The Okay-est Masters Female Ultrarunner in SC Goes West...Again
- Shannon Howell
- Sep 1, 2019
- 13 min read
Here is raw insight into my relationship with the 100 mile distance.
The thing that I dislike the most is also the thing that I love the most.
The hard challenges that I face and having to make decisions on what to do with each challenge fascinates me.
Whether it's a mental or physical challenge, I am forced to make some kind of decision in order to face it head on.
I never know what will confront me.
The only constant is that I will be faced with something and it's going to come as a surprise.
This summer has been a dream come true. To have even one opportunity to head to the mountains out west is one thing, but two opportunities? It's still hard to believe that two weeks ago, I came back from arguably the most beautiful area of the USA; the mountains of my birth state of Colorado.
I have come to realize that it is difficult enough to train for two hundreds, but to plan for all the travel logistics takes the stress to a whole new level. Then, there was the thing I was most concerned about: loneliness. I was doing this all alone. There would be no one with me on this trip. There would be no one to feed other than myself. For eight days, I wouldn't welcome my husband and kids home after a day of flowriding or other activities. For most people, the lack of responsibilities and promise of relaxation are most welcome in their overwhelmingly busy lives. Thankfully, being alone is never "quiet" for me, and I love to study people and am keenly aware of the voices and sounds around me. As a matter of fact, I made note of many of the things people said along the way.
"This is our third time in Alaska!"
As I headed out of town on August 10, GSP (Greenville/Spartanburg International Airport) was bustling with travelers to Alaska. I overheard that they were headed there as a large group, many for their second or third time. I added Alaska to my bucket list, and later spoke with runners about which races to run (Fat Dog 120?).
"Leadville. Oh wow. That's up there! Good luck young lady."
I woke up from a two hour nap as we landed in Denver. The man sitting next to me started a conversation with me, and was surprised to hear that I, a woman from South Carolina, was going to be running the Leadville 100. As a lifelong resident of Denver, he admitted to having trouble when he traveled west into the higher elevations. This did not help my insecurities, but I listened to his tips on hydration and all the other same advice people had already given me on how to "survive" at altitude.
Don't get me wrong, I listen to people who have valuable advice! It's just that I was a week away from race day and I was ready to stop overthinking everything. To prepare for Leadville, I stepped up my proper nutrition. After speaking with an employee at Garners in Greenville, I added maca powder, rhodiola and beet powder to my everyday diet. I ran in the heat of the day and whenever it felt most humid. I had just run Bighorn in June and run a 50K two weeks before, so I was ready mentally and physically.
I took advantage of my two days in Denver to go for a nice hike/run in the Highlands Ranch area. It was a warm, perfect Sunday, and there were other runners, hikers, and mountain bikers on the trails. I took myself up to 7,300 feet and felt great.
On Monday the 12th, I drove to Leadville to spend the rest of my days. I spent the drive completely distracted by the beautiful scenery. Eventually, I made my way into town and totally expected to feel the altitude right away. I parked downtown near where the start line would be on the 17th, took deep breaths, and felt gratitude. Gratitude for safety, health, and for the fact that I had the privilege of getting to 10,200 feet in good spirits.
My first stop was to get a quick coffee at City on a Hill, my favorite coffee place during my trip. There were still people in the streets and in the restaurants who had spent the weekend in Leadville for the 100 mile mountain bike race.
I decided to go for my first run at 10k feet, and made my way to Turquoise Lake, along the race course. It was a perfect day, so why not? Plus, it was only a few blocks from my Airbnb, with views of the Sawatch Range. It felt surreal to be so close to Mount Massive and Mount Elbert, the highest peaks in the state of Colorado.
"If its hard...you may be discouraged on race day."
"Taper?"
"That's too much."
-Facebook people
Being pretty confident in my fitness, I agreed to join a group to start at the Willis Gulch trail head and hike up to 11k on Tuesday. However, this idea was met with a whole lot of discouragement from the Leadville participants Facebook page. I realized that it was my first time every being there, but I wanted to see more of the course! Also, we saw no harm in getting a feel for the higher elevation.
