“Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forests and the streams Seeking grace in every step he takes His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake
And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky Talk to God and listen to the casual reply Rocky Mountain high”
When I completed Ouray 100 and was stuck in Montrose CO I had a really painful bladder infection, most likely from dehydration and the effects of extreme physical stress on the kidneys. I was in a tremendous amount of pain in my hotel room and was rundown the following week when Kevin and I were hanging out in Frisco Colorado hiking Mt Quandary and Mt Victoria. Still, I was feeling good enough to hike and a little sickness wasn't going to keep me from my mountains! Those were AMAZING experiences, the altitude, views, mountain goats, flowers, variety of minerals and rocks, companionship with a great friend, just an intoxicating experience! Salted caramel gu on apples, genius and delicious on the trail!
I was feeling pretty close to normal when we headed out to Leadville Colorado for one last hike before heading to Virginia. Driving over Fremont Pass and heading down into the Valley, seeing Mt Elbert and Hopes Pass off in the distance, my hunger for mountain adventure kicked in hard. I was afraid to mention to Kevin that I wanted to say an extra 2-3 days in Colorado and go run another 100 miler on the Leadville 100 course. Real quick. No biggie, just 2 quick overnight hikes alone through the Colorado wilderness, I promised it wouldn't be inconvenient. Hahaha.
We did a quick night hike to Bear Lake where we gazed at the most brilliant array of stars and the Perseid meteor shower mirrored in a high-altitude pond. I tried to get a decent night sleep. Kevin had to go ahead and get out of town, but I knew this was a course I could pull off on my own. I've left drop bags in the past and knew the course so well having done it with Jason and Hannah. I had a good idea what I would need and when. We hung out around Turquoise Lake so I could pack my drop bags and wrap up my race report, and then there I was, all alone in Colorado again.
I sat in the Leadville library for a short time, using their wifi and adding pics and posting my Ouray 100 report onto FB. I wasn't sure exactly when I was going to start, but at 5:30 felt Dexter say "time to go!" so I headed to Main Street in Leadville where I parked my car a few feet away from the Iconic sign that marks the street and the start line. I headed out at 6pm.
The afternoon sun was hot but already the cold mountain evening breezes had started to roll out of the high country as I ran down the road, onto the dirt backroads and along the rocky railway portion of the trail. My third time on this course, I know it pretty well. The weather was clear and dry this year so I was glad I didn't have to worry about any freak evening storms. The view of the mountains heading out to turquoise lake and around the lake itself are stunning in the evening. I took a comfortable pace, listened to my tunes and enjoyed the scenery. Kevin had fed me a massive steak, onions and raisin bread toast pre-race meal so I wasnt' hungry at all. I really didn't start even nibbling on food till almost 12 miles at the MayQueen campground.
I felt isolated. This was Wednesday evening and the trails were mostly deserted. It was kind of what I'd wanted. In an emotional funk, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. With Ouray behind me, it was time to start putting serious thought into my vision of my future. Things didn't look as hopeful as I imagined, and it was time for real self-talk. I wasn't scared going into the Colorado Mountains at night by myself. I'd spent enough time there I felt completely comfortable, it was more existential, that feeling of really, being all alone. Nobody to run with, crew, pace...in fact I was pretty much in the state alone now. Would it matter if I got lost or hurt, eaten by mountain lions or bears? The occasional text from Kevin checking on me made me happy someone might care if I actually died out there, lol.
Turquoise lake trail is beautiful and benign, though a bit rocky in places, it's very runnable on fresh legs. I thought, I'll be back on this trail in just a day and a half.
I hit my first drop bag at MayQueen just after dark and made a quick stop of it. I had budgeted each of three drop bags carefully with enough water, food and other supplies for two stops since the Leadville course is a 50 mile out and back. I carefully split what I had and made my way up the road to the Timberline trailhead and the first stretch of Colorado trail. The Milky Way was already lighting up the sky as I began the technical climb up the Colorado trail to Hagerman pass road, to take a left and continue my climb to the summit on Sugarloaf Mountain road to the summit at 12, 592 feet, (not a shabby climb!) before descending on the steep Powerline Rd. down into the Leadville valley.
