Leave what is heavy behind

That was the theme of the Sheep Mountain Endurance Run - to leave what was heavy behind and find the strength to maintain the ultimate goal of forward momentum. To further that purpose of that goal, John handed each runner a small black rock when they checked in. Carry the rock throughout the course while you figure out what is heavy and weighing you down. When you did, drop the rock and the worries associated with that stress. Leave What is Heavy Behind.

Getting ready to start. It was a little chilly in the morning!

For me, some of that was the course its self. In 2016, I’d lined up for the Sheep Mountain 50 Mile (which was more like 54 miles!), thinking that I’d done everything needed and would not only finish, but crush that course. While I finished (in what still stands as the “Long Course” record from the Fair Grounds) I did not crush that course. The course crushed me - I’d not only underestimated the distance, I’d underestimated the elevation and the challenge. I remember looking up at Round Hill, wondering why I couldn’t make my legs run. And the final climb halfway back up Sheep Mountain nearly broke me. So I was eager to return to Sheep Mountain - even with doing the shorter distance, I wanted to see if the things I’ve learned would translate into a more enjoyable day. I’d pondered jumping up to the 50 mile, but after twisting my ankle at the Barr Trail Mountain Race, I was happy to just feel confident in starting the 50k. I know better now - rocks are the other theme of Sheep Mountain, and I didn’t need to expose a tired and still tender ankle to an additional 22 miles of rocks for just my pride. Leave what is heavy behind - the stupidity produced by pride.



After driving through a raging thunderstorm Friday night, Nick and I found a good place to sleep for night. So cool and quiet - one of the best nights of sleep in several weeks. The lingering clouds provided a brilliant sunrise as the runners all assembled. Since I’d missed the pre-race meeting, I collected my bib, shirt and rock. I made sure to attend the short briefing prior to the race start though. Even though I knew the course well, it was still important to hear if there were any changes, some things to look for during the race as well as the review of the intention of the race. John has done a lot of work to ensure that the race goes smoothly. It’s my responsibility to pay attention when he’s talking - especially when I wasn’t able to go to the meeting. And then as the first rays of the sun colored the mountains around us pink, it was go time. Time to Move Mountains.

In the hills. My pink shirt matching the sunrise.

As expected, the first few miles were a flashback to 2016. The rolling hills through the Fairplay suburbs, gradually climbing away from river and towards Sheep Mountain. I was worried about not remembering all the turns and the gradual climbs, but once I started running, it all came back to me. Just at what I hoped was a faster pace! The hills didn’t seem as intimidating this time, maybe because I was just running. I wasn’t thinking about the miles still to come - I was working on my focus of one mile at a time, one step at a time. I was in second for the women at that point, but keeping the lead women in sight. I wanted to race, but wasn’t ready. My legs felt heavy from Sunday’s Barr Trail Mountain Race and my ankle was tender. If the race came back together, I would think about racing. But until then - the primary goal was to finish and finish strong. I felt okay and was running comfortably. Stay focused on that. The hills were much easier feeling the on prior excursions and I was able to run all the way up the forest service road climb before Horseshoe. John passed me just as I started heading down towards Horseshoe, motoring along on his ATV to do the aid station rounds and check course markings.

The turn to Limber Grove, with Horseshoe mountain in the distance

North slopes of Sheep Mountain. 

