Leadville Trail 100

One of the first videos that got me into ultra running was called THE WHY | Running 100 Miles by Billy Yang. In it, Billy runs the Leadville 100 — one of the most iconic ultramarathons in the world. 100 miles is a physical feat, there's no doubt about that. But Billy's video captured the emotional side in a way I had never experienced, and just made me wonder what it is like to experience something of that immensity. Some day.

It was only fitting that, 9 years later, as I toed the start line for my own attempt at the Leadville 100, I saw Billy standing there, out crewing for another runner.

My first 100 miler was the Run Rabbit Run 100 in 2024. This race was a mess to say the least. I finished, but that was about all I did (in all fairness, my only goal for this race was to finish). I spent 2 days and one night out, suffered for 35 hours 21 minutes, and crossed the line merely 39 minutes before the cutoff. I couldn't stand after, could barely walk for a few days, but I had my first belt buckle and taste of the 100 mile distance.

This experience was bad enough that I didn't sign up for another 100 for 2 years. I settled for some road marathons (3) and ultramarathons varying from the 50k-100k distance (7) during this time, but was too nervous/scared to sign up for another 100 miler. But it was time to come back.

When I first did Run Rabbit Run, I actually started with the 50 mile race the year before. My first 50, about 9 months after a stress fracture in my shin. The 100 barely overlaps with the 50 at all, and both were grueling. Mirroring my experience at Run Rabbit Run, I ran the Leadville Silver Rush 50 last year, and now was coming back for the belt buckle.

Leadville is a pretty special place. It sits between a slew of ski towns, including Vail, Aspen, and Breckenridge. These towns all have ski money, shiny edges, ice cream shops, stores selling t-shirts with the town name, etc. Leadville not so much. Leadville is the highest incorporated city in the United States at 10,152 ft. It has a population of 2,633 and is an old mining town.

When the molybdenum market collapsed at the start of the 80s, the Climax mine started cutting production and laying men off, and in September 1982 it stopped producing altogether. So did most of Leadville. Mining employment in the county fell from over 3,100 to a couple hundred, Lake County lost nearly a third of its population in two years, and school enrollment halved. Miners left, along with them left the town's economic prosperity. That was until Ken Chlouber and Merilee Maupin founded the Leadville Trail 100 Run in 1983, with the idea that it would bring much needed tourism to Leadville. At the time there was only one other 100 mile race in the world, the Western States Endurance Run, so this was quite the idea. Remarkably, it worked.

Leadville is now one of the classic ultramarathons, bringing upward of 700 people to the small town every year in August as the cap for the Leadville Race Series. The course is historically a true out and back, and traverses from Leadville out to Twin Lakes, over Hope Pass (12,509 ft), dropping down into the ghost town of Winfield, before turning right around and retracing your steps back to Leadville.

Leadville 2026 though had a slightly different taste. Due to the Willow fire in June and July, the course early on had to be rerouted from the true out and back. The loop around Turquoise Lake and the Powerline climb were modified to avoid the burn area, although from Outward Bound (mile ~26) to Winfield the course remained the same. The changes resulted in ~500 feet less of elevation gain, and a handful more miles on the road, but the allure of Leadville still stayed the same.

Getting into the Leadville 100 is notoriously hard. After applying for the lottery 3 years in a row and missing all 3, this year I decided to run with a charity and got a bib through the Life Time Foundation.

Preparation

After running the 50 last year, my biggest takeaway was that I needed to come out for the race earlier this year, and I did just that coming a week before and staying in Breckenridge with my dad, before moving out to Leadville on the Thursday before the race.

This week was relatively chill with my dad. We ate some good food, did a little course recon, and had a lot of coffee while exploring the area. I hadn't spent any time in Breckenridge (except apparently as a baby) so it was nice to explore the town while relaxing before the race.

This week however was brutal elevation-wise. Living in New York City, going to 10,000 feet is no joke. The air is thinner, sleeping is more difficult, headaches, out of breath running 9:30 pace — I just kept catching myself thinking... I'm supposed to run 100 miles in this? But I guess that's what the week was for. Though my sleep never got better (it actually got worse over the week), I showed up to the start line feeling 85-90% acclimatized. Definitely not fully there, but so much better.

This year for crew, I had the best team. From Half Dome last year to Kilimanjaro later this year, Sadie, Brooks and I have been on a few adventures.

In addition to my crew, other changes I made for this race were in preparation. I ran the most miles I've ever run, having 6 out of 7 weeks in a row over 70 miles with a peak week at 88 miles (including 63 in 3 days... with 10 on Friday, 33 on Saturday, and 20 on Sunday). I also did more vert than ever, averaging around 7,000 ft during these weeks via a mixture of incline treadmill sessions and trails. I also didn't skimp on gear for Leadville. I added a second pair of trail shoes, a Raide 2L belt in addition to my pack, a new headlamp, etc. All of these had a bigger impact than anticipated on my race and I think I was pretty glad I made all of those changes.

One other big change I made for this race was my hair. Before last 100, I was thinking of buzzing my head, but chickened out. I was dangerously close to the same fate this year but decided fuck it. If nothing else I'll be more aerodynamic.

The final big change going in was nutrition. From my ultras over the past few years, I learned that gels go down a lot easier than food, and carb mix in my bottles was a big winner too. I didn't have an exact plan, but was roughly targeting 75-90g of carbs per hour and 500mg of electrolytes per hour, mostly in the form of 1 40-50g gel + 30-45g in a 500ml soft flask / hour. I stayed remarkably on track for these goals, though was probably a little low on electrolytes especially in the morning (which I paid for a bit).

