Lessons from Leadville is a two year ordeal. It started with tagging Leadville as my dream race over 10 years ago and includes a dnf in 2021, and then crossing the finish line on 2022. There was over 15 years of experience working towards this race with two years of concentrated effort to prepare specifically for the challenges of this high altitude 100 mile run. To call it a "run" is a very generous description. There is a whole lot of walking in this race. You can learn more about Leadville here. Here's a great 6 minute Leadville highlight video from the Leadville Race Series.
In 2021 I wrote a race report which you can read below. The 2022 version is in the form of a video which you can watch here.
Here are a few of my favorite pictures from the 2022 edition. Click on the picture for a larger image. Even more pics can be found here.
In 2021 I wrote a race report which you can read below. The 2022 version is in the form of a video which you can watch here.
Here are a few of my favorite pictures from the 2022 edition. Click on the picture for a larger image. Even more pics can be found here.
2021
“Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” 1Cor13:7.
What’s love got to do with it?
Short answer: Everything.
Leadville is my bucket list race. It’s been on the list for over 10 years and I finally gathered the nerve to give it a shot. It’s one of the original hundreds in the US and starts and finishes in the Colorado town of Leadville, the highest incorporated city in the United States. The elevation is no joke for those of us that come from sea level (or 700 feet in WV.)
Leadville was my 50th race of 50k or longer with 48 finishes and one missed cut…. Leadville was my first missed cut.
I fell short of the finish and missed the 18 hour cutoff at mile 62. I left Winfield at mile 50 with 4 hours and 40 minutes to cover the 12 miles back up and over Hope Pass at 12,508 feet for the second time. I expected that section to take me 4 hours so I had ample time to get it done. Instead, it took me 6 hours with one mile of 46 minutes and another mile taking get this…… 1 hour and 22 minutes. That’s a long and miserable mile. Vomiting and dry heaving are time consuming. They also leave you calorie depleted. Those two miles derailed the run.
When asked what a long distance runner does for fun the answer could appropriately be, “Suffer”.
I had one enormous takeaway from Leadville and it’s this: Everyone likes a winner but we feel most loved in our failures and defeat.
I left the love. When you try enough hard things you’ll eventually fail. The failure here is simply not finishing the race. I wasn’t afraid of failing, it did hurt, but not as bad as quitting. That hurts the most and I have experience to prove it.
When the vomiting began I thought, good, my stomach is clearing and resetting. When the vomiting continued I thought, good, it’s about over. When the dry heaving continued I thought, not good, this isn’t stopping. When the time ticked by faster than the miles I thought, uh-oh, this is not working out the way I planned.
More people were watching than I expected, knew, or realized until after I was done. They were watching, hoping, cheering, wondering, and perhaps even living vicariously through me or, more likely, were really glad that they weren’t me.
What does love have to do with it?
The love of running, love for trails, love for creation, love for the Creator, His love for me….
The love of the lovely and talented Ann Marie.
The love of my kids.
The love of my family.
The love of friends.
It’s time to move on with the lessons of Leadville firmly planted in my heart, mind and soul.
The week after we returned from Leadville Ann Marie and I hosted our crew for dinner at our house and I prepared a few remarks for them. I thought I’d include those remarks as part of my race report.
The title of the remarks was, “It’s all Your Fault.”
It's All Your Fault
Yes, each of you, it’s all your fault. Each of you has responsibility in all of this and we’re going to get it out in the open. It’s all your fault that I may cry.
To my friend, Rob Akers, who once delivered a farewell speech entitled, "It's All Your Fault".... It's all your fault.
First, for those most at fault, my mom and dad. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here. None of us would be having this discussion. There would be no failures. There would also be no success. It’s all your fault that your combined genetic make up ended up in this.
Mom, it’s all your fault that you brought me in to this world. It’s also your fault that you labored and suffered for 18 hours with me and have reminded me of that fact constantly, even after 47 years. Somehow you transferred your ability to suffer along to me. Let’s face it, you’re most to blame. You’ve never carried through with your threat to shoot me in the leg and end this nonsense. You also prayed for me up and down and around those mountains and I suspect it was mostly that I would not die and would come home safely.
Dad, it’s all your fault that you did the virtual hope pass prayer run. That you timed your run at Red Creek with my second time up and over Hope Pass, that you encouraged me through prayer, that I was reminded through my struggle that at 79 years old you were still nurturing me as your son.
Apostle Paul, it’s all your fault. You wrote 1 Corinthians chapter 13 verse 7, “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance.” That verse was in the one year Bible on Friday, August 20th, the day before the race. Verse 7 became my verse for the next 48 hours. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. More on this later. Paul, it’s all your fault.