I cruised through Horseshoe - I hadn’t drunk much in the 7 miles from the start and wasn’t ready to start eating. I’d lost sight of the leading woman somewhere between the turn onto Thompson Park Road and the Horseshoe aid station. Oh well. While I’d been able to run the entire climb, I hadn’t run fast. The roads were a little rockier then I remembered and I was definitely monitoring my footing.Well, rocks were part of the theme for the race and the rockiest sections were still to come. Limber Grove and the traverse across Sheep Mountain. Limber Grove wasn’t as bad as I remembered, and the rain the prior night had tamped down the dust. Still rocky and I didn’t even try to run through the scree field. Once we got into the trees though, it was magical. The early morning light dancing between the trees, the mist from the rain rising from the ground and the dew clinging to the leaves. I think I ran that section slower then in 2016 simply because I so busy looking around and taking it all in! Then voices echoed in the trees, the volunteers and campers standing at the end of Limber Grove Trail. Time to head up hill! Again, I was anticipating the rocky, baby headed climb above tree line. I started marching up the trail, setting my own pace. I wanted to run parts of it, but it was just too steep and rocky. I didn’t want to aggravate my ankle on the climb. I was hoping to be moving faster then in 2016, but no such luck. Something about stopping for photos a few times might have affected that! I was happy that I remembered everything about the climb - the switchbacks, the long traverse around to the north side of Sheep Mountain, then the final steep climb before turning south towards Brown's Pass. I opted not to try and run the rocky traverse. Discretion is the better part of valor.... Again, the primary goal is always to finish. There was a lot of challenge yet to come.

Old building above treeline on Sheep Mountain. I can't imagine working a mine up there.

Runners on the trail and the views all around

The Brown's Pass aid station was a hub of activity. From runners gathering supplies to the volunteers cheerfully handing out food and drinks, everyone was in motion. There were a few dirt bikers up there, cheering for every runner as we made our way out of the aid station. 50 miles to the right, 50k to the left. There was a brief moment of disappointment as I turned to head left, tempered with relief. I'd wanted to jump up to the 50 mile before BTMR, but had opted to stick with the 50k. Given the steady ache in my ankle, for once I'd been smart. There was no way my ankle would survive a 50 mile race on that terrain. I got my pre-finish line hug from John - he wasn't going to be at the finish when I came in. Too many miles to cover before he could get back. Then the plummet down to Pasture where Nick was waiting for me. And waiting was the key term. I'd been much slower then anticipated on the stretch from Horseshoe to Brown's Pass. I also knew I wasn't going to make up any of that time. It was gone for good. I took the descent carefully, picking my footing and taking my time. I didn't remember the drop to pasture as well as the climb, so seeing the small collection of vehicles was a relief. As soon as Nick saw me, he jumped into action. Wash face, refill bladder, get some water in my soft flasks, food and a little ginger ale for the road. I hadn't been eating anything so far - my stomach had been cranky with me at the start. The ginger ale helped a little and I set off for the long, slow stretch back to Horseshoe.

South Park from the Sheep Mountain travers

I left the aid station with two other runners - both first timers on the course. One of them was really excited that we were finally heading back and over halfway done, as well as finished with most of the climbing. I just laughed. We still have to climb back up Sheep Mountain! Or at least halfway back up... I don't think he believed me. But I knew what was coming. And this time I was ready for it. There were still a few miles to go though, the easy double track heading towards the camp ground and then the sharp left onto single track. Who ever marked that section did an awesome job - there was so much pink flagging at all the turns between Pasture and the climb back up Sheep Mountain that even if I hadn't known where I was going, it would have been obvious. I settled into a run/walk pace - running when I could, power hiking otherwise. I was still trying to nibble on some of the food I had with me, but it was a loosing cause. Every time I ate something, my stomach protested. Bleh. I've never had that happen in a race before, so it was actually a good problem. Something to work through under low consequences. Luckily, I was still able to drink my Skratch without too many issues.

Just like in 2016, just when you start getting worried about returning to Pasture and adding some bonus miles, the trail markings steered me to the right. Back up the slopes of Sheep Mountain. I was ready for the climb this time, anticipating it. And honestly, it wasn't that bad this time! Something about 20 less miles on my legs at this point... Just before we topped out on the climb, the tress broke, revealing an avalanche chute. The markings steered us through the mangled pile of trees and snow. I was able to get photo of some fellow runners picking their way through the debris.

Avalanche!

