Tuesday, August 16, 2011

That's Leadville - My MTB 100 Race Report

Most of you are probably sick of seeing updates from me about Leadville.  Okay, this is my race report and I’ll put it away.  Well . . . you won’t see any more status updates about it anyway.  Editor’s Note: I attended a Carmichael Training camp for the Leadville 100.  The added benefit was that Carmichael would handle our drop bags and staff the aid stations for us.  HOWEVER, we had to wear a Carmichael cycling jersey.  Carmicheal put a spotter before every aid station and they would radio ahead so our stuff would be ready when we got to the station.  The Charmichael flags and tents also made it easy to spot our aid station in a carnival of people, bikes, and vehicles, and that was huge.  Okay, now I’ve explained the Carmichael jersey . . .

There are two separate sections below dealing with specifics of equipment and hydration.  I didn’t want to bore the casual reader with the details.

You’re better than you think you are.  You can do more than you think you can.
-          Ken Chlouber
Pre Race Meeting:
I won’t spend a lot of time going through the pre-race meeting. It was hosted by Ken Chlouber, and there were the usual introductions, a few words from key people, and a review of the race rules (actually, when the race director tried to introduce the rules Ken said, “There are no ‘rules’ in Leadville!”  So the race director said, “Okay, so let’s review the race PROCEDURES.”)

A couple of really poignant moments from the meeting:

Last year on the Powerline descent a rider crashed.  If other riders (doctors, nurses, and medics) hadn’t immediately given up their race and stopped to help him he would have been Leadville’s first casualty.  They had three only three minutes. They stayed and cared for him until he could be evacuated from the hill. THAT is Leadville. The meeting really started with that rider presenting each of the eleven riders who administered first aid with a framed poster of the Leadville Race.  I can’t describe it – you had to be there.

Two Navy SEALS were racing this year for the Wounded Warrior Foundation, along with several other representatives of that organization, raising money and attention for members of our Armed Forces returning from wars overseas.  The standing ovation lasted for several minutes, and the noise was deafening.  Ken was talking about the race, and said, “when they (the SEALS) quit the race, THEN you can quit!”

A couple of other quotes from the meeting worth referencing:

About not giving up . . . “ You’re gonna hurt, but don’t give up! This race hurts everybody!  When Lance does this race, he hurts!  When Rebecca Rusch does this race, she hurts!  . . . of course, they don’t hurt for as LONG as you will, but they hurt!  The sooner you finish the sooner you stop hurting.”

The weather . . . “Take a rain jacket.  If you’re on top of Columbine (Above the treeline) and you see lightening, get off your bike and squat down. Don’t SIT down – squat down.  If your hair stands on end, and the rocks around you are buzzing, grab a Bible and start cramming for finals.”

The Race
Okay, so let’s get to the start line. I won’t go into the whole pre-race ritual, but I got up at 3:15AM with a sour stomach.  I made myself eat a solid breakfast of cereal, scrambled eggs with a piece of cheese on toast.  I figured I had three hours until the gun went off so I would have time to digest it.

It was clear and cold when we left the hotel for the 45 minute drive to Leadville.  The Perseid meteor shower was supposed to show that morning, but Jan and I saw only one meteor on the drive.  We pulled into Leadville at 5:00 AM and I got the bike out and walked it to the start area.  This year they put us in corrals based on finishing times from prior years.  Needless to say us first-timers were at the very back. I rolled my bike into the corral and laid it down in the third row.  I then went back to the car to finish getting dressed and prepped.  With 20 minutes until gun time I was in the corral with my bike, wearing an under armor liner, bike jersey, arm warmers, MTB gloves, helmet and sunglasses.  The sun was still behind the mountains, so it was pretty cold.

The gun went off and we rolled out – all 1,600 of us.  It took over three minutes for all of the riders to get across the start line. This was the first opportunity for wrecks – let’s face it – mountain bikers don’t typically ride in pelotons.  Sure enough, there was a tangle up within the first ½ mile, but it sorted itself out and I didn’t have to stop riding.  The first few miles is all pavement, and there was a police escort to keep the race and the field neutral.  We were still rolling at 25 mph down the street, and the air was so cold that my fingers went numb and I got a cold headache.  It would be an hour before my fingers would check back in. At mile 3 we hit the first stretch of dirt road and it was game on.  

