Leadville 100 Pacing

Since moving to Colorado this past June, I maintained contact with all my running friends in Southern California. I remember how remote and extreme Colorado seemed... I wanted to become liason of sorts, for runners in SoCal that sought to run races here in Colorado.

Michelle Barton was one of the first to take advantage of my offer this past month when she flew out for the Leadville 100. Our crew included Cindy Yankee and Jenifer Armstrong...both experienced with crewing long distance races. Michelle's 8 year old daughter, Sierra, also joined the team when the adventure started on Saturday morning at 4am.

Leadville is a small mountain town in the Rocky Mountains, which finds itself at a modest 10,200 feet. Runners are challenged in this environment by the obvioius factors associated with oxygen deprivation and rapid weather changes. The Leadville 100 is ranked among the most difficult 100 mile trail ultramarathons in the United States.

Michelle arrived just one week before the race, placing herself at a distinct disadvantage for this race. I had concerns for her ability to perform in the high altitude, knowing how I felt after an entire month of living nearby. I knew that the elevation would be the main factor to overcome.

At the first aid station, mile 13.5, Michelle arrived looking out-of-sorts. Instead of being among the top 5, she found herself quite ways back in the pack. She didn't appear to be struggling, but admitted that she was having problems breathing. This scenario continued throughout the day. To make matters worse, mother nature opened a can of whoopass on everyone trying to run this already difficult course. Temperatures ranged from 30-45 degrees. Freezing rain, hail, and winds pounded runners into submission. At approximately 45 miles, athletes climb up and over Hope Pass at 12,700 feet. The 50 mile turn around is just after the climb, requiring everyone to climb back up and over Hope Pass again while they are still celebrating their survival from the first time.

The course cut offs require that athletes cover a certain distance over a specific length of time. If they are behind the cut offs, they are disqualified. In consideration of the weather conditions, the drop out rate rose significantly. I suited up to pace Michelle from 50 miles but the evil cut off warned near. Michelle, along with hundreds of others, were disqualified by the established timelines. An announcement from the lead volunteer advised all athletes in the aid station at 50 miles to ''exit immediately'' or be disqualified. At that moment, I knew that Michelle and many others were being pulled from the race.

At that same moment, a male runner was hurridly arranging his gear for the ''immediate exit.'' His name was Ladislav Lettovsky. Ladislav called out for someone to pace him...he had not prepared to have a pacer until that exact second. Knowing Michelle was out of the race...I told Ladislav I would pace him. He ran out of the aid station while I pinned his name on my chest, indicating to race officials, that I was his official pacer.

I caught Ladislav and then saw Michelle making her way into the aid station. I stopped and told her the bad news. She was shocked, and being the incredible athlete she was, never even thought about the cut 0ffs. Our exchange was rushed and left me feeling guilty for having to make such a quick decision regarding my pacer duties. I encouraged her to get to the aid station where Jenifer and Sierra were waiting. Once there, Michelle would also find her good friend Rob Cowan would dropped, as well, due to altitude-related illness.

I spent the nex 15 hours pacing Ladislav. He was determined and strong. On the climb up and over Hope Pass...again, Ladislav struggled to breath. He vomited regularly and climbed slowly, although using every ounce of strength. I offered suggestions for his form, knowing that he was using all his energy to move forward without consideration of things less important...like hiking form. He occasionally spoke in short sentences, letting me know he was well aware of the timelines he must meet in order to finish the race. Climbing above 11,000 feet, clouds and fog enveloped the valley below...making it's way smoothly up the mountain. It represented the looming cut off times that we would be fighting for the rest of the race.

The environment is remote and powerful. It is quiet. The only sound heard is that of natural streams, foot steps, and the arduous sound of oxygen-starved lungs.

Ladislav climbed up and over the pass. He asked me for a time check and then confirmed I had not lied to him. (Pacers will sometimes lie to the runner in order to motivate them or keep them positive.) I told him it was indeed, 8:05 pm, and he seemed to be satisfied with that time. He stopped only for a split second...not to look at the incredible view, but only to take a picture with his pacer.