This is where I realized what my burden of the day was. Expectations. I came into the race with huge expectations of myself. Win. Set a new course record. Feel awesome the entire way. Run everything faster then before. Huge expectations that put so much pressure on an event. So far, I wasn't doing a good job with those pre-race expectations. I was in second, well behind the leading woman with the third place lady right on my heels and most likely going to pass me on the descent to Limber Grove. I'd been significantly slower on the Horseshoe to Browns section of the race, giving up huge chunks of time. My ankle was aching and my stomach felt like crap. All of the pre-race expectations were weighing heavy on my shoulders as I wasn't meeting any of them. I pulled the black rock out of my pocket and looked at it. Leave what is heavy behind. Expectations. The pressure I put on myself to perform is sometimes unrealistic and then I get frustrated that I can't meet those expectations. And while some things won't change - I will never stop setting goals when it comes to races. Sometimes the most unrealistic goals become reality simply because you believed that you could. But I can change how I approach those expectations and goals. With a sense of relief, I tucked that rock back in my pocket. I wasn't going to leave it behind because those goals have carried me further then I could imagine. But I can set aside the pressure of goals I haven't reached. Sometimes, it doesn't matter.

Course markings on the Limber Grove trail

The clouds and crowds were gathering as I started back on Limber Grove. So many hikers! And they were all polite and cheering for us. One group stepped to the side, with the leader saying as he saw me "Runner up!" Except I was hiking at that point! So I started running, cracking as I passed them "Guess I better not make a liar of you and start running!" Rain started spitting from the sky as I traversed the Limber Grove rock field. I pondered getting my rain coat out, but it wasn't raining hard yet. And Pasture was right ahead. I could survive a little rain before I got there.

I'd actually made up a little time on the return trip to Pasture. Nick was waiting, ready for me. I dropped my poles, got a little food - my fruit squeezes were really the only thing I could eat. Nick refilled my pack and my soft flask and I got another flask of ginger ale. And then the heavens opened and the rain came down in earnest. Rain coat on, hood up and off I went. Onto the stretch that twice before had humbled me. Twice before I'd walked as much as I'd run of the last seven miles. This time, I was determined to run strong until the finish. The rain was really coming down as I started up the forest service road, turning the track into a river. Small pellets of hail beat against my hood. The dirt was quickly turning into a thin layer of muck. Nothing like a little adversity for those final miles! I had to smile though - one of the reasons I'd struggled in the past two races was the heat on the open roads back into Fairplay. That didn't look like it would be an issue this time! My legs were tired, ankle aching, but I felt strong. I settled into a smooth, steady pace, focusing on my footing in the wet, slippery road. I could see runners ahead of me and was quickly making up the distance.

Again, knowledge is power. I knew that stretch, the few hills between me and the finish. I caught one of the runners as we turned off the forest service road. Time to focus on the next person in front of me. With the rain and everyone in rain coats, I wasn't sure where the now second place woman was. Would I be able to run her down? Every step took me closer to the finish line, decreasing the time I had. The water coolers were out at the BlueStem water station, but I didn't need to stop. I'd calculated my fluid needs on a hot sunny finish - not the rain and hail soaked miles I'd just covered. I had plenty of water to get to the finish. Just keep moving. Each hill was one less hill I had to climb, each turn an indicator of how much closer I was getting. In the distance, two figures appeared. We were on the final hill and the final stretch of dirt road before the last blacktop mile. I was hoping to stay out of sight, out of mind and make up those last few minutes. They were both walking and I was running strong. But just before they made the turn onto the blacktop, a car drove past. They turned to look at the car and saw me in the process. I knew when they started running it was game over. I wouldn't catch them -  not in the distance that was left. I finished in 6:52 - two minutes behind second and well over an hour behind first. In the end, that didn't matter. I finished feeling strong and with a huge smile.

Cruising into the finish

And those expecations before the race? Turns out I'd done better then I thought mid race. Sure, I hadn't won. Hadn't even gotten second. But I was still under the course record time and very close to my estimated finish time. I hadn't run everything faster then before, but I'd closed those last miles feeling strong and running smoothly. I hadn't felt awesome the entire way, but I'd managed the issues that had arisen smartly. I hadn't let the not eating get in my head and instead changed what I was taking in to my stomach's tolerance.  Most importantly, I'd been able to actually test my rain gear in a race!