There had been no rain in Leadville for 10 days – pretty unusual for Leadville - so the whole race was dusty.  Those first few dirt miles were so bad that visibility was 15-20 yards, and the dust was choking.  The race backed up a bit as everybody made the left turn onto St. Kevin’s. St. Kevin’s starts with a 2.4 mile Cat 2 climb up a narrow jeep trail,  then the trail gets a bit easier but still climbs a total of 1,000 vertical feet in 7 miles. Not a lot to say about this except the hardest part was riding at everybody else’s pace because there wasn’t much room to pass. I decided I would just take it easy and save my energy for later.

Over the top of St. Kevin’s and the peloton started to break up on the descent to the Carter Summit aid station. At this point I’m not sure where I was in the field, and I really didn’t care, so long as I made the cutoffs. After about another mile of descending trail and a short climb we rolled through Carter Summit aid station (I didn’t stop at this aid station on the way out, which was almost a mistake because I would run out of water a few miles before Pipeline aid station). Out onto Carter Lake road, an asphalt road, for a three-mile descent where the bikes were rolling between 25-30 mph (which ain’t bad for a mountain bike!). So far, so good.

The BAD news about Cart Lake road is that it bottoms out at the south end of Carter Lake and then starts to climb again. The next five miles climbs back up 1,000 vertical feet, moving from the asphalt of  Carter Lake road, to the graded dirt of Hagerman Road, to the Sugarloaf jeep trail, ending at the top of the Power Line trail – probably the most dangerous descent of the entire race.

The Power Line descent that you see in the movie is deceptive.  All they really show you is the last ¾ of a mile that drops down the face of the hill.  The COMPLETE Power Line trail drops 1,500 feet over seven miles.  It starts through a series of shallow to steep descents and climbs through a series of four false summits before it finally dumps you out on the face for a “get so far back on the bike that you’re  stomach is on your saddle” controlled fall over the last ¾ of a mile. Start counting flat tires – there were several pinch flats and ripped sidewalls as the washouts, tree roots, and rocks beat on the bikes.  Karma being what it is, I really thought I was due for a flat but I made it to the bottom of Power Line with the rubber side down and both tires still holding air. Wa-freakin’-hoo!!!  Oh, and I forgot to mention – spectators line the Power Line descent like a climb in the Tour de France.  There was even a guy in a gorilla suit somewhere on the descent.  It was insane! Across the creek at the bottom of the hill, up a short rise, and out onto the asphalt headed for Pipeline aid station at mile 27.  

From the bottom of Power Line until the Twin Lakes aid station at mile 40 I started looking for other riders to get into a pace line.  The asphalt is only about 3 miles, but the trail section that follows the Pipeline aid station is also ideal for pace lines.  I hooked up with two other guys on the asphalt and soon we were turning 22-25 mph and rotating about every 2 minutes.  It was freakin’ awesome after the confinement of the narrow jeep trails, and we blew past several other pace lines until we hit the dirt road just before the aid station.  We had to slow down and cross the narrow bridge over a creek, pedal up the rise, and we were at Pipeline.

Welcome to the madness!!!  Bodies and bikes everywhere!  The aid station was probably ¼ mile long, with tents, canopies, cheering sections, spectators, cars, and who knows what else. It looked more like a county fair with big flags and banners displayed so incoming riders could find their support crew. Carmichael had these big flags by their location so we could see them easily, and their taking care of the drop bags took a lot of stress off of the overall race.  They were great – really, really good.  Just in time, too!  I reloaded the camelback, drank more water, grabbed some replacement gel packets, thanked them, and got back out on the trail to Twin Lakes.

The outbound Twin Lakes aid station represented the first time cut off for the day.  You had to exit the Twin Lakes aid station four hours after the race start, or they pulled you from the course.  40 miles in 4 hours may not SOUND like a challenge, but trust me – it’s not an easy cutoff to make.  The trail between Pipeline and Twin Lakes is mostly jeep trail, but includes a couple of miles of single track that begin with a 200 yard descent down a hill known as “Little Stinker.”  Here I came across the first injury of the day.  He was attended by three other cyclists, and appeared to be resting comfortably, but he had a nasty scrape on his shoulder that indicated a separation.  I rolled past and down Little Stinker, climbed the trail on the other side, and rolled down a two-mile section of single track switchbacks, exiting on a dirt road with only a few miles to go to Twin Lakes.  Got organized and found a pace line – got rolling, and I made it across the dam to Twin Lakes aid station in 3:35. I had kind of a funny thought rolling across the dam, though . . .”geeze, I feel like I’ve been on this bike ALL DAY!”  Don’t ask me to explain it, because, until late that afternoon, I would have no idea what “all day” really meant.

