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 was 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 one 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, 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 running 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 Leadville 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.

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.

The week before 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.

The last 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.

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 then.

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, but 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.

When we crossed the bridge this 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.

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 all things.

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 MacIntyre 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. 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. 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. Woah — 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 on the downs 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.

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 some 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. All of a sudden we were at 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.