I saw a pair of deer eyes here and there, but I played my music out loud and didn't see any other sign of person or animal. Already in the cold night I had underestimated how much water I needed and was thirsty. There were a few river crossings, but the bridges were high above the water so difficult to reach. The trail eventually comes out onto Hagerman where you get a few blissful miles of extremely well-maintained gravel-dirt road. There I was able to shut my headlamp down to the dimmest setting and run the gentle incline for a few miles staring at the Milky Way and seeing the occasional shooting star from the meteor shower. Happily, ¾ of the way up the road I noticed a clear cold trickle of a stream on the side of the road, so I was able to drink my fill and refill both of my bottles.
I was anxious about the private property signs I'd find up on the summit as I started nearing the famous Powerline descent. I knew nobody would notice or care that I was on private land in the middle of the night, but it was still a great relief to find the road through private land now allows public access. I descended Powerline carefully, still cautious about my knee which wasn't giving me any trouble thankfully. Crossing the valley from Sugarloaf to the foothills of Mt Elbert went quickly in the dark. I was sweaty from the comfortable temperatures earlier and the cold wind blowing across the valley floor chilled me. I made a quick stop at my drop bag along the roadside in the bushes, and felt like I was well prepared for the long night ahead, about a 13-14 mile stretch through the foothills. I was very thankfully I've learned to use the Gaia app because the mix of trails, Colorado, Continental Divide, Mt Elbert, Lilypad etc, made portions of that trail difficult to navigate with no flagging. It's a place I've gotten lost in the past, so I was happy for a fully charged phone and reliable map as I navigated through the woods overnight, reaching twin lakes at least an hour before dawn.
There's not much at twin lakes, which sits at the base of the climb to Hopes Pass. Just a few homes, a general store, a restaurant, a historic park, & a few little food stands. Before dawn it was a ghost town. I would have to carry about 25 miles worth of supplies and be prepared to climb about 7000 feet in those miles for the ascent, descent, and return trip up and over Hope Pass. I felt I had a sufficient number of calories. My phone was running low on battery, but I picked up a charger, grabbed my water and food supplies and headed towards the river. It was still dark out. I hoped to keep my feet dry, maybe take my shoes and socks off for the river crossing. I'd gotten cold overnight and while I never got hypothermic, I had put on a wool shirt, 2 coats and stuck a hot hands in my pack. For some reason I couldn't seem to warm up. I was glad the sun would be up in a few hrs. and thought the hike up to Hope would warm me up. I worked my way through the marshy trail to the river crossing. Some flooding turned it into a mess, so my feet were wet, and I was chilled again by the time I hit the river. I've crossed this river 4x in the past, so was prepared for the shock of water that would be a little over knee deep. Taking for granted that I'd experienced this river, I stepped out to cross, but this time the trail had taken me onto a different spot on the riverbank. It was still dark out, so I couldn't see exceptionally well. My first step into the river was over my knee and I thought...."uhoh, that's kindof deep." Instead of checking myself, I took another step and off a ledge I went! The swift water pushed me away from my footing and I found nothing beneath my feet, only water. As my pack and my coats and all my gear quickly flooded and soaked through and got heavy on my back, I suddenly found myself desperately attempting to tread water and swim holding my trekking poles. I mildly panicked. Do I swim back to shore or go across? The water pushed me out towards the middle so that made my decision for me. After a few minutes my feet hit the ground on the opposite shore from town. I was already chilled but now having been submerged to my neck in ice cold mountain water and pre dawn temps around 39 degrees, soaked to the skin, I knew I was in trouble. I had a quick and potentially life threatening decision to make. Unless I started moving quickly, I was going to suffer from hypothermia or worse. The town was dark and silent about a mile away, or the mountain stood in front of me, dark, cold and foreboding. A touch of sunlight just hitting the peaks made my decision for me. It would take me just as long to find help to warm up, as it would to hit the mountain and climb for my life. The first option would end my solo run, the second I had a chance to recover and finish my 100 miles. I knew the second was somewhat foolish, but I knew once I started climbing my body would start to warm up and I had a chance to make it to the morning sun at the mountain tops before I got hypothermia.