And there was Jan – working the Carmichael aid station like a pro.  I really don’t recall what we said, or much about the aid station, because it was disorganized chaos.  I still got my gels, water, and Gu Brew bottle, I THINK I had a bit of cola, then rolled through the circus and out the aid station exit.  There were a series of short, rough rollers just outside the aid station, then across a wide pasture before reaching a ranch gate.  The trail passes through private property, but the owner is pretty forgiving and tolerant of all the cyclists, so long as the gate isn’t left unattended or open.  There were a few volunteers staffing the gate, and as we passed through one of the volunteers said, “see ya’ in 16 miles.”  I don’t know why, but that was a little eerie.  It’s 8 miles to the summit of Columbine, almost all of it uphill as you climb from 10,000 to 12,500 feet. The next cutoff comes into play now.  If you don’t make it back to the Twin Lakes aid station within 8 hours following the race start then your race is over. I had completed the round trip from Twin Lakes to Columbine in 3:15 in training camp, so I was confident I could make it . . . ummmm . . . . yeah . . . .

The first half mile of the Columbine ascent is a bit steep, but the jeep trail is good so it’s not a difficult climb.  About half-way up the Columbine we started seeing the pro racers on the return trip (this is an out-and-back course).  Todd Wells was leading and an Austrian was 10 yards behind him.  The next group was about 2 minutes behind them. We had to be very careful to stay on the right side of the road, and we would call out “rider up” as the riders descended.  Several of the pros took the time to cheer US on, even as we were cheering for them. “You guys are looking great!  Keep it up!”  That’s what they said to us – That’s Leadville.
Somewhere in that stretch of trail I rode past what had to be a very lonely rider going down the hill.  Well, he wasn’t riding.  He had his bike on his shoulder and was walking down the road.  Some mechanical had ended his day so badly that apparently he couldn’t even roll his bike.  It was five miles back to Twin Lakes from where he was walking. Another mile up the road and we passed another casualty, already attended.  It looked like he had bailed off his bike just before it launched over the side of the road and hit a tree.  He was a bit dazed but okay, but his bike was done.

About a mile from the summit of Columbine we started getting into the really tough sections of the ascent.  It was difficult to ride these sections because (1) they were rough; (2) they were at 12,000 feet; (3) we could only ride the right side of the trail because oncoming traffic descending; (4) other riders were walking the trail and pushing their bikes; and (5) the trail got fairly narrow at this point.  About the only choice was to dismount and push the bike uphill.  We were now above the tree line, and the REALLY hard part was looking up and being able to clearly see it was another mile to the Columbine summit and turnaround point, AND being able to see that the line of people pushing their bikes extended for almost ¾ of a mile.  Welcome to the Columbine death march.

Here my race almost ended.  As I tried to unclip from my left pedal my cleat got stuck and wouldn’t release.  I was at a dead stop and stuck in my pedal.  Gravity took over and I fell over like some character from a bad cartoon. I had to actually take my foot out of my shoe before I could examine my shoe and noticed I was missing one of the screws that held my cleat in place.  Every time I tried to twist my foot to get out of the pedal the cleat would rotate rather than release.  Greatness.

I sat down by the side of the trail, pulled out my bike tool, and tried to tighten the remaining cleat screw as far as it would go. Maybe.  But since I was in the line of the death march anyway I wouldn’t get to test it for awhile.  

The one rule I had for pushing the bike was “don’t stop.” No matter how hard it got, or how tired I was, I would keep moving forward.  Push – climb –push – climb – “rider up!” – climb . . . . and so on. FINALLY! I reached the summit ridge and remounted to ride the ½ mile traverse to the turnaround and the aid station. “Click” rats.  My busted cleat locked into the pedal again.  I really didn’t want to do that.  There were a couple of sections of the traverse where riders were walking their bikes, but I rode all of it because I couldn’t get my foot out of the pedal.  I rolled up to the aid station, unclipped one foot, got stuck, and almost fell again.  Great – audience included.