I spent a lot more time prepping my crew for splits, what I needed at each location in terms of gear + calories, drop bags, etc. Sadie took my plan and ran with it too. According to her (newly acquired) Garmin, her heart rate was over 115 for some of the crew spots when I was coming in, so to say she was stressed about things going right was probably an understatement.

She nailed it though. Crew stops were swift. Everything was organized. Whenever I made pivots live — a different shirt, I need this — it was always right there a second later. Couldn't have been much better.

Pre Race

The day before the race we went to the race briefing, outside on the high school football field. A pretty stunning backdrop for a briefing. We got the usual spiels, race director warnings, a walkthrough of the course reroute, etc.

Then they handed it over to the original race founders: Ken Chlouber and Merilee O'Neal.

This was emotional. Leadville's been through a lot this year. With very little snow in the Rockies, Leadville had a drought early in the season. This contributed to the fires in June and July, doubling the stress on the town. Ken also had multiple back surgeries this year that were tough. You could tell it had taken its toll on them and the town as a whole. They live for this race, and were just so excited it was still going on.

Towards the end, we got one of the things I had seen in videos and was looking forward to. Ken Chlouber makes everyone stand and say "I commit, I won't quit." Goosebumps. I commit. I'm definitely not going to quit.

It is funny looking back that the race had <60% finish rate.

We head over to the bib pickup. I run into Isaac and Samantha and we say hi and chat for a bit. I met them in Tokyo on a shakeout run before the Tokyo Marathon. We stayed in touch, and now we're here in Leadville for the 100. Crazy. It's a small world sometimes.

I get my bib. Bib 116. Nice. (I actually ended up finishing the race in 116th place overall. Surely I'm the only person to finish in their bib place.) We get some pictures under the start/finish line. I can't wait to recreate this picture with a belt buckle instead of a bib.

Some pasta for dinner. Some race prep and walkthrough on gear with the crew. What I want where, how to fill bottles, what to expect in certain parts. What not to forget while pacing. Don't forget my poles before Hope Pass.

Pretty soon it's time for bed. Man, I'm nervous. It's Leadville day. Been planning this for 10 months. Been thinking about this for 8 years. That's crazy. It's finally here.

The Race

Leadville starts at 4am. You have to take a shuttle to the start line from the parking lot, so we were planning to leave at 3am, which meant a 1:45am wakeup for me. Ouch.

I didn't sleep very well the week before the race. Some combination of uncomfortable beds and the altitude meant I wasn't exactly well rested. That was topped off by a 4 hour night of sleep the night before the race despite trying to go to bed around 7pm. My resting HR was elevated all week, HRV down, and I was definitely feeling it a bit going in. That being said... nothing I could do.

The usual routine in the morning for me. Coffee, some toast with jam and a banana, bathroom, shower, get dressed. All went pretty smoothly. Pre race jitters were definitely there, but nothing to do now except get started. We made our way to the start line, and it definitely wasn't as cold as I was expecting (maybe a theme throughout the day?). I ditched my beanie and jacket before the race, opting for a long sleeve, half tights, and gloves which I took off shortly after the start too.

Next thing I knew it was time for the national anthem, another inspirational speech from Ken Chlouber, and boom. The gun went off. Wow this is it. I'm running the Leadville 100.

The first section to Carter Summit was about as smooth going as you could imagine. The first ~5k or so was a steady downhill on roads, before we started a gentle climb on a fire road and a bit of a kick up to Carter Summit.

My only goal for this section was to stay as in control as possible. Keep the effort low but moving swiftly at the same time. I struck up conversation with a handful of people during this section, and we were just chilling. It was cool, dark, and the headlamps of 700 runners were bouncing both in front and behind me. Finally the sun came up in this section, illuminating the trail just enough that we could get by without headlamps.

Before I knew it we hit Carter Summit, 10 miles in. This was a mad scramble to get water. So many people were here and it was a zoo. I quickly added some Tailwind high carb to my front bottles, topped off with water, and got out of there.

Apparently later on they ran out of water at Carter Summit — Ouch. Going the first 20 without a refill would've been bad news.

From Carter Summit, it was another 5k descent on a road down to the lake. On the lake it turned into single track, and was rolling all the way to Turquoise Lake Dam.

This section was about as painless as the first one, although I did get caught in some big groups of 10-15+ people and stuck in single track trains. We were moving decently so I didn't mind holding back a bit, but still not super ideal.

This section dragged on a bit but it was early enough it didn't feel like that big of a deal. Slowly we made our way around the lake, but had some spectacular views while we were at it.

Before I knew it we were at the Dam aid station.

From the Dam, we come off a quick steep descent, on a fire road for a mile or so then another 5ish on roads looping around to Outward Bound. This section early on I reconnected with Craig, a friend I had met in the first stretch of this race. Craig and I ran this whole section together and had a good chat about life, New England trails, family, and more. Craig you legend!

This stretch was one of those that kinda just disappeared. Only 6 miles and my focus quickly switched to what I needed at Outward Bound, the first crew aid station.

Coming into Outward Bound was one of the coolest things I've ever experienced. From 3 miles away you can see the enormity of the aid station. Hundreds of cars, dust kicked up as they're parking on the grassy field. Tents as far as the eye can see, and people 10 deep for over a quarter mile.

