Silver Rush 50 Report

The race experience was amazing. It's been three months since the Silver Rush 50 (July 8, 2018), but I remember getting up early, gathering my gear, getting some food down, sneaking out of the campsite, parking at the race start, and waiting in nervous anticipation for the gun. At the start of races, everyone else looks so fit and fast to me. I always figure I'm the slowest person there. That sense was in full force at the start of this race. I knew a number of folks there were attempting to qualify for the 100-mile Leadville race in August and others were merely using this as a training run for it. It's humbling to consider that.

We started with that little steep climb up the ski slope or whatever it is. I turned and enjoyed a moment of the pinkening mountaintops in the distance and the hundreds of buzzing runners all around me. Then it was time for business.

The fit folk.

The pinkening during the first couple miles out of Leadville.

I kept it really comfortable for the first while so that I wouldn't blow up. I think it worked. We slowly began to string out, but we were all clumpy for a while as we headed up the "straightaway" to the hairpin turn that would mark our first descent, some 10 miles into the race. It was a gorgeous morning and I took a couple photos as we ran. I felt good and was breathing fine.

The straightaway. We're stringing out by now.

Gorgeous summer morning.

More meadowy than I expected.

So pretty. 

Long shadows.

It would've been easy to let loose on that descent, but I tried to keep it reigned in. I probably did too well and could've gone faster, but so it goes in retrospect. It was fun to get to that mile-14 aid station. There were quite a few cars and people there cheering, so it was invigorating. We then wended our way through some forested areas and up some inclines until we broke out into what felt like the top of the mountains. Then we began descending again—some of it was quite steep—and entered into a lovely meadowy area where eventually the halfway point and midway aid station was. I thought it would be on the way there that I'd spot the leaders coming at me, but I forgot that the route takes us a slightly different way for a while than how we arrived, so I missed all the speedsters at the front. Oh well.

A mountain "mine."

This is what we were dropping into as we neared the last couple miles before the midway aid station.

I sat and changed shoes and packs at aid. Still felt pretty good and was enjoying myself. Having another large number of volunteers, crew, and cheering spectators was fun. After a couple miles we began climbing again, and I think that's where I started to feel more fatigued. I remember a long descent when I was gradually catching someone ahead of me, but then we hit another little climb and I walked while they jogged. I think it was during that stretch, or a little before, when I first began to sense a bit of cramping in my left quad. Then we reached the "14-mile" aid station and began the five-mile climb to that hairpin turn that would take us into town. The cramping threat had worsened and I had to walk that climb. I got passed by a few people, but I didn't get too far behind a couple of them because my walk was pretty strong and steady. I felt good about that at least, but I would've liked to have jogged.

During the "alternate" return route, we hit this bit of single track that made this runner a little giddy.

As we neared the hairpin, the dark clouds that had begun gathering finally broke loose and the drizzle hit. Quickly that became quite a downpour, and so I found myself descending with Natalie (I learned her name after the race from the results) for about three miles in the pouring rain. The trail was slick and there were puddles to jump. For a while there was even some hail, and it was windy, too. By the hairpin, I'd finished my book and had put on my jams, but I could hardly hear them and they weren't very motivating by that point anyway. It was exhilarating to run in that weather, but I had also run farther than ever before and was feeling it. Fortunately, my cramping threats were controlled while running flat or on a decline, so that wasn't a big issue. But I didn't have an appetite, nor the motivation to sip water from underneath my tightly zippered rain jacket. I was letting myself get pretty depleted.

The darkening clouds and the long climb to the hairpin.

Eventually we got to the last aid station, from where I thought it was only seven miles back to the finish. It was a long seven miles. Mentally grueling for me. I ate and drank almost nothing, relying just on my will to finish to get me to the end. It worked, but maybe I would've finished a couple minutes faster and felt better had I been consuming things better those last 10 miles. Anyway, I was able to keep my slog rather steady in spite of things and did wrap up those last—what turned out to be—eight miles all right. The rain had slackened by that time and I was able to enjoy the euphoria of 50.07 miles completed under a gray sky. The hug given to me by the woman at the finish—one of the race directors or something—was welcome in that moment. It's strange, to understand that you're all messed up inside, your chemicals and juices and brainwaves all depleted and spastic, such that every little thing results in becoming emotional, but to still simply appreciate it all. I don't like my feelings being manipulated like that, but I also have to smile and enjoy it or I'd just weep. So I did.