One of the volunteers came over to see if I was okay, and I explained my busted cleat.  He got it, but he was not allowed to help.  The volunteers have been coached to get racers off the summit as quickly as possible.  First, there’s always a threat of weather, and second, at 12,500 feet, already under physical stress for almost 6 hours, “recovery” is out of the question.  The atmospheric pressure is only 64% of sea level.  To put it in perspective, at that atmospheric pressure aircraft pilots are supposed to go on supplemental oxygen. Still, my choices were “fix my cleat” or “try to descend some very rough trails with one shoe unclipped.  I sat down on the ground, removed my shoe, and got to work.

My MTB shoes are good shoes.  They come with anchors for toe studs – two supplemental cleats in the toe of the shoe that can help you dig in through muddy conditions.  I didn’t have studs installed, but I had two screws in place to keep mud and junk out of the screw holes.  I pulled the cleat, removed one of the screws, and – FAROUT! – they were the same size and threadcount.  The PROBLEM is the screws are too short.  But I removed the spacers from the cleat, and pushed a bit, I was able to get these screws in and anchor the cleat – but it cost me 20 valuable minutes.  Mick, a friend I met riding in Leadville with Doc and Tom, told me after the race that he saw me sitting on the ground with my shoe in my lap.  He didn’t recognize me at the time, but he told me is only thought was, “what the heck is that guy DOING?”

Refilled the camelback, grabbed a Gu Brew, tested the cleat (it worked!), point the bike back down the trail, and WE WERE BACK IN BUSINESS!!! 

The descent down Columbine was done in 45 minutes.  The first 10 minutes were a careful descent of the crowded, rocky trail, and then it was let the bike find its way down the long trail back to the gate. There wasn’t too much eventful here, but when I passed back through the gate (16 miles later) I noticed it was a lot warmer now.  I rolled back into Twin Lakes aid station at 7:20.  Jan was there – gave me a kiss and smile and told me “you got this!” 


 I rolled out of Twin Lakes toward the last cut off at the Pipe Line aid station (9 hours).  1:40 to cover the 11 miles . . . but it was warm . . . and the wind had picked up . . .

You could tell riders were starting to feel the heat.  Heads were down, cadence was down, and pace was down.  I felt hydrated, and fueled, and rolled past several, climbed back up the single track, down the hill and hiked up Little Stinker, then the jeep trails to Pipeline.  The wind was about 8-12 mph and right in our faces as we slugged our way back to Pipeline.  I hooked up in a couple of short pace lines but passed them as they ran out of gas.  I was pleasantly surprised I had the legs to drive the bike as well as I was rolling.  By the time I rolled into Pipeline, still about 1:20 ahead of the cut off, I was starting to feel the fatigue.  I reloaded of water, Gu Brew and gels, choked down a bit of cola, and rolled out to the dirt and asphalt leading to the Power Line ascent.  The wind really bled riders in this section and I powered through much of it alone. 

Suffice to say the Powerline ascent was a nightmare.  I pushed the bike up the ¾ mile face in another death march, before riding and walking the remaining miles to the summit of Sugar Loaf.  I rolled over the summit at exactly 10 hours. Damn.  No belt buckle for me today.  Then I remember what Ken Chlouber had said at the pre-race meeting: “You can do more than you think you can do. “  Okay, Ken – even if there’s no belt buckle for me today I’ll still try to get my best possible time.  I will finish this ride.

I descended the Sugar Loaf, Hagerman, Carter Lake roads pretty quickly, but was now faced with the 2.5 mile 5% grade ascent to Carter Summit and the aid station. At least we were out of the wind, but the sun was still damned hot.  Half a mile from the aid station I drained the last of my water.  Well, if there’s no water at Carter my race is truly over. I rolled into Carter Summit aid station with 1:15 to go before the 12 hour cut off that decides who gets a belt buckle.  Now things get interesting. . .

After refilling my camelback and water bottle one of the volunteers told me, “you have an hour and ten minutes to finish under the 12 hour time limit.  You can do it, but you gotta GO!”  Really? “You can do more than you think you can do.”  Man, I REALLY wanted that belt buckle . . . but did I have anything left?

Time to go.  There were a series of short climbs to the summit of St. Kevin’s, and I rode most, and walked one.  I passed a lot of tired riders on these climbs.  Over the top to the 7 mile descent.  I hung it WAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY out there on that descent.  Way, WAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY out there. I joined up with two other riders on the way, and asked, “do you think we can make it?”  “Oh yeah,” one replied.  “Then let’s go!” We formed up a three-man pace line and rolled the long flat dirt road at 22 mph, rotating as we felt the need. 