I came rolling into Outward Bound and found Brooks pretty quickly. He then guided me to Sadie and it was gametime. I ditched my gloves, headlamp, and long sleeve shirt. Swapped my empty bottles for full ones. Threw on a cutoff shirt as it had gotten hot already. Grabbed my hat, sunglasses. Sadie put on some sunscreen. A quick picture. And I was out.

This was a theme throughout the day — barring Twin Lakes — my aid station stops were super efficient. Even though this was a crew one I was in and out in probably about 2 minutes.

The next stretch was ~6 miles, broken into two 3 mile sections - one to Pipeline and then the other to Half Pipe.

The section to Pipeline was pretty chill. About a km in the meadow out of Outward Bound, followed by maybe 2 miles on roads traversing over, before another km or so on a fire road up to Pipeline. Pipeline is a long row of cars/trees along a fire road. This section has no official aid station, but is an open crewing section and thus there was a lot of support and crews there.

I was feeling good and told Brooks and Sadie to skip Pipeline and I'll see them at Twin Lakes.

Through Pipeline, the trail continued to roll, pretty chill with slight uphills for about 3 more miles. I was pretty alone through this section, but had people around in front and behind. I started walking a bit in here as it was getting hot and there were a few punchy climbs, but was still rolling well into Half Pipe.

Half Pipe is around mile 32, a bit over 50km. This first 50k I only had 3 miles over 13 minutes despite over 2,700 ft of climbing, and split around 5:43 (or 11:04 minute pace). This was ballpark where I was expecting, but was a bit more running than I had anticipated this early on in the race.

Half Pipe I had a drop bag - grabbed it quickly, refilled my bottles with Tailwind high carb, and again was out relatively quickly for the 8.7 mile stretch to Twin Lakes.

The section down to Twin Lakes was a drag.

This was the first part that started playing some mental tricks on me. It was super hot despite being early in the morning still. I was a bit behind on my electrolytes already (although carbs and all were still good), and it was a gradual climb for the first 5-6 miles out of Half Pipe. My splits here slowed to 13-14 min, and I definitely felt the miles stretching out and the heat coming in. I stopped at a few spots to dunk my hat in rivers where I could and boy was that nice. During one of the steeper climbs during this section, I saw someone walking backwards on the trail with a bib. I asked him if he was ok or needed anything, and he said he pulled his hamstring.

The first DNF I had seen.

We crossed a bridge over a small river, and started the 3 mile descent to Twin Lakes. I was excited to get to Twin Lakes, but didn't anticipate this descent to be such a grind. I ended up in the back of a ~10-12 person train, and although the pace was ok, I was just eating dust. The trail was very soft and loose dirt and the dust was getting kicked up like crazy. It was also getting into my shoes and socks and I felt a few blisters coming on. Not ideal. We were going roughly the pace I wanted to and felt good at, and with it being single track it was almost impossible to get around such a big group.

Just get me to Twin Lakes.

Finally about a half mile out we could hear the sounds of Twin Lakes. We got off single track onto a fire road for the last bit of the descent, before a quick climb and steep drop into the town.

What a cool aid station again! The whole town (there's not much) was lined with tents, people, and cameras. I came running in and once again found Brooks and Sadie, and we went over to the Life Time Foundation tent which they nicely provided for the foundation runners. Matt (legend!) the head of the Life Time Foundation was there and helping out.

I had planned on Twin Lakes being one of my longer stops (10-12 minutes) and think I nailed that. I felt decently rough when I came in here. I think the stretch from Half Pipe to Twin Lakes outbound was one of the hardest stretches of the race, and just much harder than anticipated. I took a quick cry when I sat down here, a nice little mental reset (lol). I got my shirt changed, pack reloaded with water and carb mix. Trash out, gels in. Had some snacks, got some lube, and geared myself up for the crux of the race.

I had one big mission at this stop: don't forget my poles, headlamp, or rain jacket. (During Billy's running of Leadville, he forgot his jacket going up Hope Pass and got drenched on his way over. I wasn't gonna make that mistake). Sadie nailed this one!

This was my only major regret of the race - I knew I had some blisters and my feet weren't in the best of shape with all the dust and everything heading into Twin Lakes outbound, but for some reason I decided not to change my socks and address my feet here. In the end it wasn't the end of the world, but it definitely cost me some time in Winfield and some pain towards the end of the race.

I threw on an ice bandana, some ice in my hat, and before I knew it I was on my way out.

Running through Twin Lakes out was one of the coolest spots of the race. So many people cheering and yelling, and I even ran into Samantha on the way out!

Leadville can roughly be broken into 3 sections (and they can be seen pretty clearly on the elevation map above):

1. The start to Twin Lakes
2. Over Hope Pass, to Winfield, back over Hope Pass
3. And then Twin Lakes to the end

I had completed part one, but now it was time for the hardest section and the one everyone dreads: Hope Pass.

Hope Pass looms over Leadville. The whole race you can see it in the distance, knowing you've not only got to get there but you've got to get over it, twice. Even from Twin Lakes it seems impossibly far away. But here we go.

The weekend before I made my dad drive out to Twin Lakes and ran the first ~3.5 miles from the town up the climb and back down, so I ~roughly~ knew what to expect heading in at least the front side, but I had heard the back side was much steeper and harder than the front. Yikes.

One step at a time.

I ran out of Twin Lakes feeling pretty good. It's about ~1.8 miles to the start of the climb and I cruised along, through the river crossing, and over to the base of it.