Out on the mountain midweek, there was no human being in sight. I tucked my wet freezing hands under my armpits, balancing my poles under my arm against my body, too cold to hold them, and charged up the ascent. It is roughly a 3 hour climb to Hopes Pass because it is so steep and rocky. About 6 miles, 4 of them climbing miles, with approx. 3200 feet of gain. The sun was in no hurry to summit the mountain itself, so the forest remained in pre-dawn cold darkness. Realizing I literally could die under these conditions, I climbed hard and I prayed hard. I felt desperate and wasn't sure what to do. It was too late to turn around but the morning warmth was elusive, still hours away, so I climbed and battle my slowly dropping body temperature. My pack and leg brace was heavy with water. I abandoned my soaking wet mittens and my knee brace. As I chased the sun up higher on the peaks, because I was nearing the tree line and the pass, the temperature outside kept getting colder instead of warmer. Finally the cold was reaching my core and I could feel it in my bones, sooo wet, sooo cold. I begged for guidance to survive this. I still had some phone charge, I hoped if I reached high enough altitude above the trees, I could potentially call for a rescue.
As I felt more desperate and my mind was getting fuzzy from the cold, I was suddenly hit with inspiration in very clear, concise instructions. *Find a spot out of the wind, strip off all your wet clothes. Put on your Mylar poncho.
Of course, I had my poncho. Everything was wet but not the plastic poncho in its baggie. I stopped behind a tree out of the wind and took off all my clothes except my shoes and socks and put on my $5 mylar poncho. It is sturdy, thick, and went down to my knees and past my elbows, I instantly felt warmer being out of my wet frozen clothes. I decided to put my merino wool shirt, though soaked, back on top over the poncho as an insulating layer, the wetness would be away from my skin, and then I put on my wet outer shell which was black. I lost my water bottle in the changing of clothes, luckily I had a small plastic meal replacement drink bottle I could still use, though it only held 8 oz. I began climbing again and the warmth reflected back to my body from the mylar took the chill out of my bones and about an hour later as I hit the chilly cold above the tree line, the sun finally hit me. Even though it was probably mid 30s temperature-wise, my wet black shell absorbed the suns rays and heat, and the jacket soon dried out and by the time I got to Hope Pass, I was warm and safe. Those were probably some of the scariest miles I have ever lived through during a 100 miler. I may have appeared to be all alone, but I definitely had divine guidance helping me get out of that pickle!!!
I was down to 20% on my phone. My charger from all appearances was totally ruined from being immersed in the river water. It was swollen in size and had no sign of life. I knew I would have no re-charge until probably 12-15 hours later. I sent Kevin, who had been keeping track of me via my tracker, a text to make sure he knew I was safe and that I would be out of touch all day and evening until I got to my drop back at mile 75. I was at roughly mile 46. No music, no contact with the outside world. I descended down the ridiculously steep, rugged and technical backside of Hope Pass into Winfield. I felt good. The morning sun warmed me up and I was soon hot. I stopped and changed out of my poncho and back into my wet clothes. I was sick of wearing a cold wet bra so I left it off, and I hung my wool shirt from my pack to hopefully dry in the sun as I ran. It was strange to see other runners and hikers slowly showing up on the trail. They had no idea the ordeal I'd just been through, and happily did not see my nude -under -poncho running. Haha.
The sun was solidly shining and soon I was baking in the sun. With my bottle only holding 8 oz of water, I had to stop at every creek and drink a bottle and refill, and soon in addition, pouring cold water over myself at every creek to cool off in the now blazing heat! The extreme temperature swing made me feel exhausted and when I reached Winfield, I realized trying to stay warm, I;d burned through all my calories. I had a 4-5 mile climb ahead back up Hope with 3-4k feet of vert. I started to feel desperate again. Hot, weak, low on calories, feeling woozy, over 50 miles into this run. Remembering a scripture from the Book of Mormon, I started praying somewhat desperately. Apologizing for my weaknesses, wishing I was a better disciple and a better example, asking the Lord to keep loving his troublesome daughter, that I would try to be better, these words from a prophet named Nephi came to my heart. “I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness”
I prayed for a miracle. I needed calories, moral support, and my phone charger to work. I knew the latter was an impossibility, but I still asked, and then I kept putting one foot in front of the other. About a mile up the climb, I found an unopened cola gel. I gulped it down, so grateful for calories, and started the ridiculously steep ascent.