At this point, Ladislav knew he was ''only'' 45 miles away from his goal. He had finished the most difficult climb of the race...and he knew he could finish.

The darkness came fast. Ladislav and I pounded down the north side of Hope Pass. At the bottom, we could see through the darkness...bright lights which Ladislav identified as the 'Twin Lakes Aid Station.' In the final few miles before Twin Lakes, we had to make our way across a stream using a rope. The water was cold but felt invigorating.

We arrived at Twin Lakes and Ladislav's crew/family was there waiting. We had to rush out of the aid station because the cut-off times continued to threaten Ladislav's successful finish. This would continue as we made our way from aid station to aid station.

Into the darkness we plodded. One moment will stick with me forever...it was about mile 63. The sky was black dark. We were running along a single track section of rocky trail and aspen trees were everywhere. Just 10 minutes earlier it had been raining hard......the temperature had dropped and we covered ourselves in black trashbags. I was running behind Ladislav, handing him his bottle about every 6-7 minutes. Conversation was nill and no other sounds polluted this surreal moment.

Lightning struck in the distance above us, and because of the darkness, we were illuminated with each strike. I counted like a 6 year old....one one-thousand, two..... And my scientific approach confirmed what I already knew; the lightning storm was coming over the hill right toward us. I continued counting until it was painfully obvious that we were about to go from cold and damp to soaking wet.

It was then that a strange sound alerted me. Something like amplified static or paper all around us. I looked above and tried not to run off the trail. Ladislav didn't even slow down. Did he know what was coming? Perhaps.

Hail fell out of the sky without warning. It poured frozen hail, the size of peas. We weren't forewarned by rain or sleet.......this was just hail and it was falling out of the sky. The trail turned white and the loud static sound became louder. The sound was being created by hail falling through the aspen trees. There was plenty of aspen trees and there was also plenty of hail. The sound was deafening. This moment might not be so memorable...but it was Ladislav's persistence throughout this moment that touched me.

Ladislav didn't even slow down........didn't even say anything or acknowledge the powerful hail storm. He didn't even slow down or speed up. He was a determined man and his focus, throughout this surreal moment, epitomized the dedication that one needs to finish the Leadville 100. That was an intense experience for me.....to see this athlete pushing through pain and discomfort......mentaly focusing his effort, despite mother nature's strength and determination to make his effort near impossible.

The remainder of the night became one endless moment. Time was still and nothing changed from mile to mile. Even though I was just a pacer, I had difficulty staying focused on our goal. I was tired, wet, and struggling. I was fully capable of running the 50 miles.....but the difficulty of this event was the weather and rugged trails. The darkness and cold wet trails were even taking their toll on me. But how could I even consider my situation when Ladislav had been running since 4am the previous day? That consideration would forever put to rest the idea of quitting. Ladislav pushed and pushed.......he knew he would finish.

With each aid station we learned just how difficult Ladislav's mission would be. Naturally, we would lose track of time and distance while out on the course. On approach to aid stations, I would run ahead and find out how close Ladislav was to the cut-off. I would then run back and tell him so he knew whether he could continue running at the same pace or lay down the hammer for a couple miles in order to build up a minute or two for the aid station.

This procedure was our only hope of succeeding. It was, however, extremely stressful and tiring. It required me to run additional miles and then back track. Once Ladislav arrived at the aid station, the 2 or 3 minutes we 'built up' was, of course, not nearly enough to rest or recover. Before Ladislav even had a moment to sit down, he was being pushed out of the aid station by a tired short-fused volunteer who threatened his disqualification. This happened at each aid station. His determination was not swayed, however.

Because of our position in the race, we knew that nobody running behind us would finish the race. Basically, we represented the grim reaper of the Leadville 100. As Ladsilav and I passed runners on the trail....we knew they would be disqualified at the next aid station. Let it be known we passed a lot. I would estimate that we passed more than 150 athletes as we ran the back 50 miles. We saw injured runners, who pleaded for us to send back help. I recorded their names and race numbers in my head.......then told the aid station about each injured person when I arrived.