For all of you wives, it’s all your fault. You give us permission slips to do dumb things. Hollie and Julie, you gave Cody and Aaron permission to travel a million miles and all the way around the world for this. You smell us after runs, wash sweaty running clothes and put up with early bed times and early wake ups. You tolerate a series of texts before 5 am as we coordinate our runs. There are countless ways that you endure and support us at the same time. It’s all your fault.
Hollie, it’s all your fault. You took on the first week of school for Able and cared for a 6 year old and a six month old for 5 days by yourself. This was after doing the same thing just a few weeks earlier for the run at Cacapon. And now, you’ve expressed a desire to do your own trail run. Don’t you realize that this encourages our bad behavior even more so? Hollie, It’s all your fault.
Julie, you know better, so it’s all your fault. You are the tiny enforcer of rules to prevent dumb things. You let your guard down, gave Aaron permission, and therefore are an enabler. You’ve seen first hand the purging that can come from such things. Not to mention the cramping and the 911 calls. You’ve seen it all and you didn’t intervene. You let it happen. In fact, you’ve become complacent in this “ultra life” and will agree to trips to nice places in exchange for Aaron’s runs. It’s all your fault.
For Aaron, Cody and Jason, it’s all your fault. That’s what you get for being my friend. You don’t have to be and you can say no, but you don’t so, it’s all your fault. Long runs, hot runs, cold runs, early runs, night runs, fart runs, purge runs…. For all of the runs, it’s all your fault. When I say let’s start at 9pm, run a few hours and then tailgate with fried chicken you go along with it like it’s a good idea. You let yourself get talked in to 50ks and 40 miles and 12 hour races and two year plans. You have vomit mugs and packs that smell like chicken broth.
You continue to be among the rare few that I seek out to run with. You don’t have to do that. No matter what we talk about for hours, we’re safe and also held accountable. In a world where authentic friendship for men is so hard and practically non existent, we have it. We talk about Jesus, work, kids, wives, struggles, joys… it’s all on the table. It’s all your fault that you find this stuff to be fun and enjoyable and are willing to, once again, travel a million miles away, to support your friend. It’s all your fault that you put months in to your own preparation and planning for such a trip. That you took time away from home and work for me. That you hurt as much as I did that we, as a team, came up empty. You didn’t let me believe that I’d let you down…. Again. And it’s all your fault that when the opportunity comes up for next time, you’ll do it again. It’s also your fault that I would do it just as quickly for you.
To the original Team Purge and Move On, it’s all your fault. You made Rim to River a success and so much fun that it just made sense to do it again and to…. Try something harder. You crewed to perfection, spent hours waiting, endured punctured shins, numerous gaseous excretions and stayed up for more than 24 hours to see the operation to completion. It’s all your fault.
To Caroline and Charlie, it’s all your fault. It’s your fault that the final two uphill miles on the back side of Hope Pass took me 2 hours. When faced with the growing realization that time was slipping away faster than the miles I had a decision to make. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a decision because, love never gives up, never loses hope, is always faithful and endures through every circumstance. Love kept me moving. The decision to go the 3 miles downhill back to Winfield was the same as quitting. By the time I arrived at Winfield the 18 hours that were allotted to get back to Twin Lakes would not have expired, there was still time on the clock. So, the only real choice was up and over Hope Pass. I’ve quit before and I won’t do it again. Love never gives up. You may not understand it now, but as your daddy, and because I love you, I hope to model for you a love that never gives up, never loses hope, is always faithful and endures through every circumstance. I say all the time, it’s never just about the run. This was a run but the same applies to everything in life: school, sports, friendships, your relationship with Jesus and someday, your marriage. Practice doing the hard stuff to create a habit to last a lifetime. Caroline and Charlie, it’s all your fault.
To the lovely and talented Ann Marie, it’s definitely your fault. I’ll never capture all of the ways that it’s your fault, they are endless. Several years ago I admit that I described you as reluctantly supportive of these long races. I thought you were supportive but you would have been relieved if I had given it up. I know it broke your heart not to be in Leadville. You wanted nothing more than to be there to cheer at the crew spots, be the first to congratulate me at the finish or, in reality, to comfort me after a tough day that ended in cutoff. On Tuesday morning after we got home I could feel your love, support, sympathy and disappointment for me. It was all enourmously evident. I could hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch and believe it from your heart. You want what I want. I also want what you want. It’s all your fault.
The Leadville camp was your idea, you arranged our vacation, you flew operation purge and move on to the race, you held down fort Young, volleyball, football, and the first week of school. You hoped and prayed every minute. I know you did. And even now, you are not giving up on the dream. Soon we’ll have 28 years together and our covenant is stronger than ever. It’s all your fault.