Luckly there is a creek about every mile so I was able to keep cool once I hit the forest again. (the low side of Winfield is very exposed to the sun) I talked to a few other hikers who were likely out training for the actual Leadville 100 race and everyone was nice and friendly. I was creeping up the ascent. I got low again on calories and every step became difficult and my heart rate went through the roof. I had to hike about 10 steps, stop and sit down to rest to keep from passing out. I was very lightheaded and dizzy. I did that 10 step hike n rest pattern for about an hour. It was miserable and I thought I'd never reach the summit. I was in rough shape. Roughly a mile away from Hope Pass a female runner stopped to talk to me. She could tell I was suffering and started asking me questions about whatI was doing. I spilled my heart and I was sobbing, so exhaused and sick, and not knowing if I could even get to the pass let alone finish 100 miles. She was sooo kind. She took a picture of me with the beautiful mountains in the background, encouraged me, gave me half her water and made me eat one of her gels, a granola bar and some dates. We hugged and I thanked her with all my heart. The calories hit my bloodstream and I made fast work of the last mile and finally arrived at Hope Pass, feeling like I'd already run 100 miles! Miracle of miracles, for the heck of it, I tried plugging in my phone, and my phone charger began to charge my phone. I was stunned. Already one portal on my charger didn't work from getting a little rainwater in it last year. The fact it had been completely submerged in river water, but was now charging my phone was just mind blowing. I was able to call Kevin and let him know I was okay. Also got to take pics at the beautiful Hope Pass.
I was still out of calories and it was getting hotter, so I descended Hope as quickly as I could. When I got into the low valley I got completely murdered by mosquitos in the swampy areas. I was stinky and going too slow to outrun them. They feasted on me as I tried to run as fast as I could with my skin burning from bites. It was pure torture! Late afternoon, it was 85 degrees out with hot afternoon sun. I was low on supplies, so I went into the general store to try and refuel. Kevin had given me some cash to buy myself dinner at Twin Lakes, so I gathered about $30 worth of mosquito spray, allergy pills, chips, hand warmers, and a sandwich, thing I would need for the night ahead. The store clerk took pity on me and gave me a $5 discount and a free sandwich so I walked out fueled for the next 15 miles through the foothills to my drop bag on $20.
I was exhausted and hot climbing in the hot afternoon sun. I didn't have quite enough liquids but a creek came along every few miles where I could try to cool off and rehydrate. The working charger literally saved my 100 miler this portion of the course. Back to the confusing trails, I got lost a couple times not paying attention and taking wrong turns. I was able to get back on course quickly with Gaia. Once my phone reached about 75% my charger quit working, but it was enough to give me signal to call for help, moral support and to use my map to navigate the Mt Elbert foothills.
The deep water hole I fell into.
The afternoon was arduous. The 85-degree temps, partial direct sun, no wind, I was quickly feeling hot and dehydrated and it became a suffer-fest for about 3 hrs. waiting for the sun to dip behind the mountains. I had good signal on my phone so I checked Facebook a little, answered some messages, called Kevin and tried to just distract myself and slog out the miserable miles. I was overheated, dehydrated and whiny. I remembered in my bag I had a wet bra and shirt from the mornings dip in the river, so I changed my clothes again and the wet damp cold clothes helped cool me down for awhile.
I should have been drinking more but the ice-cold mountain water hurt my stomach to fill up on. I finally hit a river in the valley about ¾ a mile from my drop bag. I was so thirsty I couldn't wait to reach my supplies, I stopped and dunked myself, washing off all the salty sweat & cooling off and drinking as much as my stomach would hold from the river. I was afraid I'd get cold quickly, but it was still warm enough out, with the sun going down I finally had comfortable temperatures. I reached my drop bag with relief, got out my dry fresh charger, drank a ginger ale to settle my stomach, drank a couple meal drinks, took a sprite in my pack with calories like applesauce, granola bars, fruit leather, licorice, and the two giant bags of Fritos I'd bought on Kevins dime, and with relief and treated to a spectacular sunset, I began the last 25 miles of the run.