I've found recently that I do better with time than with miles. I knew this climb was going to take me about 105 minutes. An hour 45. I can lock in for an hour 45. Just another incline treadmill session.

The climb came around mile 42. Lots of race to go. I wanted to push, but also not kill myself. We did have to do this twice after all.

I settled into a steady groove and got climbing, poles out for the first time on the course. I probably passed 2.5 people for every one that passed me on the climb. Not bad for a lowlander. Before I knew it I was above the point I got to the weekend before, about 1.7 miles into the climb.

Then we were above the treeline.

This is what everyone was making a fuss about?

Somewhere in this stretch I saw the first person coming the opposite way, absolutely ROLLING down the trail. Adrian Macdonald — the race leader.

Wow. He's way ahead of me.

I kept on moving up. For a long time. Finally second, third, and fourth came through, maybe 20 minutes behind the leader. Sheesh. What a beast. Sheesh. All those guys are beasts.

Pretty quickly I heard some cowbells and we were at the Hopeless aid station, about 0.75 miles below the summit. This aid station is supplied by burros and some legendary volunteers.

A 3 minute stop here to refill my bottles with high carb and grab a bite, and we were off.

This stretch was pretty close to the top, and had very few spectators — maybe 5-6 in total from the aid station up to the summit. I was super locked in through this section. Head down, headphones in, just grinding away at the climb. I subconsciously noticed a spectator coming down the trail, but assumed they would get out of my way as I was climbing. They did.

As I'm passing them, I hear "Hamilton Evans???"

What?? Talk about things I didn't expect. To add to my confusion, I look up and I see someone I've never seen before.

Is this a prank?

Nope. It's Grady Morrissey, one of my brother's cross country teammates from high school. I'm sure I've met Grady at some point, but it's easily been at least 10 years. Grady was out supporting some of his friends, saw my name on the start list, and texted Seb that morning. Then not only was he up high on Hope Pass, but he happened to recognize me!

He hopped in for a few minutes of climbing as we chatted briefly. So fun.

Switchback, switchback, switchback. Finally a straight shot to nothing.

Summit #1. Woah, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

The descent off the back was a nice break. I was still feeling super good and rolled a lot of it, passing a good number of people on the way down. It was MUCH steeper than the front side. I didn't want to beat my quads up too badly with as much race as I had left, but on a descent like that there's not really another option — even walking it would thrash your legs. So I sent it.

The back of Hope Pass is stunning. One of the prettiest places I've ever seen. Massive mountains line the valley on both sides, and a few thousand feet below the trail sits this backcountry basin. Somewhere down there, Winfield...

Trying not to think about the fact that I'd be climbing back up all of this in a couple hours, I just enjoyed rolling it down. Another 6-8 people came past me heading up during this stretch. I wonder if I'll see Isaac soon. About 3 minutes later, there he was. A quick stop for a hug and a go get 'em, and Isaac was back on his way up. Some quick mental math told me he was about 9 miles ahead of me on the trail — 4.5 down to Winfield and 4.5 back. Damn, he's flying. A mile or two later I found myself close to the valley floor, taking a right turn to traverse over to Winfield.

High up on the pass it had been very cool. Down in the valley it was probably 20 degrees warmer, muggy, with rain hanging out in the distance. I was sweating a lot, trying to regroup myself for the second climb, and traversing for much longer than I'd anticipated.

Like the stretch down into Twin Lakes, this was another part of the course that was harder than I'd thought it would be. My expectations for Hope Pass had been so high that I felt adequately mentally prepared for it. The rolling miles over to Winfield (and back) I was not — I hadn't given them anywhere near the credit they deserved. Maybe I need to work on these mindless rolling sections that go on for miles.

Somewhere in here my watch buzzed, and I looked down to see 50.

Woah. Halfway there. 11:13:16.

Damn. That's not bad at all. Could I actually run sub 25? There's a long way to go, but a 13:45 second 50 seems... reasonable? No. Let's stay here. Just get to Winfield. Then focus on the second climb. Lots of race to go.

Finally the flow of inbound runners seemed to increase, and I figured I was getting close to Winfield. It definitely felt like we were closer to "civilization" at least. Some kids were handing out pink lemonade. Wow, that was so good. A quarter mile further, then a right, a left, and Winfield.

I REALLY wanted Winfield to be a quick stop. I was prepared to just fill my bottles with high carb, grab some more water, and bounce out. But my feet had been getting worse, not better. I could feel at least 3 blisters, and moving downhill especially they were causing me some discomfort. With at least 4 hours before I'd be at another legit aid station, and the second Hope Pass ascent and descent looming, I figured now was the time to deal with this. I went to the med tent to get my feet looked at.

I was hoping they'd pop my blisters, throw some bandaids on, tape over them and send me on my way. The medics didn't think they were big enough to be popped though, and opted for just taping them directly with KT tape. Sure. Just get me in and out ASAP.

While I was sitting in the med tent getting my feet taped, another runner came in to talk to the medics. "Uh, just a heads up — a few miles back, bib number 253 is projectile vomiting all over the trail." Yikes. Glad I'm not him. A few medics headed up to go find him.

This was a nice reset. I sat for a few minutes, wiped my feet off with wet wipes, and got into clean socks. I got my 3 blisters taped nicely and it did actually make a decent difference. Maybe 8 more minutes than I wanted to be sitting there, but alas.

Feet done. Bottles filled. Some ice in my bandana. Quick bathroom stop. Let's get out of here. A quick stop for more pink lemonade right outside the aid station, and back on the trail.