Except that I was utterly exhausted. My legs really hurt and I wanted to lie down and sleep. But I was alone, surrounded by strangers, and dared not lie down lest I never get up again. I had to drive myself back to the campground, after all. I staggered about for a while, attempting to "stretch" a bit. I picked up my drop bag. I congratulated Natalie, who had passed me up that last climb, then run with me to the aid station, then pulled out of there ahead, then fallen behind when she wasn't sure what way to take until I'd run up. For that last hour, I was constantly expecting her to catch and pass me, but she never did for some reason. I imagine she could have, but I won't deny hoping I would stay ahead of her. It was a good motivator to be able to have someone to "beat."

I got myself to the car, somehow unwrapped myself from my jacket, pack, and other accouterments, and managed to drive myself to the campsite. Then I lay in my tent. I called a Mexican restaurant to ask about ordering takeout, but they didn't do phone orders. I couldn't picture myself limping into a place full of smiling groups of runners cheering beers, so I nibbled at some snacks I had in the tent and continued to lie there. I felt, and it was, pretty pathetic, but it was all I could muster. Eventually I think I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom, and then slept.

The next morning I felt lovely. Considering, of course. But I did. I was stoked to have experienced that race, stoked to not feel any injuries, stoked to be hungry again, stoked to be in the mountains. I could've stayed much, much longer, but it was time to head home. The plan was to drive about halfway again, camp on some BLM land, then make it home and possibly work the next afternoon. But I ended up just driving all the way home that day. During the drive I decided I didn't want to stop and unpack things and then have to pack them all again. So I just drove. Passing through the mountains of Colorado was gorgeous. The winding roads, the mountains and trees and meadows, the small towns. Then the pseudo-desert of Utah, and the rain and sunset in Nevada, and the nighttime driving after Las Vegas.

It was a grand adventure for me, that whole long weekend. The race went off marvelously and spoiled me, I'm sure. I would love to do it again, especially if I could do it with friends. But I couldn't have asked for a better experience. It was absolutely wonderful.

The Numbers
50 miles
9:18:43 (11:11/mi)
43rd overall (out of about 400 finishers)
38th male
25th age group (30–39)
(Athlinks results)

Strava post

50 Miles

So... it's been a bit. I guess three-plus years may warrant an update here. Truth be told, I'd meant to revamp my blog on a new personal website, but I haven't made that happen yet. For now, I wanted to document my 50-mile race journey, so here's at least one post on the topic.

It started when I received an email from Trail Runner Magazine on May 9 with a 10 percent discount for the Silver Rush 50. Typically, 50-mile races are on Saturday, so I looked up the date without much hope. (I don't race on Sabbath.) Lo and behold, it was a Sunday race. (I searched to see if there were other potential Sunday races nearer and in my search there were only 13 Sunday 50-milers in the country and this was the closest besides a sold-out one in Oregon.) I immediately became excited and texted a couple running buddies just to plant the seed of possibility at a 50-mile race for more than just myself.* In the end, it took me a few weeks to finally register and I'm here by myself. But I'm thrilled.

Leadville, CO

The race is in Leadville, Colorado, an old mining town proud of its heritage and its height. It sits at 10,000' feet (more, but I don't recall the exact number and won't look it up—maybe 10,152'?). Everything is "the highest" this or that in the country. That's what I was told at the little SDA church I visited this morning. "We're the highest SDA church in America." Plus, I observed, the highest church in town—of which there are several—since it sits at the top of the town. In the ultrarunning community, Leadville is famous for the Leadville 100 run, one of the toughest in the country because of the altitude. My race, the Silver Rush 50, is a mere stepping point (qualifier) and training run for many who will be racing the full 100 in August. I suppose it's like taking your master's at an institution where the PhDs are the top dogs. I am the little guy in Leadville, but that's all right with me.