It didn't take long for the stars to come out, and I was treated again to incredible views of the milky way and the occasional shooting star as I made the long dusty, rocky climb back up the Powerline Road/trail to the summit of Sugarloaf mountain. I ate a can of cold soup, which hit the spot.
I had a big beautiful fox step out of the shadows and meet me. He stood quietly and watched me climb. It felt like a sign from Dexter, that he was with me and making sure I would be safe on this final stretch of my run. It felt like hours before I finally descended Sugarloaf, down the rocky road to the smooth gravel road under the milky way. The night was much warmer and I went from feeling comfortable to overheated. I started feeling like I was running a mild fever. My body was burning up, expecially my butt and thighs. Heat exhaustion was my guess. Being all alone on the mountain and knowing I had to cool off, I somewhat hilariously dropped my drawers and ran for a few miles, letting the cool mountain air bring down my body temperature a little bit. I probably appeared so odd but it was dark and I was alone, so survival was my focus. I finally hit the descent on the Colorado trail to MayQueen. I think that portion of the Leadville 100 course gets twice as technical while you do the out and back. It felt so rocky and took so long to navigate in the dark, I was miserable! Sometime in the middle of the night I finally arrived at my drop bag at MayQueen and resupplied for my final 12 miles!
The Turquoise Lake outbound trail miles come easily. On the back it feels like every step is rocky, slick, dusty, and painfully long. I went through periods of hot and cold flashes along this stretch. Taking my coat off and on, depending on what direction the wind was blowing. Not a soul was out, wee hours of the morning, I made my way around Turquoise Lake. I felt very grateful and fortunate that my stomach had been solid, and I really hadn't dealt with nausea or vomiting. I ran low on calories again and felt a little woozy. About the point I'd begin to worry, I found another unopened gel on the trail. It gave me the last bit of sugar I needed. As I got near the end of the trail, I was reminded about how the day before Kevin had arranged for me to meet a group of cross country female high school runners. They were out for a training camp, and he brought me around to meet them and give them a motivational speech about chasing their dreams, and not doubting their abilities. Talked to them about being strong brave women, telling them how I'd finished Ouray 100 and was heading out to do this solo 100. It was kind of a neat special treat to have this captive audience of teenage girls to talk to. Especially having daughters who won't speak to me. :( That really boosted my mood and my spirit.
I was so relieved knowing I was only about 6 miles from the finish of my 100 miler. All the hard miles were behind me and I just had to coast up some paved and gravel roads and I would complete my second difficult 100 miler in the Colorado mountains within 2 weeks. I turned my headlamp off the last 6 miles, cranked the tunes, talked to my Marines, looked at the Milky Way and shooting stars and just embraced the amazing gift I had in that moment, of presence, accomplishment, joy and peace. I felt Gods love as a father, understanding my heart and decisions, leading me gently to where He wants me to be, and letting me know that no matter what happens or where I am, I am never alone or without help.
I rolled into my “finish line,” the mural on the Leadville 100 street corner at exactly 4:00 am. 34 0001 hours jamming to Dragon Force, Highway to Oblivion. It was an epic fun victory mile with my Warriors. “Like a demon on wheels,
through the cursed blue mountains
Don't let a minute go by,
give it all 'til the end
On a one way street living in the fast lane
Feel the passion that runs through your veins
Faster with fury to the end of all our days...
A lifetime of dreaming
But don't ever stop believing
The passion, the fight deep inside
The power before me
Ascend to the edge of glory Tonight shooting far across the sky
Feel the power beyond red-line
Lost forever in space and time
Higher and higher, adrenalin surging
Wheels of fire will burn tonight
Leave the trials of life behind
Blasting on at the speed of light Tearing up the highway to oblivion”
I finished 6 hours faster than I completed the course last year, with a full crew and pacer. I collapsed on the ground by my car in the dark and let the tears slide off my cheeks and onto the sidewalk. Then without fanfare, climbed into my squishy disaster of a car and fell asleep, # 76 / 100 100's done for Dexter, Taylor, Jacob, Jake, Nate, Dillon, Morgan....and honestly, myself. Those Leadville mountains called to me, I had to answer, and we accomplished a somewhat brave, maybe foolish, but epic journey together. Post race snack, the last of my yummy Fritos.
