my light, I wasn't quite trusting my footing on the babyhead filled jeep road. My run-shuffle-hike was still pretty efficient though and I was quickly approaching the Christmas lights strung along the creek and road leading to the aid station. So many hours had passed since I'd seen the Trout Creek gang, but they were still there - cheerful as anything. I got some chicken broth and a few other tidbits, then took off into the darkness. It was only four miles or so to Jungle Hill - I didn't need to hang out at Trout for that long. A few campers were still up and every time a runner went past them, they started hooting and hollering. I hooted back, then focused on the road ahead. I walked a little longer then I wanted to finish sipping the chicken broth, then settled into my run-shuffle pace. It wasn't as fast as planned and I'd already given up some time on the trek from Tarryall to Trout Creek. But when I tried running, my stomach started protesting loudly, to the point of gagging when I drank. So run/shuffle it would be. It was still forward momentum!

Another 10 minutes given back when I got to Jungle Hill. Different crew this time, but still as cheerful as ever. Another few nibbles and some chicken broth and ginger ale. Then up the Crooked Creek drainage. I knew that hill would be hard. It was hard when I did Last Call back in 2019. It was hard when I'd run the loop after the South Park races. I was not anticipating  how hard it was at that moment in time, with that many miles. I don't know what exactly what happened, but it felt like all forward momentum just halted. I was still moving, but it was step-step, lean on my poles, let my stomach settle, repeat. The moist in the air seeped throughout my clothes, chilling me deep to the bone. I thought about stopping and putting on my coat, but just wanted to keep moving. I would be up the drainage and away from the creek soon enough. Even though the darkness changed the terrain, I was happy I'd run this section a month before. I knew what was coming and had more recognition of the trail and surroundings. That didn't help with maintaining my pace though! I lost more time compared to my anticipate splits in this one section of trail then the rest of the race. I had been hoping to get to Poor Mans II and out before the 50 mile runners got there. That wasn't to be. I met the full field head on as I was meandering my way back through the single track along the road. Unfortunately for some of the 50 mile runners this was where the course marking were confused with trail work flagging. I honestly don't know if I went the right way both times, but... I took the longer route through the woods. ONce back on the road, the full glare of the 50 milers hit me. I know some people love their super bright waist lights but you have to respect oncoming runners who haven't seen another person in hours!

Finally. Poor Mans II. Nick was ready for me. He had some food - nothing of which sounded appealing with my dry heaving. I put my coat on, got some rocks out of my shoes and pondered the next 20 miles. I was an hour and a half behind my schedule, meaning I didn't have much leeway for my goal of breaking 30 hours. But I was still moving okay. Nick did have my coffee drink, which actually sounded good. I had a few sips of that, took some to go and headed back into the woods. Time to retrace my steps to High Park! I was happy with how my legs felt - if my stomach hadn't been so cranky I felt like I could have run a lot more of that section. As it was, the run/shuffle/hike was still working well. I decided to turn some music on - there were eyes in the woods and they were making me nervous. The music might not have done anything but make me feel better, but it gave me some company outside the voices in my head. Not saying the voices were dragging me down, but sometimes getting out of my head is a good thing! This was also the easier part of the course. One jeep road loop up and back around to Beaver Creek, then the main road up and through the private property. Just keep moving through the cold, through the darkness. On the other side of the private property, I knew the road would tip up in perhaps the second hardest climb of the day. Luckily in the dark, I couldn't see the steepness of the hill! Just keep moving forward - up and up. Every step took me that much closer to High Park and my second sunrise.

High Park was a quiet crew when I met them for the 3rd time. It was that pre-dawn darkness where the cold has settled into everything. I checked in and out  - hadn't been drinking or eating that much so really didn't need anything. Made a bad joke about Kenny Chesney being my bear repellent as that was the song playing on my phone. Just get to the mine and get my blue bracelet to go with my grey one. The running was definitely fading on the stretch - more a shuffle/power hike then anything. But I was still maintaining a solid pace - faster then at Sangre at this point even with the much worse stomach. And I would see my second sunrise. The sunrise that I'd missed last year. I was looking forward to the light and the recharging that the sun provides. The warmth after a cold and dark night. But first to the mine. I grabbed my blue bracelet and pondered taking a photo showing both my bracelets and me at the mine. Nah. Didn't need to. With my blue bracelet on my wrist, I started making my way back down. The sun was starting to peak over Mount Silverheels and that was the photo I wanted. Just as the sun crested the mountains, I reached a good spot for a photo. Of course, I didn't notice that in pulling my gloves off to get the photo, I'd pulled my blue bracelet off as well... When I got back to Poor Mans to show them my proof of reaching the mine, I didn't have it. It was gone. The volunteers didn't make me go back up to get it, trusting that I'd actually covered the distance. One of the other runner heard me tell the story about taking my gloves off for the sunrise photo and said he'd keep an eye out. 

The elusive second sunrise, tinged with smoke

Less then 10 miles to go to the finish. I was hoping to be able to run some of the drop down from High Park, but my legs weren't having any of that. Between my legs and my stomach, maintaining a fast hike was the best I could do. Didn't stop me from trying to run/shuffle on some of the flatter sections! The two steep hills were the hardest of the race. I was leaning on my poles and very gingerly stepping down through the rocks. Everything was starting hurt with every step. But I was almost finished. Only one more really steep hill traversing below the power lines. It was at that point when I started on the switchbacks under the power lines that the first 50 miler caught me. He looked so fresh, so comfortable running. Oh, to only have 45 miles under my legs again! I was actually quite happy to have him around during that section as a sketchy local had set up his camp right in the middle of the abandoned cabins on the second to last switchback. Down the last switchback and the water drop I'd been looking forward to was gone. I had plenty of Skratch and some coke, but wanted some plain water. Oh well. It turned out someone (perhaps the same sketchy local?) has taken the entire water drop - the table, the two jugs and everything else. I would survive with out it. Less the five miles to go. 

I can't even say it was the longest five miles of the my life. I actually was only 20 minutes slower then anticipated on that leg - and that was with stopping for a nature break and more dry heaving! I'd given up trying to run with my stomach rebelling every time and my calves starting to complain. But I could still maintain a mean power walk! I did get a little frustrated every time someone passed me running comfortably. I told myself that most of them were in the 50 miler, even though I knew a few were fellow 100 mile runners. The stretch back into town felt much longer then back in 2019. Maybe because I was running still when I did Last Call. But it didn't matter. I was getting closer to the finish. When I finally got service, I texted Nick that I was about a mile out. Then again when i turned onto the main road to the track. I'd wanted to try to run that last mile, but no. My calves were hurting so bad at that point that running was out of the question. I turned onto he track for the final 300 meters to cheers. I'd done it. Redemption from last year's DNF  - taking the lessons from that experience to propel me to my second fastest 100. And given how much harder this race was then my first - a much better 100 overall. I hadn't met either of my time goals (breaking 28 hours and the course record and then breaking 30 hours) but still had a solid time of 30:31. I was in the top ten and won the women's race. 

I have been waiting for this moment for an entire year!

Of course, when I stopped moving, everything hurt. It's amazing that you can keep going one step at a time during the race, but once you cross the line the body says enough. And remember that runner who said he'd look for  my blue bracelet? Well after he finished, he came over and handed me a blue bracelet! He said he'd started looking for it in the areas where the sunrise photos would be the best and there it was!