Ouray 100 Mile Endurance Run: An Artistic Twist
Ouray 100 Mile, 1st place in 29:19:13 with new CR!
I think anyone who races has a dream of winning - crossing the line before anyone else, before anyone as old as you, before time runs out, before the cones are moved, before your body gives way. I understand winning can be both literal and figurative, personal and public, and I recognize it is a luxury and a privilege to choose to compete. I have had the opportunity to care so deeply for this sport and surround myself with loving friends and family who support me. How lucky am I? Yes, to win has been a dream of mine, and I won in many ways by crossing that finish line.
Just after crossing the finish line, two cones, totally spent. Ultras are the best!
A shining light in this story is my small world of caring, compassionate, loyal people who support me, yes running through big mountains on this day but also when I’ve felt down, when the alarm goes off much too early, or life feels heavy. My wife Hailey is twenty four weeks pregnant, and more than anyone has celebrated and endured my love for big mountain adventures, to say she inspires me, awake and on her feet, crewing me well before and beyond the finish line, is an understatement. She has, perhaps, spent more quality time with my dad than I the last several years, the two of them navigating every logistical nightmare I could manage to provide as runner to crew. My dad still hasn’t missed one of my hundred mile races, and every time he hugs me leaving an aid station, I remember how much a boy, even when grown, benefits from having his dad. I will never take this for granted, and can only aspire to be this loving and present for my son as I prepare to be a dad in a few months. I don’t know a better hype woman than my aunt Cathy, who always makes me feel like I’m glowing, even in the dark of night, as far as possible from her Atlanta pillow top mattress. Picking up Jeff in the dark to run some steep hills was, perhaps for him, a bit too familiar, but I am forever grateful for his willingness to light a torch and lead me through tough moments and terrain. He offered a weary baton to Megan who willed my feet to move against gravity, believing the best of me into fruition as only someone trusted with full control can do. I relinquished all, trusted fully and we fell in step together. My finish line was cloaked in their love, all them, a moment worthy of collapse and a big win.
The whole crew! My aunt Cathy, Megan, my Dad, (Me), Jeff, my wife Hailey.
Ouray 100 Mile Endurance Run Stats: 102.1 Miles, 41,862 ft gain, 83,724 ft change, 13,365 high, 7,640 low, 10,239 avg
I love running for that togetherness, the way even competition folds into camaraderie. I found myself most excited passing fellow runners on out-and-backs and simply loved the opportunity to see the whole field on the Ironton loops. Since I ran alone almost the entire race, these connections, grounded in maximum effort, were interactions of pure joy and encouragement. Seeing Tim and Vernon and Luke and Sarah were always met with a smile and the upmost desire to pull them forward, to give their best, and ultimately allowing such expectations for myself. I shared high fives and even hugs with runners going at all speeds, all over the course. I was honestly, just as happy for them as I was focused on moving with efficiency. I was given an extra obstacle, a gift and a challenge, a part of the narrative that may feel like a smudge on my small but great, for me, work of art. Perhaps like all artwork, the smudge will be what makes it valuable well beyond its completion.
Big smiles for big miles!
“We want you to keep going. We want to see what you can do. If you want to win, just run faster.” I still have these words echoing in my mind in reference to part of the Richmond pass climb. Throughout the outbound ascent, Gaia showed my location directly on the route, which I’d downloaded off the race website the night before the start. I must have checked that map ten times on the ascent, and even pulled up the SPOT tracker showing the maps were the same. I gave a nice exhale when I saw flags just before dropping over the pass, but when running for hours in the mountains, alone, your mind has a way of wondering as you’re wandering. My opener to the gentleman at the Ironton aid station was, “you and I might have to have a difficult conversation.” I voiced I didn’t see any flags on the ascent up the Richmond pass jeep road. We reviewed my Gaia map, revealing what I learned was a retired route, but remained on the GPX file. The new section was emailed in a separate file the night before the race start but wasn’t part of the full course download from the website. The race directors gave me reassurance: the route was longer (with honestly heinous footing) and was obviously not a course cut . Their consensus was to add a 10 minute time penalty to acknowledge the shared components of the mistake without being putative. I gave a head nod and accepted the task at hand. I recognize not everyone will see this as fair. I understand a smudge can feel so glaring to some, but I celebrated every step before and after this moment, and it was a terrible joy and pleasure to be totally spent, creating an artist’s rendition of mountain running with everything I had in me.