After a hobo bath in a Dillon park bathroom I met my friend Pete at a McDonalds in Frisco. He bought me breakfast of two deluxe chicken sandwiches and a Carmel sundae and sent me off to Virginia with a fresh bottle of CBD oil for my knee. I am very happy to report that neither of my knees gave me any trouble during this 100! Pete is really handsome and very kind, and I hope I can meet back up with him when I go back to Colorado in September for # 78.
On the drive back to Virginia, it was a sweltering 95 degrees and I got hit out of the blue with a burning fever, possibly Covid, and a bladder infection. Every mile home was torture. I had to pull over constantly to try and sleep in the burning heat. I spent a few hours sleeping on picnic tables or on the ground at various gas stations along I-70. A 23 hr drive turned into a 48 hour ordeal. At one point I was so sick and it was so hot outside, I had to spend $100 just to stop for a few hours at a hotel to take a cold shower and sleep in a cold room to try and get my temperature down. I wanted to stay there for days, but even more I wanted to get home so I checked out of the hotel at 10pm and kept driving through the night. Stopping every 30-40 minutes to nap for 30-40 minutes. Praying I would get home safe. Kevin kept texting and calling to check on me. Hannah kept texting to check on me. She did all the paperwork to try and sign me up for free health insurance so that I could go to the doctors as soon as I got back to Virginia. When I finally pulled into Froggy Mountain after almost 48 hrs. on the road, I could barely walk into my cottage, I was so feverish. I stripped off everything to cool off and collapsed into bed.
The next 48 hrs are a total blur. I had a super-hot fever and knife stabbing headache. I couldn't walk to the bathroom or do anything to take care of myself. Kevin had gotten back to Froggy Mountain a few days before me, so he put on his caretaker hat and spent the next 24 hrs putting ice packs on my head and back, carrying me to the porta potty to use the bathroom and trying to get me to eat or drink. Finally after being completely helpless and miserable my fever broke. I sweated floods, soaking my blankets and sheets. I was supposed to run Eastern States 100 later in the week but realized I was too weak to attempt it. I didn't want to. Mentally that road trip and being sick broke me for a few days. I was happy to hear the race was cancelled because of a state of emergency in Pennsylvania, so I did not get what would have been my first ever DNS (Did Not Show) It's taken a week for the kidney/bladder thing to mostly resolve itself. I never did have to go to the dr's but I've been cramming down all the cranberry and vitamin c and fluids I can get. I think I picked up a virus on top of the 2 high altitude races and dehydration and it was just extra hard on my kidneys. I've had a nice full rest and am gearing up for a road trip to Wisconsin next weekend to attempt my 77th 100 miler at Midwest States 100, a run on the famous Ice Age trail.
It's so strange to be back in Virginia. It's like those 5 weeks in Colorado were a glorious dream. I have two buckles and a big pile of heart shaped rocks from Colorado summits, and hundreds of photographs to show I did in fact have a life altering experience and really, achieved a lot in both personal growth and athletic performance. Also a tremendous spiritual experience, being so close to the Divine in those mountains. I'm a different person. I feel healed. Though I have many unanswered questions about my future, unresolved things I wish were easy to navigate, dreams I know may never come true, I feel confident in a good future. I'm so grateful for the incredible support of friends, my daughter, and my Froggy Mountain family. I suppose amid the many races I have coming up in the next few months I need to add finding a job and maybe a dating life... I don't know. For now I'm enjoying the short rest between races, the cool air abd beauty of Galax, the brainstorming and planning for future races and development at Froggy Mountain, and hopefully making a more significant impact in my hope to raise awareness about veteran mental health.
I did have one other significant event. I reclaimed two of my Gotland lambs that I lost through my divorce, and now I'm raising a pair of black sheep at Froggy Mountain. It seems appropriate. We're going to train them to be little mobile aid station pack animals, lol. Toad and Lilly.
Always remembering, every run is for a purpose. For heroes who gave their all, and for a reminder of the struggles so many still live with.
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