Verdict: I felt wonderful, and the trip was a great idea. Veronica, Sjaak, and Brian were great company. It was so nice to have people with whom to look forward to the upcoming weekend.
Later that day, I enjoyed a delicious dinner at Tennessee Pass with Lauren and John, both accomplished runners, as well as fantastic people. John gave us helpful tips, and had a way of putting us at ease when it came to running Leadville. If I had any nerves about the race, they were pretty much gone by the end of dinner.
"Take it really easy the first half of Leadville. Wait and see how your body responds."
-David Horton's dm back in June
In a way, it's sad that LT100 starts at 4am. The views of the Sawatch from the Boulevard and Turquoise Lake are spectacular in the daylight! When the gun went off, I immediately began concentrating on keeping my heart rate down. This was not the race to take chances, especially being unfamiliar with how the altitude could affect me later on in the race. I had over 24 hours of running/climbing ahead of me, and it was important for me to be conservative.
"I just took a big poop and now I'm starving!"
-guy after leaving May Queen aid station
Ok, so I hesitated to throw that quote in here, but here's the reality of running: we need to poop. As a matter of fact, my first mistake of the day was not stopping at a May Queen porta potty to do my business. I mean, all the big aid stations had them, because this is Leadville. The time was nearing 7am, so I was due, much like all the other runners around me. About a half hour after leaving May Queen, I was looking for the "perfect spot" off the side of the trail. Thankfully, I brought toilet paper!
me: "Wow, this feels like a lot of running so far."
John: "Well, yes, there's quite a bit in this race, but up ahead you'll need to be smart."
One of my favorite parts of the race is when we enter the Mount Massive Wilderness. It's rocky, but still pretty runnable. I loved this part inbound and in the dark as well. It's the part of the course that most resembles east coast trails, and I had fun hopping around. Unfortunately, another runner really hurt himself on a rock before I arrived. It sounded like he had a concussion, but I never found out if he was able to continue.
"Go team orange!"
-guy also wearing orange who high-fived me on Sugarloaf Pass (and why am I so bad with names?)
The first climb up Sugarloaf Pass is followed by a fun run down the infamous Powerline descent. This is a part of the course where I began to evaluate what kind of race this will really be on the dark inbound. Conclusion: it was going to be a long way back up. It went on for a while, and it was pretty steep at some points. It was on this long section that I met and talked to a bunch of people. It didn't take but five minutes to make connections with them, whether it was from running the same races in the past, or just having mutual friends. I would see these same runners for many of the following miles. Eventually, I arrived at the Outward Bound Aid Station, about 24 miles in.
The next several miles took me through the long, mostly flat portion of the course that had us going through fields and on the road that would take us to the Half Pipe AS and Mount Elbert Mini-Aid. As I already mentioned, Mount Elbert it the tallest peak in the Rockies. I remember thinking that I will definitely be returning here someday, and I'll be taking the trail up, up, up to the 14'er. I just have to.
"The weather up there is reported to be pretty perfect. You'll be back here well before dark, see you later, Shannon!"
-super kind and optimistic AS volunteer
"You don't have a crew? Or a pacer?"
-not as optimistic AS volunteer
Finally, it was time to descend into the biggest, busiest aid station I've ever seen: Twin Lakes. I had heard so much about this place, and I finally got to experience what the buzz was all about. It was so fun and crazy, with everyone's crews cheering on all the runners and giving high fives. I loved it!
It was here that I let the cat out of the bag and told my secret that I hadn't really told anyone so far that day. I was running crew-less and pacer-less. I was fully aware that having both was a huge advantage. I know what it's like to have them, but having them at Leadville is especially advantageous. More on that later. I was still able to get out of Twin Lakes rather quickly, because I stuck to my game plan of utilizing the volunteers and grabbing food on the go for the next section. I was mentally and physically ready for was to come, and I was excited!