To the God of the universe, with a sense of humor I might add, it’s all your fault. You display your glory in all of creation. You are made known in the heavens and the earth. So much of your awesome creation can only be witnessed by traveling on our own two feet and you’ve made mankind to accomplish such things. During the hours of long miles on the trails on my own you listen to me and you speak to me. You instruct me and give me ideas and insight. It’s our time together and I love it. It’s much of why I run. You are so evident in your creation to me that I can’t help but worship you.
You are a miracle worker. As time slipped away I kept taking steps up Hope Pass and hoped for a miracle. It would take a miracle to get back on track. Your word was stuck in my head: love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. What’s love got to do with it? You are a God of Love. I held out hope. I have felt your love and comfort since.
On Saturday, the sun set behind Hope Pass and I wasn’t supposed to be there according to my plans. I should have been halfway down the other side of the mountain. As the sun set, the moon took its place and appeared from behind the mountain. The moon was larger than I’d ever seen it. It was accompanied by a sky full of stars. It was magnificent. At the same time that I had this front row seat for your glorious creation, I was as weak and vulnerable as I can ever remember. You reminded me of my complete and total dependence on you. That I am indeed, weak and you are indeed, God. Running 62 miles might resemble strength to many. You reminded me that my only strength is in you. Your grace is sufficient for me, your strength is made perfect in my weakness. You delivered me off of the mountain without incident. I was late, but unharmed. Aaron and Cody waited patiently for me, thankfully.
Now, for each of you as we recount how it’s all your fault, I also say thank you and I love you. It’s all your fault that I love you.
Before long we’ll be off to the next big thing and once again, it’s all you fault.
To my friend, Rob Akers, who once delivered a farewell speech entitled, "It's All Your Fault".... It's all your fault.
First, for those most at fault, my mom and dad. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here. None of us would be having this discussion. There would be no failures. There would also be no success. It’s all your fault that your combined genetic make up ended up in this.
Mom, it’s all your fault that you brought me in to this world. It’s also your fault that you labored and suffered for 18 hours with me and have reminded me of that fact constantly, even after 47 years. Somehow you transferred your ability to suffer along to me. Let’s face it, you’re most to blame. You’ve never carried through with your threat to shoot me in the leg and end this nonsense. You also prayed for me up and down and around those mountains and I suspect it was mostly that I would not die and would come home safely.
Dad, it’s all your fault that you did the virtual hope pass prayer run. That you timed your run at Red Creek with my second time up and over Hope Pass, that you encouraged me through prayer, that I was reminded through my struggle that at 79 years old you were still nurturing me as your son.
Apostle Paul, it’s all your fault. You wrote 1 Corinthians chapter 13 verse 7, “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance.” That verse was in the one year Bible on Friday, August 20th, the day before the race. Verse 7 became my verse for the next 48 hours. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. More on this later. Paul, it’s all your fault.
For all of you wives, it’s all your fault. You give us permission slips to do dumb things. Hollie and Julie, you gave Cody and Aaron permission to travel a million miles and all the way around the world for this. You smell us after runs, wash sweaty running clothes and put up with early bed times and early wake ups. You tolerate a series of texts before 5 am as we coordinate our runs. There are countless ways that you endure and support us at the same time. It’s all your fault.
Hollie, it’s all your fault. You took on the first week of school for Able and cared for a 6 year old and a six month old for 5 days by yourself. This was after doing the same thing just a few weeks earlier for the run at Cacapon. And now, you’ve expressed a desire to do your own trail run. Don’t you realize that this encourages our bad behavior even more so? Hollie, It’s all your fault.
Julie, you know better, so it’s all your fault. You are the tiny enforcer of rules to prevent dumb things. You let your guard down, gave Aaron permission, and therefore are an enabler. You’ve seen first hand the purging that can come from such things. Not to mention the cramping and the 911 calls. You’ve seen it all and you didn’t intervene. You let it happen. In fact, you’ve become complacent in this “ultra life” and will agree to trips to nice places in exchange for Aaron’s runs. It’s all your fault.
For Aaron, Cody and Jason, it’s all your fault. That’s what you get for being my friend. You don’t have to be and you can say no, but you don’t so, it’s all your fault. Long runs, hot runs, cold runs, early runs, night runs, fart runs, purge runs…. For all of the runs, it’s all your fault. When I say let’s start at 9pm, run a few hours and then tailgate with fried chicken you go along with it like it’s a good idea. You let yourself get talked in to 50ks and 40 miles and 12 hour races and two year plans. You have vomit mugs and packs that smell like chicken broth.