Pretty quickly out of Winfield I came up on the two medics walking with the runner who had been throwing up, and caught a bit of their conversation.

"How do I get back from here?"

"Oh, there's a shuttle you'll be on that takes you to Twin Lakes."

"What happens if I throw up in the shuttle?"

Quote of the day.

The traverse from Winfield back to the start of the climb was about as much fun as it had been on the way out. But at least things were inbound now. I was finally inbound.

After traversing over for — again — longer than I had wanted to, we finally took the left turn and started climbing.

The start of this climb is like nothing I've ever done before. So steep. Just straight up with no breaks. I felt like I was barely moving. I was barely moving. This stretch is anywhere between 20-28%, with one 0.1 mile chunk in there at 28.7%. Crazy.

I joined up with Nobuki, a New Jersey native currently living in Leadville. He was following me up and we chatted for a bit, but I realized pretty quickly that he was a lot more chatty than I was. My HR was going up and I still wasn't climbing any faster. Sheesh. Pretty quickly he went off into the distance in front of me. I guess living at 10,000 feet makes a big difference.

I kept climbing through the trees, just waiting for the treeline to open up in front of me. Watch buzzes. Yikes. This has to be a very slow mile. 33:37. Woah. That's actually not as bad as I thought. Let's keep powering.

Slowly, over the next mile, we kick out right on the slope. The climb gets slightly less steep and switches back left. Finally above the trees. There's the pass. Ways to go. Buzz. 30:38.

I'm still just chugging along slowly, but this wasn't quite as bad as I thought. We can see the summit. Just powering on. This whole climb there's been some rain clouds looming close behind us. Damn, I hope that doesn't come our way. At least I have my rain jacket if it does.

We gotta be getting close now. The people up near the top are getting bigger, and there are fewer of them. Switchback. I've been with this guy for the last mile or more, and we start chatting. Shoutout to Eric (finished in 27:26)! He's got a wife and 3 kids waiting for him at Twin Lakes. He's gotta be more motivated than me. But he just keeps sitting on my back as we're climbing. "Just let me know if you want to pass, I've got one speed here." "Nope, all good, this is perfect."

Switchback, switchback. Oo, I remember this from the way down. We're surely close now. Switchback. There's the saddle, it's literally right there. Switchback. There's the flags. Switchback. Finally, clear air in front.

We get to the top, I give Eric a hug and we take a few pictures.

Summit #2. Time to get back to Leadville.

The way down starts pretty smoothly. It's nice to be running again after ~90 minutes of hiking during the climb. Before I knew it we hit the aid station. Grabbed a quick bite, refilled my front flasks. Let's get out of here.

I'm passing people on this descent without really trying to. I felt... pretty good? Basically no complaints. Dropping down off of 12,500 feet makes a huge difference. We're in the trees, still just powering down. Passing more people walking.

I'm doing some mental math here. My "fast" splits on the spreadsheet had me taking ~8 hours for the Twin Lakes - Winfield - Twin Lakes section. I spent just about 4 on the way out, and about 2.5 from Winfield to the summit. That gives me 1.5 hours to go 5.7 (call it 6) miles. That's 15 minute miles to be on my fast splits. Woah. That's easy. Buzz. 12:59. Just keep jogging where we can. Walk swiftly through the technical spots. No rolled ankles or injuries.

I kept moving through a few people, some of whom had passed me on the uphill and some I hadn't seen all race. Buzz. 12:30. Oh damn. I'm gonna be ahead of schedule. How is that possible? I felt like I was crawling up the back.

Before I knew it I was at the section I had done the week before. 1.75 to the bottom, then 1.8 more on flat to the crew. Easy.

1 mile to the bottom now, I'm rolling with Oliver (we had met much earlier in the day for a few miles). He's moving about as well as I am. We're spaced out a bit but moving down nicely. 0.5 miles to the bottom. We come up on a woman who's walking and he slides by, takes about 2 steps and WHAM. The dude goes flying. Full speed wipeout, rolling off the trail onto the downslope only to get stopped by a tree 10 feet down. Thank god the dirt was super soft here.

I run down and help him up. I've had a few of these falls on trails and they're no fun. They throw off your rhythm, spike your adrenaline, and usually come with some aches, scratches, and a lot of dirt. If nothing else, the dude was covered in dirt.

He seems ok, so we keep rolling. All of a sudden we're at the bottom. That was it? I was expecting to be wrecked by the Hope Pass double. I hadn't spent THAT much time on trails in this block living in NYC and thought I'd pay for it. I had prepared Brooks and Sadie for how bad of shape I'd be in at this point. They'd have to put me back together before heading out with Brooks.

But nope. I felt great. Ready to keep rolling. Let's see if I can make it in before I need a headlamp. 1.8 miles to go. Rolling trail. River crossing. 1.25 miles to go. Woah, there's a lot of drones and camera people starting now.

0.5 miles to go. I can hear the aid station. Let's go.

Rolling into Twin Lakes was just as good inbound as it was out. So many crews waiting for their runners. I find Brooks pretty fast and we jog back over to the Life Time tent. Brooks and Sadie knew I was on one, coming in ahead of my fastest projected time by over 15 minutes. They immediately jumped into action. What do you need. Let's get you changed. Here's some food. Don't forget your jacket. "Woah. Let's slow down. I need a second here to regroup."