Sometimes, I'm glad I can't remember long sections of a race. It's much better to zone out for a while, even if that means not being able to remember details for your future race report. This is what happened on my way up to Hope Pass. I remember two details: Jared Hazen coming towards our pack asking not to be congratulated (he DNF'd himself), and passing the waterfall where our group stopped along the way earlier in the week. The rest is a blur.
I do, however, remember arriving at Hope Pass and it utterly taking my breath away. I wanted so badly to stay and take in the scenery. I felt like I was on another planet. Also, I got to see all of the cute llamas I'd been told about. Anyway, after a few deep breaths at 12,600 feet, I began my long descent to the halfway point, Winfield. I DO remember this section. It was on the way to Winfield that I saw one of my female ultrarunning heros, Magda Boulet. I moved to the side of the trail and cheered her on as she went up with her pacer. A little while later, Cat Bradley. A bit after that, David Goggins. I had no idea he was running that day, and I just stared and smiled as he passed by. It was awesome to see these people and it was a nice distraction from the somewhat crazy and, at times, treacherous trail.
"Sorry! We don't have any pacers right now!"
-guy standing under the pacer tent
According to my psuedo-game plan, Winfield meant EAT. It was warm, and I knew I needed to take a few minutes before heading back up the trail, because the way back is harder and steeper. I saw so many runners sitting and saying that they were done for the day. I wish I could have said something inspiring to get them going again, except I was eating. Then, I needed to make potty stop #2. So much for "a few minutes."
"You want me to mule? How about some edibles?"
-6.5 feet tall Teddy from the Winfield AS
Well, I felt better and was finally ready to get out of there. As I was leaving, I was approached by a super nice, young guy named Teddy, whose runner was about two hours late for his estimated arrival. He asked if I wanted a pacer, and we agreed that if his runner came along , he would turn around and continue with him on to Winfield. In the meantime, Teddy did the thing that pacers are allowed to do at Leadville: mule. Earlier, I mentioned that having a pacer has advantages, and this is why. He took my heavy pack off my back and threw it over his tall frame. I felt ten pounds lighter. He gave me my nutrition and water when I needed them, and offered me things that are allowed in Colorado. I passed, and we set off toward toward the Continental Divide Trail.
Well, all good things must come to an end, and for me, that happened sooner than I had hoped. Except that sounds kind of selfish. Teddy's runner did show up, and Teddy went with him back to Winfield to help him get ready to hopefully get back on the course to head inbound. I don't know if his runner ever finished, but I really hope so.
"It's a mix of altitude, food, and all that jostling around."
-kind pacer carrying toilet paper
Not too far up the CDT, it happened again: potty break #3. I asked a runner and his pacer for some toilet paper, and she was kind enough to give me some. I'm never shy on the trails, so I asked, "Why do you suppose I'm having to go so often?" This question didn't seem to come as a surprise to her at all. I was getting pretty frustrated with my bowels at this point. People were puking and dry heaving along the course, and I was dealing with the other issue. Also, this was keeping me from continuing so that I could get back up to Hope Pass inbound, and in turn, quickly get back down the mountain toward Twin Lakes inbound. I wasn't exactly sure how I was doing with time, but I knew I was under 25 hour pace. I began to give up on sub-25, because the return was definitely going to be harder than outbound. Oh well. Press on, girl.
Just as I thought, I had new legs on the descent. I was pumped as I entered Twin Lakes again, and got help from the kind, optimistic volunteer from a few hours prior because I could easily take forever grabbing all the warm things for the rest of the trip inbound. I had even written myself a note for my drop bag that gave exact instructions on what to do, because this lady didn't need a repeat of Bighorn. I froze there, and I refused to take those chances again. After several minutes of getting my life together and grabbing food to go, I was out and preparing to climb Mount Elbert again.
"Now that's a power walk. Suck it losers."
-onlooker as I came through the alternate crewing area
Once again, I zoned out over the next couple hours. I remember going back and forth with some other runners, and eventually hearing music and voices. Then, I remembered that there was an alternate area where crews can park, and it's about half way between Half Pipe AS and Outward Bound. I also remembered that my least favorite part of the entire course was coming up. It was now dark, and it was time to get on the flat and frustrating roads and fields that led to Outward Bound.