Now there’s a slight difference to the race course.  Rather than returning up the road, we rolled ½ mile down the asphalt and onto a dirt road next to the railroad tracks, and for about a mile got bucked and thrown by deep potholes.  I almost got thrown over the bars at one point, but managed to get the bike down and stable and kept going.  I’m now riding third position in our pace line and I know what’s coming . . . The Boulevard. 

Between the dirt road and the finish line there is still 500 vertical feet of climbing over three miles.  It starts with a hard left turn onto a rocky 5% grade that goes on for about ½ mile before it levels to 3% and smoothes out into a passable dirt road. I yell to my pace line mates as we get to the turn, “downshift now!  Easiest gear!”  Too late.  They turned into the Boulevard in the wrong gear and all speed and momentum were lost.  It looked like we rode into the middle of an army in retreat.  There were 15-20 defeated riders all over the trail, pushing their bikes up the hill.  Uh uh . . . not me, baby.  I rode around them, past them, through them . . . hell, I may have even ridden over one or two of them . . . and climbed my way onto the smoother section of the Boulevard.  It’s still uphill, but it’s a kinder/gentler climb.  

I had ridden the Boulevard twice in training, both times at the end of a 4 hr ride.  The best I had managed climbing the Boulevard in practice was about 7 mph.  I was averaging between 9-10 mph on race day.  I hurt like I have never bloody hurt – my ribs, my back, and my stomach from trying to breathe – my hands were bruised from the long day.  Cadence up – power up – keep up the pace! There’s the end of the dirt road!   

Onto the asphalt for the finish line. “You have 8 minutes to a belt buckle!” shouted a volunteer. “Go!” The finish line is back up 6th street – uphill.  About halfway up the street I crossed a brief plateau that’s a cross-street, and I sagged a bit – I was empty.  “Don’t quit now!”  somebody yelled, “It’s RIGHT THERE!” so I kicked it up one more time.   

Two blocks to go – uphill. I heard Jan yell my name, and caught a glimpse of her, but I just kept pushing.  There was the red carpet . . . the finish line.  I can’t freakin’ breathe, but at some point, maybe 10 yards from the finish line I realized I was going to make the 12 hour cut off. I stood up in the pedals and yelled, with whatever I had left, and rolled over the finish line in 12:54. I stopped my bike, put my feet on the ground, put my head on my handlebars and literally sobbed trying to breathe. I lifted my head up long enough to tell the medic I was okay, and to have a volunteer hang a finisher’s medal around my neck, and then did a slow “Fred Flintstone” push to the exit.  Jan took my bike and we found a place in the grass and shade so I could sit down. For the next few hours I coughed like I had pneumonia as I cleared all of the dust from my lungs.  It had been a tough day.

A Few Final Thoughts

Okay, so if all of this sounds too dramatic, I apologize, but you really had to be there. I had trained for a 10:45 – 11:30 finish, but the cleat problem set me back. Tom asked me if I wore my belt buckle to work.  I told him, “hell no! It’s not an accessory – it’s a hard-earned trophy.”

Leadville retains much of the blue-collar feel of its start.  Ken Chlouber and Marilee make sure of that, and Lifetime Fitness assures everybody that it’s the atmosphere that makes this race special. For example, the first award they hand out on Sunday is to the very last person to finish under the 12-hr time limit.  It’s actually a prestigious award called, “The Last Ass Over the Pass.”  THAT’S Leadville. 

Imagine if you can – Ken Chlouber is a former Army Ranger.  After he leaves the Army he works as a down in the earth “mudding and mucking” miner. He gets laid off from the mine and sees his town is dying, so he starts a 100 mile running race to attract some attention.  Twenty years later he has seen it grow to several events, including one of the premier mountain biking events in the country.  Old houses are being refurbished and new houses are being built.  Main Street is short, but it has a spirit and personality all its own.  Ken is truly a class act. Ken made a point in the pre-race meeting, but I really didn't understand it until I finished the race.  Ken made the point that the race is about "us" - the riders.  All of the volunteers are focused on helping us get to the finish line on time. The TOWN, and the people in this town, are what make this race special, and they took very good care of us before, during, and after the race.  A special thanks to the volunteers at the Carter Summit aid station who helped me see beyond where I was to where I could be.

