The Leadville Trail 100 Run
— an out-and-back course in the Colorado Rockies — is where legends are
made. The race has been around for almost 30 years but was a fringe
event for a long time.
Only a small group of hard-core people did it, but after it was featured in the book "Born to Run," which is the ultra-runners' bible of sorts, it became more popular, and it is now a well-known event.
This race is known for testing one's limits. The 100 miles of extreme Colorado Rockies terrain features elevations from 9,200 to 12,600 feet. With a 30-hour time limit, that's a maximum of 18 minutes per mile. The saying for finishers is, "You will give the mountain respect, and earn it from all."
Local running coach and ultra-athlete Kevin Leathers found this out firsthand in August. Leadville was Leathers' first 100-mile race. "I always knew in the back of my mind I'd do a 100-miler," he says. "It's the ultimate test in 33 years of running."
Leadville, Colo., is the highest incorporated town in the United States. Its 10,000-foot elevation is one of the race's appeals. Hope Pass, which runners must cover twice, is more than 12,000 feet in elevation. There are hillier, tougher races with more incline, according to Leathers, but the Leadville Trail 100 Run is prestigious because it is so old and because of Hope Pass.
There used to be only a half-dozen 100-mile races; now there are between 50 and 100 all over the country. Leadville is one of the original 100-mile races and is on most ultra runners' bucket lists. There are experienced people who can do the race alone, but with such a long event, having a crew is vital.
"When I signed up in November, I sent an e-mail to my closest friends and invited them to be on my team," he says. "Without missing a beat, everyone stepped up on Day 1." After 50 miles, he had a different crew member pace him for 10 to 12 miles between aid stations.
Leathers saysrunners really want people who know them, what makes them tick. "You need them to be honest and pull everything out when it gets hard." It's not really advisable to actually run 100 miles before the race, he says. "It takes too much time, and the risk for injury is too high."
When he signed up, he'd done several 50K races (which cover 31 miles). Then, as part of his training, he did a few more 50K's, two 50-mile races, and Run Under the Stars, which is an overnight race. "To find out how my body would do tired, without sleep," he says. "We ran all night and saw the sun come up. I got to see where my head was going to go."
There is also a three-day Leadville Run Camp in June each year that covers most of the course. "I went to find out how my body would react and see what steep really means," Leathers says.
The camp gave him a huge boost of confidence that his training was on track and showed him what it was going to take to finish. "I also learned how hard Hope Pass really is."
Eight hundred runners started the race on Saturday, Aug. 18, and 363 finished on Sunday. That's a pretty normal drop-out rate, according to Leathers.
"Without fail, every experienced runner says after 50 miles it is all mental," he says. "I'd done enough ultras and Ironmans to be familiar with that dark place. I know what it is and how to react. I'm not scared of it."
The "dark place" can come from dehydration or a "bonk" (running out of fuel). The body revolts in some manner, like cramping, and then the mind follows. It's a low point both physically and emotionally. "Every inner voice screams for you to stop," Leathers explains. "You make or break yourself at that point."
In long events, there is always a dark place. There are degrees of darkness and how long you stay. Says Leathers: "Expect it to come, and expect it to pass. Leadville is so long there is time to recover and to come out."
Over the course of 100 miles, Leathers met many challenges. His first time over and back Hope Pass, he lost about two hours. "I was short on calories and running low on fuel. It was a 3-mile climb at 12,000 feet by myself, and I kept looking at my clock. I knew I was losing time, and that added more mental anguish," he recalls.
Once he got refueled, it passed, and he'd forgotten all about it an hour later. But when he had to go back over Hope Pass, he hadn't factored in the time loss and the fact that it would be dark. His pacer for this portion of the run gave him her head lamp and worked him down the mountain in the dark.
"I'm not sure how she did it. It's still physically the hardest thing I've ever done." Close to midnight, he'd logged 60 miles since the 4 a.m. start as he sat down for the first time at an aid station to change his shoes and socks. He was feeling good and making good time as he climbed out of Twin Lakes.
There are rolling cutoff times at each aid station. If a runner misses the cutoff, he or she gets disqualified. Leathers was hours ahead at the beginning of the race and never thought he'd be racing cutoff times, but as he leapfrogged other runners along the course, he heard talk.
He asked his pacer if they were worried about cutoff times, and he learned for the first time that he was only 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff. "So we've got some work to do," he said.
Leathers proceeded to make up 30 minutes before the next cutoff and wasn't panicked, but there were still challenges ahead.
At 2 a.m., the temperature dropped to 37 degrees (from an earlier high of 70). Leathers wore his usual cold-weather gear — a cap, gloves, two layers of clothes, and winter jacket — but he didn't factor in the condition of his body after 16 hours of running. About a quarter of a mile from the next aid station, he started shivering from head to toe. His hip flexors locked up, and he could barely move. He was hypothermic.