I grab some food. Nothing sounds that good. I want a breakfast burrito. Or a burger. Not options unfortunately. I'm up on carbs but down on calories. Maybe some potato chips to start. Let's get something in. Ideally not something sweet.

Shirt change. Half tights change. Move my bib to the new half tights. New socks and shoe change. Some extra tape on my toes that were beat up. Calf sleeve on my left calf. Ouch, that's been hurting on the climbs. Long sleeve shirt. Jacket in the bag. Full tights in the bag. Beanie in the bag. Gloves in the bag. It's not as cold as I thought. Swap gel trash for new gels. Wiped down my face, legs, body a bit with a wet wipe. More food. Running belt on, Brooks has the pack now. Headlamp on. Let's get out of here. Sorry I've left you such a mess Sadie, but you've got more time than me.

I planned for about 15 minutes stopped here and hit it pretty close. After a quick bathroom stop and an aid station run in for a little more food it was about 16 or 17 minutes. I'll take it. Right on pace.

I was pretty excited to be with a pacer. It's such a big morale boost after miles and miles of solo time. It helped too that I was feeling pretty good. Some good food, liquids, a little sit, the lowest elevation of the race, a change of clothes, and no pack. Wow. This is great.

It was dark by the time we left the aid station, so we had our headlamps on at this point. Not far out of the aid station I was explaining to Brooks that we need to follow the pink flags for the trail. This is my responsibility, but having him as a backup to make sure I don't miss any would be nice. See, right there is a good example — there's 2 pink flags that have reflectors on them so headlamps really light them up. Wait a minute... the people in front of us are going a different way than the flags show lol. "Hey guys — I think you missed the turn."

I was dreading the climb out of Twin Lakes. The descent down it was so brutal I was scared about the way up. But somehow it felt like we were barely climbing. We were running flats and even a good bit of the uphill here. And not jogging either, like full on running at a pretty good clip. And running a lot of the time. Mixing in some walking when the terrain got too steep but that was about it.

Brooks and I were chatting. Having a good time. Gels in. Easy. I remember this now, there's the bridge. We made it to the top of the climb. That was it? Wow, that was way harder down than it was up. That doesn't happen much. Now we get a long rolling descent. We were still moving well in here. Passing tons of headlamps on the trail. Clipping along nicely.

I almost don't remember much from this section other than I was feeling pretty good, and before I knew it we were pulling into Half Pipe. I sent Brooks to refill bottles, I grabbed a few gels from my drop bag, and after a relatively quick stop we were out.

About 100 meters out of Half Pipe, jogging again, we came across Eli Wehbe. From a distance I could tell he didn't look great, and sure enough, as we got closer he was doubled over on the side of the trail puking up just about everything he had. Yikes. We were close enough to the aid station and he had his pacer with him, so I didn't say anything and figured they'd be ok.

This section got harder. Running wasn't coming quite as easily anymore. The miles weren't coming as easily. But we were still pushing. 12, 13 minute miles. I'll take that for being 70+ miles in.

We leveled off, took a left, and started the stretch into Pipeline. Still moving well. A group of 5 guys up ahead. Let's get them. The Jaws theme started playing in my head as we put in a surge and ran clean by them. Nice.

Music, cowbells, lights. Pipeline. "Let's run the whole Pipeline stretch," I said. Ouch. I didn't think it was going to be so long. There are 2 people dressed like butterflies with rainbow lights on, dancing ahead of us. Am I hallucinating? Nope, Brooks is looking at this too. Ultras get weird at night.

Pipeline is fun. It's nice to see a lot of crews again after a big stretch in the backcountry. People are cheering. They change the music and put on the Rocky song as I'm running up. Damn. That's sick.

I guess not that many people had been running straight through this section in a while? At least that's what I told myself. We picked the pace up a little.

Out of Pipeline we turn right, a long stretch of double track trail down to the road. Gradual downhills were the best thing going for me at this point — maybe in general — and we flew on this part, running most of it again. Another mile down. Left onto the road.

Ugh. I remember this stretch. The road running begins. There's going to be a lot of road between here and the finish.

Jog for 120 seconds. Woof. Walk for a bit. I should walk faster. Pick up the tempo. Ok, I'm recovered enough, let's go again. Jog for 150 seconds. Ouch. Power hike. Sip of water. Where is this aid station. Jog for 95 seconds. Walk. I swear the left turn should be here. Jog for 130 seconds. Walk. Man, I'm pushing. Sub 25 is going to be close. Jog for 110 seconds.

A lot of that. After about 2 miles on the road we finally turned off onto the grassy section into Outward Bound.

I wanted a quick stop here. We were on pace for sub 25, but barely. I didn't need much. Just a water refill and a gel and let's go.

Into Outward Bound. Wow, this is dead compared to this morning. There's no one here. There's Sadie. Water swap. A gel. I'm good to go. 90 seconds in and out. Back on the road.

We jogged out of Outward Bound. An uphill section now for a bit, then the descent. 5-6 miles to the Dam, mostly on roads. Let's go.

I pass a guy I'd seen a few times earlier in the day with a sign on his back: "Wish me happy birthday after midnight, I'm turning 50!" I check my watch. 12:06. "Happy birthday brother. Go get that belt buckle!"

We reach the top of the hill and start down the back side of the road. Let's run a bit. We come up on a basketball hoop where they're getting runners to shoot. I've got no interest. We run right by it.