We also saw runners that had mentally reached their limit. One runner just sat down on the trail and cried. I asked him if he was injured..he said, 'No.' I asked him if he needed me to send back help and he said, 'Yes.'

I felt empathy for this runner.......and the others we passed on the trail. I had great respect for their determination to cover 60-80 miles under these conditions. How could anyone in their situation consider themselves a failure? But, I knew, that they would feel unsuccessful when they finally climbed into bed later that day. That is what I love about this sport.......the people that compete in ultra-endurance are such quality people......such determined souls, that they feel unsuccessful when they cannot finish more than 80 miles in a high-altitude mountain race. That says it all right there....this sport isn't for everyone.

At mile 87, thing were looking up. The sun was rising and the rain had stopped. Our bodies were numb so we didn't realize we were cold anymore. The only problem was the pressure from the clock.......and we never knew how close we were to that daunting cut-off. On approach to the aid station, Cindy appeared on the road. She started firing out questions and asking what we needed. I didn't have the strength to answer or articulate our 'needs'. Afterall, the list was extensive and I just wanted to sit down. Ladislav needed all sorts of shit, including at warm shower, 12 hours sleep, a massage, three meals, warm clothes, 800 mg ibruprofen, etc....That's why these questions of 'what do you need' seemed so ridiculous to me.

It's so funny during the latter stages of a long race...crew or spectators ask simple questions to runners. And, as a pacer or runner, all I can think about is the 'true' answer to the question....for instance:

Mile 47, San Diego 1 Day '05:

Q(Jen): What do you need?
A(Jerry): I NEED HELP! HELP ME!

Mile 37, PCT 50, '07:

Q(Cindy): Do you want Red Bull?

A(Jerry): I HATE REDBULL! STICK IT UP YOUR ASS!

Ladislav and I reluctantly exited the tent at mile 87. We started running down the trail and Ladislav informed me that we were about to climb 'the second most difficult mountain' of the race. My thought? Crap! I forgot to take ibruprofen at the aid station!

The climb came fast...but we didn't climb it fast. I think it was more like a freight train climbing over the continental divide. The sort of speed that makes you wonder if you're going backwards......or perhaps influecing the time-space continuum. It seemed like a good time to take a nap, so I was able to get a few minutes of level 1 sleep while we climbed.

The sun continued to move higher in the sky. Ladislav, still determined, pushed harder than he had since I joined him at mile 50. He reached the summit and seemed empowered by the mathmatical certainty that he would finish.

We made our way toward Leadville, which was visible from over 10 miles away. The final 5 miles were different that the others. We were climbing a slight grade into town and runners were everywhere. We had caught up to a host of other athletes who were now finishing the race together.

Another memorable moment came in the final few miles of the race. Ladislav was obviously enjoying the moment.....thinking back over his adventure, and starting to realize some of the incredble experiences we had during the night. Ladislav was a man of few words.....and even more quiet now that he was thinking about all that had happened.

A British runner, however, that was walking alongside us......was not so quiet. He was chatting up a storm.....and he wanted to tell Ladislav about everything that had happened in his life over the past 2 years. Ladislav, with his strong Czech accent, was doing his best to seal up his chit chat with this British guy. The two accents were worlds apart.........and neither one was interpreting the other right. It was hilarious becasue Ladislav just wanted him to shut up and he just kept asking questions and telling stories. Eventually, Ladislav had to fight his way past and continue on alone.

In the final mile, Ladislav saw Anton Krupicka standing on the sideline. Anton is the course record holder of the Leadville 100.......he became injured earlier in the year and did not run the race this year. Ladislav called out to Anton, "Anton! I finished!"

Ladislav cried happy tears. He told me he would not run in the final few hundred yards because he had been walking for two miles. I said, "You have to run!" He did.

And he finished too.

By the way....only about 180 runners finished Leadville this year out of 550.