"This is how it ends?" he said to himself. "This is not the story I want to tell." Worried that the medical team would pull him from the race, his crew members were able to get him warmer clothes and into the aid station next to a heater.
He ate some hot soup, and his mentor, Marshall Ulrich, was there to give him a pep talk. "Marshall picked me up and marched me out of the tent before medical could look me in the eye," Leathers says. "And remarkably, I recovered."
Ulrich walked with Leathers for a while and told him to just keep moving, to move with a purpose, and there was no way to quit. He also gave the current pacer instructions on how to get Leathers in a rhythm for the power line climb.
He recalls, "Brandon got me over in great time. I still don't know how I got up." At mile 83, he saw his second sunrise of the race and said to himself, "I've been out here a really long time," which he found funny. "I was very coherent and alert but not saying much," he remembers. "I wasn't like a zombie, though. I was surprisingly present."
At the May Queen aid station, which is the last one on the course, he arrived only five minutes before the cutoff. "I didn't even stop," he says. "My pacer had to catch up with me." He was fully aware at that point that he'd either be the last person to get a finisher's belt buckle or the first person to miss it.
"I didn't think. I just listened to my pacer," Leathers says. "When he said run, I ran. When he said walk, I walked. There was no thinking on my part, but it took every bit of energy just to do it.": The power of the mind over the body was never more clear to Leathers. "It's amazing how much farther you can go than you think you can go."
The last few miles aren't marked, but Leathers knew from his training when he had reached the last mile. He had eight minutes left. "I knew I wasn't getting the buckle, but I was going to finish," he says.
When he crossed the finish line at 30:05, there was still a huge crowd, and the announcer called him in and put a finisher's medal around his neck. He was No. 361 of 363 to finish.
"It felt so good to stop and then to sit down," Leathers says. When he got back to the house he was renting for the week, he took off his shoes and socks and lay down. "I fell asleep cramping and woke up five hours later still cramping," he says.
Leathers was very stiff the next day, but able to walk fine the next. Less than a week later, he went for a run. "The fatigue stuck with me. For two weeks I couldn't get enough sleep," he says. Leathers was the only first-time racer from Memphis to finish the Leadville 100. James Holland, another Memphian, finished in just over 27 hours.
Despite not finishing in less than 30 hours, Leathers is happy with his performance and determined to try again. "The 30:05 will mean more than any buckle because of what I went through, but I still have some unfinished business," he says.
He says he feels invigorated and motivated. He plans to hit the trails again this winter with an eye on next August's Leadville 100.
Only a small group of hard-core people did it, but after it was featured in the book "Born to Run," which is the ultra-runners' bible of sorts, it became more popular, and it is now a well-known event.
This race is known for testing one's limits. The 100 miles of extreme Colorado Rockies terrain features elevations from 9,200 to 12,600 feet. With a 30-hour time limit, that's a maximum of 18 minutes per mile. The saying for finishers is, "You will give the mountain respect, and earn it from all."
Local running coach and ultra-athlete Kevin Leathers found this out firsthand in August. Leadville was Leathers' first 100-mile race. "I always knew in the back of my mind I'd do a 100-miler," he says. "It's the ultimate test in 33 years of running."
Leadville, Colo., is the highest incorporated town in the United States. Its 10,000-foot elevation is one of the race's appeals. Hope Pass, which runners must cover twice, is more than 12,000 feet in elevation. There are hillier, tougher races with more incline, according to Leathers, but the Leadville Trail 100 Run is prestigious because it is so old and because of Hope Pass.
There used to be only a half-dozen 100-mile races; now there are between 50 and 100 all over the country. Leadville is one of the original 100-mile races and is on most ultra runners' bucket lists. There are experienced people who can do the race alone, but with such a long event, having a crew is vital.
"When I signed up in November, I sent an e-mail to my closest friends and invited them to be on my team," he says. "Without missing a beat, everyone stepped up on Day 1." After 50 miles, he had a different crew member pace him for 10 to 12 miles between aid stations.
Leathers saysrunners really want people who know them, what makes them tick. "You need them to be honest and pull everything out when it gets hard." It's not really advisable to actually run 100 miles before the race, he says. "It takes too much time, and the risk for injury is too high."
When he signed up, he'd done several 50K races (which cover 31 miles). Then, as part of his training, he did a few more 50K's, two 50-mile races, and Run Under the Stars, which is an overnight race. "To find out how my body would do tired, without sleep," he says. "We ran all night and saw the sun come up. I got to see where my head was going to go."
There is also a three-day Leadville Run Camp in June each year that covers most of the course. "I went to find out how my body would react and see what steep really means," Leathers says.
The camp gave him a huge boost of confidence that his training was on track and showed him what it was going to take to finish. "I also learned how hard Hope Pass really is."
Eight hundred runners started the race on Saturday, Aug. 18, and 363 finished on Sunday. That's a pretty normal drop-out rate, according to Leathers.