We're with a group of maybe 8 runners and their pacers spread over 100 meters or so, and we're all leapfrogging each other. I'm running better than a lot of them but I can't sustain it. When I stop to walk, they come chugging back by. Go your own pace. Running slower isn't any easier for me, so I might as well keep doing this.

Leapfrog. Leapfrog. Finally the left turn next to the golf course. Our group of 8 had sorted itself out by then. There were 2 runners in front of me — the 2 who were mostly running — and I was ahead of the rest by a bit, sitting in the gap between.

Brooks is really pushing me. I think he wants me to get sub 25 more than I do. I just want this to be over.

I do some quick math. ~18 miles to go. That's like 4.5 hours best case scenario given some of the climbs left in the last section. Ouch. Let's keep moving.

Running more than walking turns into walking more than running. I'm going as fast as I can. I feel like I'm pretty close to my limit aerobically — which is a funny thing to say when you're doing 14 minute miles. "I've got a lot of race left here," I tell Brooks. Wow, he's pushing me.

Left onto the dirt road. Gradual uphill. Ugh. Running what I can. Walking mostly. Right turn. Steep, steep climb. I did this one in race recon and knew it was short. But ouch.

Finally we come over the top. There's the aid station, which marks the end of Brooks's section. I guess we should jog it in.

We reach the Dam. I'm doubled over on my poles. There's Sadie. I give Brooks a hug. What a legend.

Brooks hands off the pack. I haven't been drinking much so we don't really need to refill water or anything. I guess let's get moving. I should take a gel. Still have hours to go.

16 miles to the end is brutal. I talked about this in my Canyons 100k recap — at Canyons, the last 16 miles is 8, then 4, then 4, with 2 aid stations in between. That sounded so much better than 16. Well, here I've gotten exactly what I dreaded. 16 straight to the end. It's only fitting.

Some quick mental math. We got to the Dam at 1:15 am. A few minutes behind schedule. Sub 25 isn't impossible, but it's pretty close to that now. 16 miles to go and 3 hours 45 minutes. At 4 hours it would be 15 minute miles, so now we need 14 minute miles. I'm not sure I could do that on flat trails right now, and we've got 2 climbs in here too. Damn. I'm not going to make it.

Who cares. I'm on a day. Let's just run our best in.

I did the first mile out of the Dam the week before and it's relatively chill on the road. I knew there was a climb somewhere in here but didn't scout it out. (That was a mistake.) Sadie and I jog the downhill a bit, then it gradually kicks up.

We start hiking up. There are a few people around, but not many. Maybe 1-2 runners ahead of us and the same number behind. We're moving uphill on this winding road. I'm power hiking the best I can. This shouldn't be that long before we turn off right.

I'm feeling a bit out of it. I'm not sure in what way though. It's almost like a dizziness. Loopy. Just stay focused. Do I need caffeine? Or carbs? Or calories? Or water? Probably all of the above.

We keep hiking.

Man, this road isn't ending. 14 minute mile. 15 minute mile. We've been going for what feels like forever. 15 minute mile. This is steep. This is going on FOREVER. Surely this has to end soon. Where is this right turn.

The road gets steeper. 17 minute mile. I don't want to talk anymore. I don't even want Sadie to talk anymore. Around every bend I think we must be at that right turn, but it just doesn't come. I keep looking up the road and my headlamp lights up the trail markers way off in the distance. How is it that far still. An 18 minute mile. The road is steep now.

Finally we hit the turn. Instead of a square pink flag reflector, there's an arrow pointing right. Thank GOD. We take the right and it gets impossibly even steeper, but it's trail now. Surely it must end soon. We climb up a third of a mile. Finally, a right turn off the summit.

The downhill is a nice respite, but it doesn't feel much better on the legs. At least I can run some of this. We're with more people again, 5-6 runners and their pacers. Leapfrog. Leapfrog.

I try to roll the downs the best I can. The steep parts are hard to run but we try. Other people are moving fast. I try to move fast. Ouch. Time to walk a bit. The descent lasts 2.5 miles or so. Soon we're at the bottom.

We enter into this valley. It's cold and misty. Really misty. So misty it's hard to see. The wind blows the thick mist around, and my headlamp is lighting up the mist more than the trail. When I breathe, my breath condenses, creating fog in front of me in addition to the mist. I can barely see the trail. Trying to look around, I can't see more than 5 meters in any direction. Spooky.

I get dizzy again. This is just the mist messing with my head. Breathe. That makes it worse. Can I breathe off to the side? Let's just keep moving.

This section got weird. The group of 6-8 people who were around us slowly disappeared. We couldn't see much of the trail in front of us, and now we couldn't see any headlamps in either direction either. Slightly spooky. In the end, we didn't see any other runners for the rest of the race (I ended up finishing with no one 15 minutes in front or behind me. Pretty wild.)

Mile 93. 14:47. That wasn't that easy of a mile, but that's not bad. Mile 94. 15:16. That mile was a grind. Running as much and as hard as I could. Still over 15 minutes. "That's a LOT of work for a 15 minute mile," I say. Sadie laughs.

Run 60 seconds. Stop and walk. I'm breathing like I just ran an all out 5k. Try to recover while power hiking. Run another 60 seconds. My earlier stretches of running a few minutes are now down to a few seconds. I try not to look at my watch but I glimpse anyway. That running stretch was 0.05 miles. Ouch. This is a grind.

Mile 95. 15:21. At least these miles are consistent. 15 minutes on the flat is crazy though. The effort feels like 6:30 miles. Literally.

