In the days leading up to the Leadville Heavy Half Marathon, I didn't really think about the race at all. In fact, even when I "toed the line" on saturday July 3rd, I still didn't feel like I was about to "race"... I guess that's good considering that my mind has been one of my greatest foes over the past two years. It is hard being good friends with so many incredible (and often, professional) athletes because I fight the urge to compare myself to them. That urge is really quite ridiculous actually. I have only been running for three years now. I never ran track in high school; In fact, I didn't play sports after my freshman year due to an illness that pretty much sidelined me for most of high school. So back to Saturday...Ok, lets start with Friday. Friday started with a lazy morning getting school work done before going for a 20 minute shake-out run with Cindy Henges, who was running the Leadville Marathon on the same day I was running the HeavyHalf. We followed our run with an ice bath. Dinner was one of my safe foods: rice noodles with coconut oil and himalayan sea salt...and a small glass of wine. I slept great: none of that racing mind and restless sleep that is so typical before a road race: I think the fact that the trail is slower than the road (thus, none of the pressure to hit certain paces) helps me relax before and during these events. Breakfast was two rice flower tortillas with salt and agave nectar and a couple of cups of coffee with unsweetened almond milk. After a 45 minute drive to Leadville, we checked in, pinned our numbers, and made our way to the starting line. This was not before finding out (while in line to use the restroom) that the heavy half marathon emphasized the heavy: 15.5 miles.
The first mile was in town, on asphalt, a gradual incline taking us towards the mountains. I knew that I could NOT go out fast, that I had an even longer day ahead of me if I went out too fast and crashed later...So I stayed focused on my breathing as we went up and up and up. At the half marathon split, the road flattened out a bit, but I didn't push the pace AT ALL. In fact, looking ahead of me, I saw people walking. Thinking that they knew something I did not, I slowed waaaaay down and eventually began walking. I was really focusing on my breathing, trying to keep it metered and under control. The first aid station was 2.2 miles after the start. It took me 22 minutes..."HOLY HELL, really?! If this were a half on the road I would be 2x as far" I remember thinking. Because we were ALL pretty much walking at this point, I was able to listen to the conversations around me: I learned that the only "flat" portions of the course were between the first aid station at 2.2 miles and the second aid station at 4.4ish...From there, the course got steeper and more rocky. With this knowledge, I decided to run between the two aid stations. However, by the time I got to the second station, I could see the rest of the course. I ran through the second station after asking where the next one was (7.7ish.... or the TOP of Mosquito Pass at 13200ft) and then kept running...but not for long. The next 3ish miles were the most treacherous trail I have come across...not so much in that it was scary, but more so because it was SO ROCKY and the trail was gutted out and cambered. It was hard not to slip or roll over rocks. I am not being overdramatic when I say it was impossible to get into any sort of rhythm on the way up. Everyone slowed down, and I was passed by 2 women. DAMN. I had no idea how many women were in front of me...but I kept telling myself that I would be able to pick them off on the way down IF and ONLY IF I was smart about my pacing now...Positive thinking, right?! My medial glutes were screaming and I developed a cramp under my rib cage...so annoying. As we went up, I was able to pick some people off, not necessarily because I was trying to but more because my pace was more consistent than theirs. I was so afraid of red-lining because I knew that if I did, there would be no recovering at 13200feet. I came across the photographer at one point and asked her if I was almost to the top. I had no idea...but I had seen about 10 men blazing back down the trail already. I still hadn't seen any women on their way down... both good and bad. Good that maybe there weren't that many in front of me, but bad because it meant that I probably still had a significant climb ahead of me. Both, it turned out, were true. I saw the first woman a few minutes later. Then another one. And other. "Oh Crap. Oh well" I thought... "This is not fun." "I just want to turn around. Where is the top?" Seriously, the part of this course on Mosquito Pass was like the Hill of Life x a bajillion. Then my stomach started to growl... Um, ok. I have never had to eat during a race before. There is a first time for everything. My first time just happened to be around 12500 feet. My swollen (and cold) fingers struggled to open the GU, and I struggled to get it down. It's hard to "eat" when you are struggling to breathe! Regardless, I ate and drank and kept moving...and saw 4 more women. DAAAAANG. I reached the turn around point after ONE HOUR AND FIFTY MINUTES. Again, a mild freak out ensued, similar to the one I had at aid station #1. I kept telling myself to forget about the time and to concentrate on keeping my breath under control and my feet underneath me on the way down. I was more intimidated of going down (always am) than going up. The fear of rolling an ankle on trail like this is real and I shoved that thought out of my mind almost as soon as it arose. I focused on staying light on my feet and popping down the trail. It seemed to work as I picked off a few men...Still was not passing any women though. I grabbed a little bit of sports drink (lets just say it rhymes with "hour-ade") at the aid station (4.4ish) and almost immediately regretted it as soon as I started running: it sloshed around and I started to feel kind of crampy in my abdomen. I don't know if it was the altitude or the drink, but whatever it was, I started to walk again. Because this was an out-and-back, this was UPHILL back to aid station 2.2. I guess if I had to walk, this was the section to do it, right?! No one around me was running either... I was at the point, mentally more so than physically I think, where I wanted to run again...because the sooner I began running, the quicker I would get down the mountain. So I started jogging, ran through the aid station 2.2 miles from the finish, and kept moving. I picked off a lady at this point. WOOOHOOO...but the others eluded me. I walked one last time ("hour-ade"-ick) about 800 yards from the finish: that kind of bummed me out, but I was afraid I was going to throw up blue "hour-ade" everywhere, not to mention, if I had thrown up, I would have been neurotic that it was impending altitude sickness, so I did my best to stave off vomit by walking... I was able to run the last quarter mile and finished feeling pretty strong and hating blue "hour-ade"... 8th woman OA, 2nd AG: 3 hours flat...
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