OB was crazy busy, with what seemed like a thousand volunteers generously helping runners with their various issues. I took a few minutes to eat and replenish my food supply for the next section, and guess what? Bathroom stop #4! It was getting cold, I was tired, and going into a dark, warm space was not what I needed. The reality is, I walked into the porta potty and immediately felt like falling asleep. I remember shaking my head a few times to clear it of sleepy thoughts, finishing up, opening the door, and getting this rush of frigid air directly at my face. I frantically headed straight for the tent and asked for a buff, and in about a minute flat, a volunteer had one for me. I hadn't even checked to see if I still had mine from that morning, ha! My mind was scrambled, and I was so afraid that I would freeze like I did at Bighorn. I was afraid to let my friends down, especially Marty and Sergio, who had seen my struggle after my experience there. Sergio had texted me the night before LT100, telling me that I was a "very smart, strong, motivated runner." The last thing I wanted to do was prove otherwise. The next section of the race, the climb up Power Line, was going to take all the mental fortitude I had.
On the way up the next climb to Sugarloaf Pass, I knew I was on the brink of the coveted sub-25 hour finish. I felt completely at peace with how things were going. Here I was, in the middle of the night now, in decision making mode, repeatedly trying to decide if I should power hike or run. More often than not, I decided on hiking. Apparently, my power hike is pretty impressive! (Well, at least according to the guy from a bit earlier.)
"This is a safe place! Here, take a gem for later, it's going to help with your recovery."
-"Space Camp" volunteer
So there I was, at the home stretch. Well, kind of. I had really looked forward to the part of the race where I could start running downhill, or run at all, especially since my legs were still feeling pretty good. Problem was, I don't think my mind was working quite right after leaving the last AS. I had taken a shot of ginger ale and I drank a small cup of Coke, and the girl who had taken me by the arm to refill my water gave me a Floyd's of Leadville souvenir for later (THC free, of course!.) I left the AS and began the mostly runnable portion coming down from Sugarloaf. I ran-walked, and totally forgot that I had a small Fenix light that would have illuminated the way. I love that light, and still can't believe I forgot about it! At night, you often need a light that shines closer to the ground than a headlamp. It helps tremendously. My Fenix helped me be brave during Grindstone last year.
"You know, if you aim for 9-minute miles from here on out, you'll finish under 25 hours."
-super kind and optimistic pacer going up the Boulevard
From May Queen AS to the finish is only about thirteen miles, but like most hundred mile races, it feels like so much longer. You're told there is mostly downhill, but you find out that that is a total lie. I repeat: LIARS. It is true at Leadville, just like it's true at all the others. I really wanted the trip back around Turquoise Lake to be easier, but it wasn't. I wanted the trip up the Boulevard to be more than just power hiking, but it wasn't. I wanted to be warm and not feel like I as going to freeze on my way to the finish, but I wasn't. I came across a couple men monitoring the course as I headed up 36 in Leadville, and asked if I could use the warmth of the truck to put on my base layer, jacket, and buff because I was getting so cold. I was almost in tears at their kindness.
This brings me back to the beginning of this report. I knew I was going to face things I have and haven't faced before. I had to fight off the demon that's haunted me since Bighorn, and use wisdom, experience, and heart to fight him off. I had to pray, and have faith that God was faithfully working through the prayers of those who were praying during my short journey.
me: "I'm not running up this. What's the point? I'll get there eventually."
random kind guy on 6th street going up to the finish: "C'MON. I'LL RUN UP THERE WITH YOU."
I'm overwhelmed with the kindness and sacrifice of my husband, Ken, and my boys, Jackson and Jeffrey. On the day I ran Leadville, they all competed in the Flowriding National Championships in Gulf Shores, Alabama. I missed them terribly, and later found out that they all podiumed in their respective divisions. Mom did, too, in the 40-49 age group, and she got to stand on stage with her hero, Magda Boulet. It might have been an almost five hour difference in finishing time, but it was a privilege nonetheless.