Getting close now. Not getting any easier. We finally leave the area around the lake, take a left and a quick right, and we're back in Leadville. We traverse across on a road. Still jogging where I can. Every mile, when I hit 0.85 or so, I try to run it in the rest of the way. Sometimes I can't make it and break it into 2 chunks. Mile 96. 15:18.

We pass the street our Airbnb is on. There's a cop there stopping traffic. It's 4:30 am. Not much for him to do. He says nice work. Onto a dirt road, still traversing. Moving where I can. Where is this left arrow. I see the arrow ahead. Finally. We get to it and it turns out I made it up. Still moving straight. Mile 97. 15:38.

Finally the left turn onto the Boulevard. 3.7 miles to go. The Boulevard is steep at the start and pretty rocky. Not great. About 0.4 miles later it turns into a smooth dirt road.

This dirt road is frustrating. I know I could run it. But I can't run it right now. 0.05 mile sections are all I have. I try for 0.1 running. Ouch. Didn't make it. I'm basically grunting every time I stop running now. The effort is so high. Mile 98. 18:09.

Ken Chlouber has a quote that's become famous in the ultrarunning scene:

"Make friends with pain and you'll never be alone."

Well, I'm definitely not alone.

We're power hiking the best we can but it's steep. Everything looks the same. We keep seeing the same sign over and over again, something about using the bathrooms and keeping Leadville trails clean. Why do they have 50 of these damn signs. Mile 99. 17:09.

We're still climbing. It's gotta be super close now. Finally, a timing station. That's a good sign. The road kicks up steeper but it ends now. Left turn. We're in the parking lot where I started this morning. Right turn. Left turn onto the road, and a right turn onto 6th St.

Finally onto 6th St. 1 mile to go.

The road is steep. Really steep. We hike up. There's no one out. It's dark and 5:20 in the morning. Eerily quiet. 0.4 miles later we crest the hill, finally. My watch buzzes. Mile 100. 18:10.

Mile 100.

Over the top of the hill. We can see the finish. 0.6 miles to go. I start a slow jog. I want to jog it in but I haven't run more than 0.15 miles straight in hours. At least this is downhill. I jog. It feels ok, so I keep jogging.

We get to the bottom of the hill. Might as well keep going. There's a family out with their dogs on the right. I jog over and give them a pet. A little doggo power up.

The road kicks up. Wow, that finish line is still far away. Still jogging. Finally we cross the last road open to cars. I'm still running up. It's actually getting closer now. I hear my name on the speaker. There's the red carpet. A lean at the line.

I finished.

I just finished the Leadville 100.

After the Finish

"That was hard." I get some laughs. Yea. That was hard.

I get my medal, and they hand me a box. The box. My belt buckle. I love belt buckles.

Last 100 we didn't get any pictures of the whole crew at the finish line. Wasn't making that mistake this time.

Like last time, crew makes a huge difference. Having someone to support, prep, and be ready for anything you may need takes a lot of mental stress away, in addition to just being faster. And pacers are no different. Who doesn't want a buddy to run with during the night? Couldn't have done it without Brooks and Sadie. Definitely not as fast and enjoyably at least.

We get some hot chocolate. A blanket. Damn. This was awesome. I don't even feel that bad. That was hard work, but I can walk, and stand, and I'm not entirely destroyed. Only mostly.

We hang out at the finish line for a few minutes, but there's not much going on. It's early enough that not too many people are out, and there was no one in front of me for 15 minutes — or, as it turned out, behind me for 15 minutes either. A nice little window to myself.

We head back to the car. I'm shivering now. I'm spilling hot chocolate on myself because I'm shivering so much. Where is this damn car. Brooks puts the heat on full blast. That's nice. I update my Strava to have the title. A necessity.

We drive back down 10 minutes to the Airbnb. I can barely walk up the stairs. This is the best feeling ever.

I go collapse in the shower. Warm water helps stop the shivering. My feet are a mess. I still have them taped up and the blisters are so big they're coming out around the tape. Ouch.

Brooks leaves very shortly after. He'd moved his flight up and left pretty quickly to drive back to Denver and make his flight so he can work tomorrow morning. Dude's insane.

I need a nap, but I'm so hungry too. I should eat something. I remember I had a frozen pizza unused from Thursday. Sadie makes it for me as I lay in bed. Fuck yea.

We sleep for 2.5 hours. That was much needed. I wake up feeling so hungry. We head into town to the Golden Burro for breakfast. There are tons of people wearing race shirts (me included). They're all walking a bit funny (me included).

Breakfast, a beer, and back to sleep. Another 2 hour nap. Nice.

Damn, I'm still hungry. We get pizza from High Mountain Pies. My favorite. Even after all that I'm surely still so far behind on calories.

It's 7pm. Think that's good enough. Bedtime.

We go to sleep when it's light out, and wake up when it's still light out. Woah, was that a quick nap? I check the time. 6:30 am. Nice. Needed that one.

I check in with my body. My legs are sore, but not horrible. I generally feel ok. My feet are blistered and raw — those hurt. But overall, I'll take it. Time to pack up and head back to NYC.

I love Leadville. I'm coming back. I need that sub 25, and I need more of the mountains. Somehow I feel at home here, at peace. It's so pretty. So calm. So remote.

I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I know it won't be long.

"The mountains are calling, and I must go." — John Muir

Leadville 100 2026. 25:35:06.

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Some thoughts from after the race: Afterthoughts.

A video of me, Brooks and Sadie throughout the race: Video.