You continue to be among the rare few that I seek out to run with. You don’t have to do that. No matter what we talk about for hours, we’re safe and also held accountable. In a world where authentic friendship for men is so hard and practically non existent, we have it. We talk about Jesus, work, kids, wives, struggles, joys… it’s all on the table. It’s all your fault that you find this stuff to be fun and enjoyable and are willing to, once again, travel a million miles away, to support your friend. It’s all your fault that you put months in to your own preparation and planning for such a trip. That you took time away from home and work for me. That you hurt as much as I did that we, as a team, came up empty. You didn’t let me believe that I’d let you down…. Again. And it’s all your fault that when the opportunity comes up for next time, you’ll do it again. It’s also your fault that I would do it just as quickly for you.
To the original Team Purge and Move On, it’s all your fault. You made Rim to River a success and so much fun that it just made sense to do it again and to…. Try something harder. You crewed to perfection, spent hours waiting, endured punctured shins, numerous gaseous excretions and stayed up for more than 24 hours to see the operation to completion. It’s all your fault.
To Caroline and Charlie, it’s all your fault. It’s your fault that the final two uphill miles on the back side of Hope Pass took me 2 hours. When faced with the growing realization that time was slipping away faster than the miles I had a decision to make. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a decision because, love never gives up, never loses hope, is always faithful and endures through every circumstance. Love kept me moving. The decision to go the 3 miles downhill back to Winfield was the same as quitting. By the time I arrived at Winfield the 18 hours that were allotted to get back to Twin Lakes would not have expired, there was still time on the clock. So, the only real choice was up and over Hope Pass. I’ve quit before and I won’t do it again. Love never gives up. You may not understand it now, but as your daddy, and because I love you, I hope to model for you a love that never gives up, never loses hope, is always faithful and endures through every circumstance. I say all the time, it’s never just about the run. This was a run but the same applies to everything in life: school, sports, friendships, your relationship with Jesus and someday, your marriage. Practice doing the hard stuff to create a habit to last a lifetime. Caroline and Charlie, it’s all your fault.
To the lovely and talented Ann Marie, it’s definitely your fault. I’ll never capture all of the ways that it’s your fault, they are endless. Several years ago I admit that I described you as reluctantly supportive of these long races. I thought you were supportive but you would have been relieved if I had given it up. I know it broke your heart not to be in Leadville. You wanted nothing more than to be there to cheer at the crew spots, be the first to congratulate me at the finish or, in reality, to comfort me after a tough day that ended in cutoff. On Tuesday morning after we got home I could feel your love, support, sympathy and disappointment for me. It was all enourmously evident. I could hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch and believe it from your heart. You want what I want. I also want what you want. It’s all your fault.
The Leadville camp was your idea, you arranged our vacation, you flew operation purge and move on to the race, you held down fort Young, volleyball, football, and the first week of school. You hoped and prayed every minute. I know you did. And even now, you are not giving up on the dream. Soon we’ll have 28 years together and our covenant is stronger than ever. It’s all your fault.
To the God of the universe, with a sense of humor I might add, it’s all your fault. You display your glory in all of creation. You are made known in the heavens and the earth. So much of your awesome creation can only be witnessed by traveling on our own two feet and you’ve made mankind to accomplish such things. During the hours of long miles on the trails on my own you listen to me and you speak to me. You instruct me and give me ideas and insight. It’s our time together and I love it. It’s much of why I run. You are so evident in your creation to me that I can’t help but worship you.
You are a miracle worker. As time slipped away I kept taking steps up Hope Pass and hoped for a miracle. It would take a miracle to get back on track. Your word was stuck in my head: love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. What’s love got to do with it? You are a God of Love. I held out hope. I have felt your love and comfort since.
On Saturday, the sun set behind Hope Pass and I wasn’t supposed to be there according to my plans. I should have been halfway down the other side of the mountain. As the sun set, the moon took its place and appeared from behind the mountain. The moon was larger than I’d ever seen it. It was accompanied by a sky full of stars. It was magnificent. At the same time that I had this front row seat for your glorious creation, I was as weak and vulnerable as I can ever remember. You reminded me of my complete and total dependence on you. That I am indeed, weak and you are indeed, God. Running 62 miles might resemble strength to many. You reminded me that my only strength is in you. Your grace is sufficient for me, your strength is made perfect in my weakness. You delivered me off of the mountain without incident. I was late, but unharmed. Aaron and Cody waited patiently for me, thankfully.
Now, for each of you as we recount how it’s all your fault, I also say thank you and I love you. It’s all your fault that I love you.
Before long we’ll be off to the next big thing and once again, it’s all you fault.