Statistics – over 6,000 people tried to get an entry for this year’s race. 1600 riders toed the start line, representing all 50 states and 15 other countries. 325 DNF’d (mechanical, medical, or missed the cutoff).  1,167 finished in under 12 hours. 

The level of athleticism in Leadville is unbelievable.  There is also a shared sense of accomplishment and spirit among all of the participants. I said about Ironman, “It’s not about the finish line – it’s about the people you meet on the way.”  Leadville is all of that, but to a different degree. If you race Leadville, you’ll meet a lot of people.  Somewhere out there on the course you’ll run into yourself.  If that doesn’t happen until the finish line you may not even recognize yourself when you pass. That’s Leadville.

The scenery - I wish I could take a camera and retrace the route, so you could see the race course the way I got to see it.  I didn't realize how high he had climbed until we crested a ridge and I could see for miles.  The lakes are turquoise blue, the sky is clear, the trees and fields are green.  It leaves you speechless (or maybe that's the altitude?). 

All that said, I still don’t know if I will ever try it again. It’s harder than anything I have ever attempted, but still, there’s something compelling about the race.  Did you know that if you finish the race 10 times they give you a “1,000 mile” belt buckle the size of a dinner plate? Hmmmm . . . .  That’s Leadville.


 Finally, saving the very best for last, I owe a huge thanks to my wife Jan.  She's an amazingly tolerant, patient, and supportive woman, and I love her. I honestly don't know how she puts up with me!  Thanks!

My Equipment:

Specialized Epic 29’er Comp – full suspension, aluminum frame.  I weighed 189 lbs on race day, and rode with the rebound settings at 3, front shock pressure at 130 lbs (both bottom and top), and 190 lbs of pressure in the rear shock.  Roval carbon fiber rims, with Specialized Fastrack LV Control tubeless tires, with 33 lbs in the rear tire and 32 lbs in the front (note: these tires are specc’d at 34 lbs minimum, but the mechanic at the Leadville bike shop recommended a lower pressure of 29/31.  I couldn’t get comfortable running that low).  These tires have held up beautifully during all my training and riding.  They don’t like mud at all, but on dry conditions they really hold the road.

Other stuff I carried – Rain jacket, replacement rear derailleur hanger, two extra chain links, a bike tool with a chain break included, two tire levers, eight inches of duct tape (wrapped around the frame) an extra tube and a can of Big Air, along with an inflator. I had an additional tire, tubes, and air cartridges in my drop bags at the aid station. Endurance mountain biking is unlike other road races.  There’s no sag wagon and no mechanic to help. In fact, it’s against the rules for anybody other than your race crew to help you with your equipment, and your race crew is limited to the aid stations. If it breaks, YOU fix it or your race is over. 

Nutrition:
According to my Polar 625, I burned 10,520 calories during the race.  I came close (very close) to bonking a couple of times during the race, but I managed to kick it out to the end.  

250-350 calories per hour, depending on what the course would allow.  Two Gu Roctane gels and a bottle of Gu Brew (that’s what was on the course) every hour, if I could manage it.  I found Gu Roctane is really (for me) a different gel.  According to Gu, they extracted the essential amino acids from protein, and supplemented their gel formula with those.  So you don’t have to digest the protein to get what you need.  They also changed the formula to help keep you awake and alert.  I trained with both regular gels and Roctane, testing both on long rides, and I really felt a noticeable difference with the Roctane,  particularly with regard to mental acuity.  I’m not a nutritionist, so I don’t know the science behind it, but this stuff REALLY made a difference for me, in a race where a momentary lapse in attention or judgment could ruin my day. I say, “if the course would allow” because the real truth about Leadville is “eat what you can, when you can.”   

Ordinarily I m not a fan of nutrition drinks – the mix can be unreliable, and it’s a lot of volume for not much nutrition.  However, when you’re in the middle of a 90 minute climb, where your heart rate is elevated, a few shots of 10-15 calories can make a HUGE difference.  Also 1-2 endurolytes every hour, depending on how I was feeling. Add to that a few potato chips and a couple of swallows of cola at the aid stations, and that was enough to get me to the finish line.

Hydration was “fill the camebak at every aid station and drink when you need to drink.”  Even at that, I ran out of water on the outbound leg two miles from the Pipeline aid station, and was down to my last ounce of water when I rolled into the Carter Summit aid station on the way back. Race veterans noted this was a particularly hot and dry day for Leadville.

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