As soon as I received that email in May I began to think about long runs and mountain runs. I'd been gradually getting my running back after somewhat a slump the first few months of the year. This was a shot of adrenaline. One of my year's goals was to run 20 20-mile runs in the year and up to that point I'd run zero. I think in two weeks I started a string of 20-mile runs every weekend that got me up to about nine or so. Two in one weekend, if I recall correctly. (A weekend for me is Friday to Sunday.) My longest training run was up in the Horseshoe Meadow/Cottonwood Lakes area three weeks ago. It was all above 10,000' like the Silver Rush race and I traveled 35 miles. It took me nearly 9 hours. I blame crazy wind at the beginning, a couple steep climbs, and no aid stations. But I'm hoping I can greatly improve on that pace tomorrow.

The long and lonely road. I forgot where. But I did pass through a lot of desert.

View from my Utah run.

Netflix and chill, the kosher version. Utah campground with that Karl Metzler AT documentary on the tablet.

I trained fairly well, putting in a 75-mile week and about three 60-plus-mile weeks, along with a couple 50s. No serious injuries and I got to the mountains almost every weekend. I also enjoyed planning my trip. I decided to leave on July 4, which turned out to be great since there ended up not being any traffic. I camped overnight in southwest Utah at about 8,500' to jumpstart the blood's oxygen stuff. Did a pleasant little run there, slept okay, then took off in the morning for the high-altitude hours through to Leadville. I'm camping at Sugar Loafin' Campground, a family friendly place where I seem to be the lone tent in the RV section. I requested electric hookup. The tent section is way cooler, but I've appreciated charging my phone at night, charging my computer, and cooking with my electric wok (a hand-me-down from my great aunt Doris). I'm eating better here than I do in Loma Linda.

I got here on a Thursday evening and promptly went for a little wheezing jog. As I've said, 10,000' is no joke. After the run I realized I'd traveled a segment that is part of the Leadville 100, which means dozens of famous ultrarunners have also run that little section. It made me feel good. Friday I got groceries, visited this library (I love local libraries—that's another goal of mine and potential blogging project, to visit all kinds of small libraries across the country), bought a book at the local bookstore, and picked up my race packet. I went on a hike to Timberline lake in the afternoon and reveled in the storm clouds, thunder, and wildflowers. Today I went to church and now I'm here at the library again. Tomorrow I race.

I basically saw Anthony here at the library.

Timberline Lake with a soft drizzle, thunderclouds overhead, and the laughter of a child nearby camping with her parents.

It's been a whirlwind and I've really enjoyed it. I've appreciated the chilly nights cozied up in my tent; the three hours a day it takes to prepare, eat, and clean up my meals; the beautiful drive to the Timberline trailhead, with the flowers on the side of the road and the view over Turquoise Lake; the laughing neighbor kids and their pot-smoking dads; the fit and filthy mountain bikers and ultrarunners stacking the town for the weekend (there's a mountain bike race being wrapped up as I type); the drizzle each afternoon (right now, too!); smell of campfire and the campground showers; the audiobook I finished yesterday ("Ember in the Ashes") and the one I'm on today and tomorrow ("Traitor's Blade")—both are good! which is not overly common; grooving to Eryn Martin to town and back. It's just been lovely. I hope for more of it.

But first, I get to run 50 miles tomorrow. It will be painful, but for the first 15 miles it will be heaps fun, and once I'm done it will have seemed heaps fun. I will listen to hours and hours of my audiobook and then at some point it will be time to turn on my Silver Rush playlist and jam to the feeling of my sore quads and dehydrated kidneys. I will dream of running 100 miles next. Maybe attempting to get in to one of the big 100-milers (Western States, Leadville, Hardrock, etc.).

It's all part of the journey and I can't say I'd have it any other way.

A little bit of rainbow yesterday evening at Sugar Loafin'. My campsite is out of the frame to the left. 

*It took me until today to realize that Albert Handal had run this race last year and I'd known about it. So quickly I forget about which races happen when and where and by whom. 

PS: Race-day results should be available here at Athlinks. Maybe post-race results will also be there for the record?