"Without fail, every experienced runner says after 50 miles it is all mental," he says. "I'd done enough ultras and Ironmans to be familiar with that dark place. I know what it is and how to react. I'm not scared of it."
The "dark place" can come from dehydration or a "bonk" (running out of fuel). The body revolts in some manner, like cramping, and then the mind follows. It's a low point both physically and emotionally. "Every inner voice screams for you to stop," Leathers explains. "You make or break yourself at that point."
In long events, there is always a dark place. There are degrees of darkness and how long you stay. Says Leathers: "Expect it to come, and expect it to pass. Leadville is so long there is time to recover and to come out."
Over the course of 100 miles, Leathers met many challenges. His first time over and back Hope Pass, he lost about two hours. "I was short on calories and running low on fuel. It was a 3-mile climb at 12,000 feet by myself, and I kept looking at my clock. I knew I was losing time, and that added more mental anguish," he recalls.
Once he got refueled, it passed, and he'd forgotten all about it an hour later. But when he had to go back over Hope Pass, he hadn't factored in the time loss and the fact that it would be dark. His pacer for this portion of the run gave him her head lamp and worked him down the mountain in the dark.
"I'm not sure how she did it. It's still physically the hardest thing I've ever done." Close to midnight, he'd logged 60 miles since the 4 a.m. start as he sat down for the first time at an aid station to change his shoes and socks. He was feeling good and making good time as he climbed out of Twin Lakes.
There are rolling cutoff times at each aid station. If a runner misses the cutoff, he or she gets disqualified. Leathers was hours ahead at the beginning of the race and never thought he'd be racing cutoff times, but as he leapfrogged other runners along the course, he heard talk.
He asked his pacer if they were worried about cutoff times, and he learned for the first time that he was only 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff. "So we've got some work to do," he said.
Leathers proceeded to make up 30 minutes before the next cutoff and wasn't panicked, but there were still challenges ahead.
At 2 a.m., the temperature dropped to 37 degrees (from an earlier high of 70). Leathers wore his usual cold-weather gear — a cap, gloves, two layers of clothes, and winter jacket — but he didn't factor in the condition of his body after 16 hours of running. About a quarter of a mile from the next aid station, he started shivering from head to toe. His hip flexors locked up, and he could barely move. He was hypothermic.
"This is how it ends?" he said to himself. "This is not the story I want to tell." Worried that the medical team would pull him from the race, his crew members were able to get him warmer clothes and into the aid station next to a heater.
He ate some hot soup, and his mentor, Marshall Ulrich, was there to give him a pep talk. "Marshall picked me up and marched me out of the tent before medical could look me in the eye," Leathers says. "And remarkably, I recovered."
Ulrich walked with Leathers for a while and told him to just keep moving, to move with a purpose, and there was no way to quit. He also gave the current pacer instructions on how to get Leathers in a rhythm for the power line climb.
He recalls, "Brandon got me over in great time. I still don't know how I got up." At mile 83, he saw his second sunrise of the race and said to himself, "I've been out here a really long time," which he found funny. "I was very coherent and alert but not saying much," he remembers. "I wasn't like a zombie, though. I was surprisingly present."
At the May Queen aid station, which is the last one on the course, he arrived only five minutes before the cutoff. "I didn't even stop," he says. "My pacer had to catch up with me." He was fully aware at that point that he'd either be the last person to get a finisher's belt buckle or the first person to miss it.
"I didn't think. I just listened to my pacer," Leathers says. "When he said run, I ran. When he said walk, I walked. There was no thinking on my part, but it took every bit of energy just to do it.": The power of the mind over the body was never more clear to Leathers. "It's amazing how much farther you can go than you think you can go."
The last few miles aren't marked, but Leathers knew from his training when he had reached the last mile. He had eight minutes left. "I knew I wasn't getting the buckle, but I was going to finish," he says.
When he crossed the finish line at 30:05, there was still a huge crowd, and the announcer called him in and put a finisher's medal around his neck. He was No. 361 of 363 to finish.
"It felt so good to stop and then to sit down," Leathers says. When he got back to the house he was renting for the week, he took off his shoes and socks and lay down. "I fell asleep cramping and woke up five hours later still cramping," he says.
Leathers was very stiff the next day, but able to walk fine the next. Less than a week later, he went for a run. "The fatigue stuck with me. For two weeks I couldn't get enough sleep," he says. Leathers was the only first-time racer from Memphis to finish the Leadville 100. James Holland, another Memphian, finished in just over 27 hours.
Despite not finishing in less than 30 hours, Leathers is happy with his performance and determined to try again. "The 30:05 will mean more than any buckle because of what I went through, but I still have some unfinished business," he says.
He says he feels invigorated and motivated. He plans to hit the trails again this winter with an eye on next August's Leadville 100.
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