“Another GLORIOUS morning” (For all you Hocus Pocus Fans)

Tent – covered in ice, grass – covered in ice, my lungs – I imagine they look like a Bing Crosby winter wonderland.  With my eyes and nose exposed from my sleeping bag its time to uncover the rest of my body.  I’m pretty sure I have some running on the agenda for today with a shotgun start on main street Leadville that waits for no one.

Mandatory gear check a the starting shoot.  Security blanket, gloves, hat, jacket.  Check.  The police caravan is set to lead us out of town, up what looks to be the asphalt version of hope pass, according to my quads.

The first 3 miles of today’s 24.5 are on the roads.  There is no time wasted with the lead pack of Yoann, Alaska Chad, the Gu Crew, and a few other usual suspects.  I settle in with the chase pack of flagstaff kids, Caleb and Tinder.

We exit off the roads onto the trails and the climbing begins.  With the run-able incline stretched for optimum viewing of the leaders ahead, you begin to see the mountain naturally dividing the climbers into single file with holes in formation.

We climb.  My hands pushing against my quads, like the motion of a steam powered ship engine from the 1920’s (think James Cameron Titanic) .  Hunched over, leaning into the hill, a balancing act with each step.  Saliva was dripping from my bottom lip like the water bottle in a hamsters cage.  I must remember to thank Sargent Amy Jarvis for those daily 3:37 pm dips at the office.  That arm power is coming in handy.

As we hit aid station 1 at mile 7.2 we are rewarded with everyone’s favorite course exclusive.  Long, flat, hot asphalt.  And so the single file line yet again appears.

Caleb and I hang a right back onto the trail, to, what else, climb some more.  Enclosed by the tall pines we settle into a pace.  Not before I catch my breath, Caleb, yet another flagstaff bad-ass, kicks it into another gear.  Having ran with Caleb last year, I have nightmares from this kids climbing legs.  A climber among-st the best.  For serious.

As Caleb pulls away I am reminded of this climb and this stage last year where the altitude consumed me.  I was having tunnel vision and the pines were swaying.  Low on oxygen and low on fuel, I was toast.  Not this year, no blurry vision for this 132 lb feather.  Happy to be cruising the trail with full sight, I flew through the second aid station at 14.2 miles.

With the major climbs of the day over, we were rewarded with a run through the valley.  Weaving through the single track in the low meadows, surrounded by unscathed mountains at a full 360, I couldn’t imagine another place i’d rather be.

At mile 1.5 we were met with the final aid station and a long, rolling 3 mile dirt road to the finish.  I dropped my elbows, put my head down, and began using rated-R language as motivation to pick up the pace and get through the headwind, hills, and far off horizon of the finish.

Greeted at the finish line by fuel, fluids, and a natural lake for an ice bath, the third stage was complete.  Camp Hale only steps away, is straight out of a national Geographic centerfold.  Nestled in the mountains, with winding waterways, I knew this was the place I could rest my legs and mind.